Star Wars

New Jedi Order

The Final Prophecy

by Greg Keyes

As the bestselling New Jedi Order series

approaches its epic climax,  the secrets

of the Yuuzhan Vong -  who  they  are,

where  they  came  from,  what terrible

forces drive them - are at last exposed.

But will this knowledge  aid the Jedi...

or doom them?

PROLOGUE

Three kilometers beneath the surface of Yuuzhan'tar-the world once  known

as Coruscant-the sound of chanting drifted up a shaft nearly as wide as it was

deep, the melan-choly strains yearning toward the few distant stars that could

be seen from the bottom. In the pale blue light of lumen reeds, the  faces  of

the chanters appeared ravaged, their bodies misshapen.

These were the Shamed Ones of the Yuuzhan Vong, and they chanted to their

Prophet.

Nom Anor felt his bile rise at the sight. Even after all this time as the

"Prophet," it was difficult to shake the long years of contempt  he  had  held

for them.

But they were his hope, now. They were his army. Once, not long  ago,  he

had dared to dream that with them behind him  he  could  pull  Shimrra-Supreme

Overlord of the Yuu-zhan Vong-from his polyp throne, cast him into  the  pits,

and assume his place.

But there had been setbacks. His eyes and ears  within  Shimrra's  palace

had been uncovered and killed. More of his  followers  were  discovered  every

day, and fewer answered the call.

Their faith was wavering, and it was time to give it back to them.

"Hear me!" he called, his voice soaring above the Prayer  of  Redemption.

"Hear the voice of prophecy!"

1

The chanting subsided, and an eager silence descended.

"I have fasted," he said. "I have  meditated.  Last  night  I  sat  here,

beneath the stars, waiting for I knew not what. And in the  darkest  hours,  a

great light fell about me, a cleansing  light,  the  light  of  redemption.  I

looked up and there, where the stars gaze down upon us, was an orb-a world,  a

planet in the skies above us. Its  beauty  made  me  tremble,  and  its  power

pressed down on me. I felt love and terror at once. And  then  those  emotions

subsided, and I felt-belonging. I knew that the planet itself was alive,  wel-

coming me. It is the planet of the source,  the  planet  of  the  Jeedai,their

secret temple and fount of their  knowledge  and  wisdom-and  I  saw  us,  the

Shamed, walking with the Jeedai upon its surface, one with them, one with  the

planet."

He dropped his tone from singsong to a near growl.

"And in the distance, I heard Shimrra's wail of  despair,  for  he  knows

this planet-this living planet-is our salvation and his doom. And he knows  it

will come for him, one day, because it will come for us."

He lowered his hands, and for a moment the  silence  pre-vailed.  Then  a

great roar went up, keen and joyful, and Nom Anor heard what he most wanted to

hear-the sound of hope, the cry of the  zealot-his  name  on  the  lips  of  a

multitude. What matter  that  he  had  put  the  story  together  from  a  few

conversations and rumors he had collected from  Shimrra's  palace  before  his

informant died? There was a planet, rumored to be alive in some  unusual  way.

Shimrra was terrified of it, and had had the commander who brought the news of

it slaughtered out of hand, along with all his crew.

His story would give his people hope. It would encourage them  to  fight.

And when they were captured, and told the  prophecy  to  their  punishers,  it

would get back to Shimrra, and bring his fear back home.

Better, Nom Anor had heard from old sources in the Galactic Alliance that

the Jedi had mounted a search for just such a planet. What they wanted with it

he did not know, but it seemed the planet had repelled at least  one  Yuu-zhan

Vong battle group, so perhaps its people had potent weapons.

In any event, rumor would build on rumor, reinforcing the veracity of his

vision, strengthening the resolve of  his  followers,  knitting  their  single

strands into ropes and the ropes into cables until they were strong enough  to

knot around Shimrra's neck and strangle him.

Strength swept through him as the sound of his adopted name built  toward

the heavens. He looked out over them, and this time was much less offended  by

their faces.

PART ONE

VISION

ONE

She was being followed.

She paused and wiped a damp  wisp  of  yellow  hair  from  her  forehead,

touching in passing the scars that marked her as a member of Domain Kwaad. Her

green eyes scanned  through  the  many-legged  gnarltrees,  but  her  stalkers

weren't yet showing themselves to the usual  senses.  They  were  waiting  for

something-reinforcements, probably.

She hissed a mild shaper's curse under her breath and started off  again,

picking her way over moldering logs, through sluggish mists and  dense  brakes

of hissing cane.

The air was a wet fever, and the chirps and trills  and  bub-bling  gulps

from canopy and marsh were oddly comforting.

She kept her pace the same-there was no reason to let them know  she  was

on to them, not yet. She did alter her path subtly-no point in  going  to  the

cave until this was dealt with.

Or I could lead them there,she mused,attack them  while  they  deal  with

their inner demons...

No.

That seemed somehow like sacrilege. Yoda had come  here.  Luke  Skywalker

had, too, and so had Anakin. Now it was her turn. Tahiri's turn.

Anakin's parents hadn't very much liked the idea of her coming to Dagobah

alone, but she'd managed to convince them of the necessity. She believed  that

the human and Yuu-zhan Vong personalities that had once shared  her  body  had

become one seamless entity. It felt that way, felt right. But Anakin had  seen

a vision of her, a melding of Jedi and Yuu-zhan Vong, and  it  hadn't  been  a

pretty vision. She'd thought at first,  after  the  joining  that  had  nearly

driven her mad, that she had avoided that outcome. But before  she  moved  on,

before she put those she loved at risk, she had to con-sider  the  possibility

that the fusion of Tahiri Veila with Riina of Domain Kwaad was a step  in  the

fulfillment of that vision.

Anakin, after all, had known her better than anyone. And Anakin had  been

very strong.

If the creature he had seen was lurking in her, the time to face  it  was

now, not later.

So she'd come here, to Dagobah, where the Force was so strong  it  almost

seemed to sing aloud. The cycle of life and death and new birth was all around

here, none of it twisted by Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology, none of it poisoned by

the machines, greed, and exploitation all too native  to  this  galaxy.  She'd

come to visit the cave to explore her inner self and see what she  was  really

made of.

But she had also come to Dagobah to meditate on  the  alternatives.  What

Anakin had seen was all of the worst of Yuuzhan Vong and Jedi  traits  bundled

into one being. Avoiding becoming that was  paramount,  but  she  had  a  goal

beyond-to find the balance, to embody the best of her mixed heritage. Not just

for herself, but because the reconciliation of her dual identity had left  her

with one firm belief-that the Yuuzhan Vong and the peoples of the galaxy  they

had invaded could learn a lot from each other, and they could live  in  peace.

She was sure of it. The only question was how to make it happen.

The Yuuzhan Vong would never create  industrial  waste-lands  like  Duro,

Bonadan, or Eriadu. On the other hand, what they did to life-breaking  it  and

twisting it until it suited their needs, wiping it out entirely when it didn't

please-was really no better. It wasn't that they loved  life,  but  that  they

hated machines.

There had to be some sort of common ground, some pivot point  that  could

open the eyes of both sides and end the ongoing terror and destruction of  the

war. The Force was key to that understanding. The Yuuzhan  Vong  were  somehow

blind to it. If they could actually feel the Force around them, if they  could

feel the wrongness of their creations, they might find a better path, one less

bent on destruction. If the Jedi could feel the Yuuzhan  Vong  in  the  Force,

they might find-not better ways to fight them - but paths to conciliation.

She needed more than that, though. It wasn't  enough  to  know  what  was

wrong-she also had to know how to make things right.

Tahiri had no delusions of grandeur. She was no savior,  no  prophet,  no

super-Jedi. She was the result of a Yuuzhan Vong experiment  gone  wrong.  But

she did understand both sides of the problem, and if there was any chance  she

could help Master Skywalker find  the  solution  her  galaxy  so  des-perately

needed-well, she had to take it. It was a role she accepted with humility  and

great caution. Those trying to do good  often  committed  the  most  atrocious

crimes. They were gaining on her, getting clumsier. Soon she would have to  do

something.

They must have followed her to Dagobah. How?

Or maybe they had known where she was going before she  left.  Maybe  she

had been betrayed. But that meant Han and Leia-

No. There was another answer. Paranoid reflexes  were  a  survival  trait

growing up in a creche, but even deeper in-stincts told her that her  friends-

adopted parents, almost-could never do such a thing. Someone had been watching

her, someone she hadn't noticed. Peace Brigade  maybe.  Probably.  They  would

imagine they could curry a lot of favor by turn-ing her over to Shimrra.

She twisted her way through a  maze  of  gnarltrees  and  then  clambered

quickly and silently up their cablelike roots. They had once been legs,  those

roots, as she'd learned when she came here less than a decade and more than  a

lifetime ago. The immature form of the tree was a sort of spider that lost its

mobility in adulthood. She'd been with Anakin, here  to  face  his  trial,  to

discover if having the name of his grandfather would bring him the same fate.

I miss you Anakin, she thought.

More now than ever.

About four meters off the ground, she secreted herself in  a  hollow  and

waited. If she could simply avoid them, she would. At one level her  instincts

cried out for battle, but at a deeper level she knew  that  her  Yuuzhan  Vong

fighting re-flexes had inevitable connections with fury, and she was  here  to

avoid becoming Anakin's vision, not embrace it.

There was a part of her plan that she hadn't told Han and Leia  about-the

part where, if the cave confirmed her worst fears, she would  cripple  her  X-

wing beyond repair and spend the rest of her life on the jungle planet.

Perhaps, like the spiders, she would sink her limbs into  the  swamp  and

become a tree.

She reached out with the Force, to better assess her pursuit.

They weren't there. And she suddenly realized that she hadn't  felt  them

in the Force, but with her Vongsense. It had come so naturally she hadn't even

questioned it. That could only mean her pursuers were Yuuzhan Vong, maybe  six

of them, give or take one or two. Vongsense wasn't as precise as the Force.

She reached for her lightsaber, but didn't unhook it,  and  continued  to

wait.

Soon she actually heard them. Whoever they were,  they  weren't  hunters-

they moved through the jungle clumsily, and though they pitched  their  voices

low enough that she couldn't actually understand what they were  saying,  they

seemed to be gabbling almost constantly. They must be very confident of  their

success.

A dark shadow  glided  soundlessly  through  the  under-growth,  and  she

snapped her gaze up in time to see some-thing very large blot the fragments of

sky not occluded by the distant canopy.

Native life, or a Yuuzhan Vong flier?

Pursing her lips, she waited. Soon the distant muttering became coherent.

As she'd thought, the language was that of her creche.

"Are you certain she came this way?" a raspy voice asked.

"She did. See? The impression in the moss?"

"She isjeedai. Perhaps she left these signs to confuse us."

"Perhaps."

"But you think she is near?"

"Yes."

"And knows we are following her?"

"Yes."

"Then why not simply call out to her?"

And hope I answer the battle challenge? Tahiri thought, grimly.  So  they

did have a tracker with them. Could she slip around them, back to her  X-wing?

Or must she fight them?

Moving very slowly, Tahiri shifted in the direction of  the  voices.  She

could make out several figures through the under-story, but not distinctly.

"At some point we must, I suppose," the tracker said.

"Else she will think we wish her harm."

What? Tahiri frowned, trying to fit that into  her  presuppositions.  She

couldn't.

"Jeedai!" the tracker called. "I think you can hear us. We humbly request

an audience."

No warrior would do that, Tahiri  thought.  No  warrior  would  use  such

honorless trickery. But a shaper... Yes, a shaper or a priest might, a  member

of the deception sect. Still...

She leaned out for a better view, and found herself staring straight into

the yellow eyes of a Yuuzhan Vong.

He was perhaps six meters away. She gasped  at  the  sight  of  him,  and

revulsion jolted through her. His face was like an open wound.

A Shamed One, despised by  the  gods.  He  dared-her  hand  went  to  her

lightsaber.

Then the shadow was back, and  suddenly  something  sleeted  through  the

branches, shredding the leaves and vines around her. She snarled a war cry and

ignited her weapon, swirling it up to send two thud bugs burning  off  through

the jungle.

Above her, through the now open canopy, she saw a Yuu-zhan Vong tsik vai,

an atmospheric flier, huge and ray-shaped, and from it snaked long cables.  To

each cable clung a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. One passed less than two meters  from

her, and she braced for the fight, but he  went  on  past,  oblivious  to  her

presence, striking the jungle floor and uncoiling his amphistaff in  the  same

motion.

A terrible wail went up from her pursuers. She could see  them  now,  all

horribly disfigured, all Shamed Ones. They raised their short clubs and  faced

the warriors.

They didn't have a chance-she saw that immediately.

For an instant, the tracker held her eye, and she thought he  would  give

her away, but instead his expression went grim.

"Run!" he shouted. "We cannot win here!"

Tahiri hesitated only an instant longer, then made a series  of  steplike

leaps to the ground. The first of the Shamed Ones had already fallen when  her

feet touched the spongy soil.

A warrior caught her motion from the corner of his eye and turned to meet

her, snarling a war cry. His face transfig-ured in surprise when she  answered

it in his own language.

He whirled his amphistaff toward her,  a  lateral  strike  aimed  at  her

scapula. She caught the blade and cut toward his knuckles, but he parried with

distance, pulled his weapon free  of  the  bind,  and  lunged  deep  with  the

venomous tip. She caught it in a  high  sweep  and  stepped  in,  cut  to  his

shoulder where the vonduun crab armor shed its fury in  a  shower  of  sparks,

then dodged past, reversing the weapon and plung-ing its fiery point into  the

vulnerable spot in the armpit. The warrior gasped and sank to his  knees,  and

she whipped the weapon around to decapitate him even as she  launched  herself

at the next foe.

Combat was a blur, after that. Eight warriors had dropped from the flier.

Seven were left, and fully half the Shamed Ones were bleeding on  the  ground.

She had an image of the tracker, his arms knotted in a neck-breaking hold. She

saw another Shamed One strike a warrior on the temple with his club only to be

run through from behind.

Mostly she saw the lightning-quick amphistaff strikes of the two warriors

trying to flank her. She cut at a knee, smelled the scorch  of  flesh  as  the

blade severed through armor. An amphistaff whipped toward her back and she had

to roll be-neath the blow.

Parry, thrust, and cut became her entire existence.

Spattered with Yuuzhan Vong blood and bleeding from several cuts  of  her

own, she suddenly found herself back to back with the tracker. He was all that

remained of the six who had initially been following her, but  there  remained

only three warriors.

For a moment, they stood like that. The warriors backed away a  bit.  The

leader was massive. His ears were cut into fractal patterns; great  trenchlike

scars stood on his cheeks.

"I've heard of you, abomination," he snarled. "The one-who-was-shaped. Is

it true what they say? These pathetic maw luur excretions worship you?"

"I don't know anything about that," Tahiri said. "But I know when I see a

dishonorable fight. They were not only outnumbered, but poorly armed. How  can

you call yourselves warriors, to attack in such a way?"

"They are Shamed Ones," the warrior sneered back.

"They are outside honor. They are worse than infidels; they  are  heretic

traitors, not to be fought but to be extermi-nated."

"You fear us," the tracker rasped. "You  fear  us  because  we  know  the

truth. You lap at Shimrra's feet, yet Shimrra is the  true  heretic.  See  how

this Jeedai has laid you low. The gods favor her, not you."

"If the gods favor her, they do not favor you," the war-rior snapped.

"They are delaying us," the tracker told  Tahiri.  She  no-ticed  he  had

blood on his lips. "They delay us while another tsikvai arrives."

"Quiet, heretic," the war leader bellowed,  "and  you  may  yet  live  to

snivel a little longer.  There  are  questions  we  would  ask  of  you."  His

expression softened. "Renounce your heresy. This Jeedai is a great prize. Help

us win her, and perhaps the gods will forgive you and grant you  an  honorable

death."

"No death is more honorable than dying by  the  side  of  a  Jeedai"  the

tracker answered. "Vua Rapuung proved that."

"Vua Rapuung," the warrior all but spat. "That story is a heretic's  lie.

Vua Rapuung died in disgrace."

For answer the Shamed One suddenly bolted forward, so quickly he took the

leader by surprise, bowling into him be-fore he could raise  his  weapon.  The

other two turned to help, but Tahiri danced forward, feinting at the knee  and

then cutting high through the warrior's throat when he dropped  his  guard  to

parry. She exchanged a flurry of blows with the second, though  it  ended  the

same, with the warrior flopping lifeless to the ground.

She turned  to  find  the  tracker  impaling  the  leader  with  his  own

amphistaff. For a moment they stared at each other, the Shamed  One  and  she.

Then the Yuuzhan Vong suddenly dropped to his knees.

"I prayed it was you!" he said.

Tahiri opened her mouth, but heard the stir of treetops that  could  only

be another flier arriving.

"Come on," she said. "We can't stay here."

The warrior nodded and bounded to his feet. Together they  ran  from  the

clearing.

An hour or so later, Tahiri finally halted. The  fliers  seemed  to  have

lost them for the time being, and the  tracker  had  been  gradually  dropping

behind. Now he staggered against a tree and slid to the ground.

"A little farther," she said. "Just over here."

"My legs will no longer bear me," the tracker said. "You  must  leave  me

for the time being."

"Just under this shelf of stone," she said. "Please. It may hide us  from

the fliers if they sweep here." He nodded wearily. She saw  he  was  clutching

his side, and that blood covered his flank.

They scooted up beneath the overhang.

"Let me see that," she said.

He shook his head. "I must speak to you first," he said.

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

His eyes widened. "No!" he said, so vehemently that blood sputtered  from

between his lips. Then, more quietly,

"No. We thieved a ship from an intendant and came here to find the  world

of prophecy. We saw you land-is this the place,  one-who-was-shaped?  Is  this

the world the Prophet saw?"

"I'm sorry," Tahiri said. "I don't know what you mean. This is Dagobah. I

came here for... personal reasons."

"But it cannot be coincidence," the tracker said. "It cannot."

"Please," Tahiri said. "Let me see your wound.  I  know  a  little  about

healing. Maybe I can..."

"I am dead already," the tracker gruffed. "I know this. But I  must  know

if I have failed."

Tahiri shook her head helplessly.

The tracker straightened a bit, and his voice strength-ened.  "I  am  Hul

Qat, once a hunter. Or I was, until the  gods  seemed  to  reject  me.  I  was

stripped of my title, my clan. I was Shamed. My implants festered and my scars

opened like wounds. I gave up hope and waited for dishonorable death. But then

I heard the word of the Prophet, and of the Jeedai Anakin..."

"Anakin," Tahiri whispered. The name twisted a blade in her.

"Yes, and you, whom Mezhan Kwaad shaped. And Vua Rapuung  who  fought-you

were there, were you not?"

A deep chill ran through Tahiri. She had been Riina,  then,  and  Tahiri,

and she had nearly killed Anakin.

"I was there."

"Then you know. You know our redemption belongs with  you.  And  now  the

Prophet has seen a world, a world where there are no Shamed  Ones  because  it

will redeem us, where the true way can be-" He coughed violently  and  slumped

again, and for an instant Tahiri thought he was al-ready dead.  But  then  his

eyes turned toward her.

"My companions and I wanted to find the planet for our  Prophet.  One  of

us, Kuhqo, had been a shaper. He used a genetic slicer to  get  access  to  an

executor's qahsa and steal its secrets. He found intelligence  gathered  about

the Jeedai, and evidence that there was some connection between you  and  this

world. Some of your greatest came here, yes? And now you. And so please,  tell

me. Have I found it?"

He shuddered, and his eyes rolled. "Have I?" he begged again,  so  weakly

this time it might have been no more than a breath.

Tahiri reached out and took his hand. "Yes," she lied, not  even  knowing

exactly what lie she was telling. "Yes, you're  right.  You  found  it.  Don't

worry about anything now." His eyes filled with tears. "You must help me,"  he

said. "I cannot take the news myself. The Prophet must know where  this  world

is."

"I will do it," Tahiri said.

This time she was not lying.

Hul Qat closed his eyes, and even without using the  Force,  Tahiri  felt

him leave.

Tahiri glanced at the opening of the cave, so near, and she knew that was

not what she had come for at all. This was why she had  come.  The  Force  had

brought her here, to meet this man, to make this promise.

She rose. The fliers would find her if she remained still for  too  long.

She hoped they hadn't discovered her ship  yet,  but  figured  the  odds  were

against it, since they hadn't been looking for her and she  had  concealed  it

pretty well. Even so, she might have a  little  trouble  getting  out  of  the

system, depending on how many and what sort of ships were or-biting overhead.

It didn't matter, though. She had a promise to keep. Even  if  she  could

figure out exactly what she had promised.

TWO

The port shields of Mon Mothma collapsed and plasma punched  through  the

hull like a fist through flimsiplast. At the point of  impact,  matter  became

ions, and supersonic droplets of molten hull metal sleeted  through  the  next

four decks, arriving before the sound or vibration of  impact,  shredding  the

frail life-forms within before their nervous  systems  had  time  to  register

anything amiss. Behind that came a shock wave  of  superheated  air  expanding

with such fury that blast shields bent and warped, and  the  wave-front  swept

the decks end to end, searing everything in its  path.  Two  hundred  sentient

beings winked out in an instant, and a hundred more in  marginal  areas  fell-

perforated, burned, or both.

Then, like a giant taking back its breath, space  sucked  everything  out

through the gaping hole, leaving vacuum be-hind, and quiet.

At the helm of the Star Destroyer, it was far from quiet. Claxons  blared

and panicked young officers stuttered through emergency procedures.  Simulated

gravity vanished, and someone shrieked.

Wedge Antilles closed his eyes  as  the  illusion  of  weight  faded  and

reasserted itself.

I'm so tired of this,he thought.

He opened his eyes to a barrage of smaller plasma blasts aimed  directly,

it seemed, at his face as a squadron of Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers made a  run

straight at the bridge. Turbo-lasers flared three of  them  into  debris.  The

rest peeled away at the last instant to avoid impacting the  still-functioning

bridge shields.

Wedge didn't even blink. The skips weren't their problem right now.  That

would be the Yuuzhan  Vong  Dreadnaught  analog  that  had  just  popped  into

existence and blasted a hole in their side.

"Twenty degrees starboard and twelve  above  horizon,"  Wedge  commanded.

"Now. Commence firing."

He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. "What else has joined our  little

party?" he demanded.

"Four frigate analogs, sir," the lieutenant told him.

"Coralskippers-we're not sure how many flights, yet. And of  course,  the

Dreadnaught. Sir, I'd say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived."

"Yes. We'll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell Memory of Ithor

to watch our wounded flank. We'll have to slug this out."

His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the  caves  of

his  reflexes,  Wedge  was  a  starfighter  pilot.  Sure,  capital  ships  had

firepower, but they were so slow maneuvering. He'd feel a lot better in an  X-

wing. He'd feel better without the weight  of  dead  crew  on  his  shoulders.

Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing two hundred...

But he wasn't in an X-wing, and when he'd come out  of  retirement  as  a

general, he'd known what he was getting himself  into.  So  he  watched,  lips

pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung  into  view,  as  the  Mothma's

turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma.  Most  of

the lasers arrowed  straight,  then  abruptly  curved  into  sharp  hooks  and

vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong  vessel  projected  pulled

the light into them. About every third beam went through, however,  scribbling

glowing red lines in the coral hull.

"Sir, the Memory is unable to come to our aid. She's engaged with one  of

the frigates, and she's taking quite a beating."

"Well, get somebody there. We can't let them hit us in that flank again."

The controller looked  up  from  his  station.  "Sir,  Duro  Squadron  is

requesting   the   honor   of   protecting   our   flank."   Wedge   hesitated

infinitesimally. Duro Squadron was a bit; of a  wild  card,  a  collection  of

pilots-some with military experience, some without-dedicated to the liberation

of their home system.

The fact that it was precisely that system they were  fighting  in  right

now could be a problem, for various reasons.

But it didn't look like he had any other choice.

"Tell them yes, without our thanks," Wedge said.

"Three more ships just reverted, sir," Lieutenant Cel  in-formed  him,  a

catch in her voice that might be the start of panic.

"That's it," Wedge said. "Or it had better be. Get me General Bel Iblis."

A moment later, a hologram of the aging general appeared.

"The reinforcements are here," Wedge told him. "Listening posts have them

coming through the Corellian Trade, Spine, so they're most likely our buddies.

"

"Is it too many to handle, General Antilles?" Bel Iblis asked.

"I hope not, sir. Is your force ready?"

"We're on our way. Good luck, General."

"And to you."

The image vanished. Wedge set his  mouth  grimly,  watch-ing  the  battle

reports.

They had already spent a standard day in heavy fighting, driving  through

the outer defenses of the Duro system in a matter of hours. The  inner  system

had put up more of a fight, but they'd been close to mopping up  when  Yuuzhan

Vong reinforcements arrived.

Wedge had been expecting the reinforcements-counting on them,  really-but

they'd hit hard and fast. A  reassess-ment  of  the  situation  put  the  odds

marginally in favor of the Yuuzhan Vong, which again was no surprise.

It was also okay-they hadn't come here to win, but  they  couldn't  leave

yet, either.

"Prepare interdiction," Wedge said.

Four more Yuuzhan Vong frigates jumped into the Duro system, changing the

odds yet again.

"Sir?"

"Interdict," he said.

The great ship's gravity-well generators came on-line, as  did  those  of

Memory oflthor and Olovin.

Positioned as they were around the Yuuzhan Vong force, they would prevent

the Vong from leaving the system, at least until  the  interdiction  perimeter

was reduced to dust.

Of course, none of the Galactic Alliance ships could leave, either.

"Break off the attack and form up in containment posi-tions," Wedge  said

calmly. "I don't want any of those ships reaching hyperspace."

"What about Duro, sir?" Cel asked.

"Duro is no longer our concern, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Cel said, clearly baffled.

Good. If his own people were confused, hopefully the Vong were more so.

The Alliance ships broke off their push toward the planet  and  retreated

into a broad hemisphere, putting the Yuu-zhan Vong fleet with  the  planet  at

its back, handing them back the defensive advantage that Wedge's earlier  push

had taken from them, but also trapping them more securely in the system.

"Hold the line," Wedge commanded. "We stick here." Spreading  the  battle

group so thinly gave the Yuuzhan Vong an obvious advantage, but the Vong ships

seemed to hesitate, perhaps suspecting another of the traps they had  been  so

often led into lately.

Still, caution was not natural to the Yuuzhan Vong, and they now  clearly

had the advantage in numbers. Several de-stroyers  began  forming  up  for  an

assault on the wall the Galactic Alliance had built.

"Do they have any interdictors of their own?" Wedge asked.

"No, sir."

"Good."

"Yes, sir. Sir, Commander Yurf Col is requesting com-munication."

Wedge repressed a sigh. "Put him on."

A moment later a holo of the Duros commander ap-peared. His flat face was

unreadable in terms of human expression, but Wedge had enough experience  with

Duros to know he was radiating a cold fury.

"Commander," Wedge said, nodding.

The Duros came bluntly to the point.

"What in the space lanes are you up to, General Antilles?

I've lost good pilots today, and now  it  appears  you've  given  up  our

target."

"I'm sure you are as aware of the situation as I am,  Com-mander,"  Wedge

said. "The reinforcements make further assaults untenable."

"Then why are you interdicting? That makes no sense.  I  happen  to  know

that we have twice as many ships in re-serve. Summon them,  and  let's  finish

this."

Patience, Wedge thought.

"Perhaps you aren't aware that the Yuuzhan Vong have means of tapping our

communications," he said mildly.

"Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you that you might  have  just  passed  on

important intelligence to the enemy."

"If we  obliterate  that  enemy,  what  they  learn  will  be  of  little

consequence. I don't know why you want to hold them  here.  They  still  don't

have a decisive advantage-we can win this, if we  attack  instead  of-whatever

you're doing. And with a few reinforcements, we could certainly prevail."

"Commander, I understand this is your home system. I understand that  for

you, this fight is personal. That is, in fact, one of the many reasons I am in

charge of this opera-tion and you are not. You agreed to fight under  my  com-

mand, and you will do so. Do you understand? "

"I understand you have bungled this from the start. We could have won  in

the first few hours if you had followed my advice."

"That is your opinion," Wedge replied. "It is not mine, and mine  is  the

one that counts right now." The Duros's eyes narrowed.  "When  this  is  over,

Antilles-"

"I suggest you worry about the present, Commander. The Vong are trying to

punch through and open two fronts. If they succeed, this  reduces  our  future

options considerably."

"You are the one limiting our options. Two more frigates..."

Wedge cut him off. "Get used to this idea, Commander," he said, "and  get

used to it quickly-there are no reinforcements.  Nor  am  I  yet  prepared  to

abandon this system. Do your part, Commander, and everything  will  go  well."

Col remained unconvinced. "I warn you, General Antilles," he snapped, "if  you

don't explain this to me, I will force your hand."

"You will follow your orders, period," Wedge replied.

"General..." the Duros began, but Wedge waved the contact off and studied

the reports. The attack looked like a feint to draw his net tight in one place

while they hit it in another. But where?

The battle computers searched  for  the  answer.  By  Wedge's  reckoning,

unless the Yuuzhan Vong pulled off something amazing, he would be able to hold

them off for five or six hours without  significant  losses.  That  should  be

enough. He studied the on-spec  chart  their  sensors  were  building  of  the

system-after all, the Yuuzhan Vong had occupied it for more than two  standard

years now, which meant his in-telligence of it was probably a bit  behind,  to

say the least. At this point, an unfortunate surprise was the last thing  that

interested him.

When the surprise came, it came not from some hidden Yuuzhan  Vong  trap,

but from within his own ranks.

"Sir," control  reported,  "Dpso,  Redheart,  and  Coriolis  have  broken

formation, as has all of Duro Squadron."

"Have  they."  Wedge  took  a  deep  breath.  "Get  me  Yurf  Col  again,

immediately."

A few moments later, the Duros's hologram reappeared.

"Commander," Wedge said, trying to keep his tone even, "there must  be  a

glitch in our communications. You seem to be forming an assault wedge when you

were ordered to hold position."

"I have removed myself from your command, General Antilles," Col replied.

"I will not have my people sit idle in their own system, not  without  a  good

explanation. You have refused to give me one. If you will not sustain the  re-

conquest of Duro, I am forced to do it myself."

"You're committing suicide and placing this entire mission in jeopardy."

"Not if you join me."

"I won't."

"Then our deaths will be on your head."

"I'm not bluffing, Commander Col."

"You laid this course, Antilles."

" Commander..."

"You cut me off earlier. I return the favor. Join us or not."

The connection ended, and Wedge watched helplessly  as  the  Duros  ships

dropped out of the perimeter, formed up, and drove straight  for  the  largest

concentration of enemy ships.

"Sir," Cel said, "the Duros ships are taking heavy fire."

"I can see that," Wedge told her.

"Sir, what are they doing?"

"They're trying to make me attack," Wedge said.

"Then it's a bluff, sir?"

A lightning storm was raging between the Duros ships and the Yuuzhan Vong

vanguard. "No," he said, "it's not a bluff."

He turned to control. "No one else breaks formation," he said. "No one."

"Sir, they'll be slaughtered."

"Yes," Wedge said, gruffly, "they will."

One by one, over the course of  the  next  few  hours,  the  Duros  ships

vanished in bursts of plasma. Three hours after the  last  was  gone,  another

message came over the comm board. Wedge gave the order to cease  interdiction,

and the Galactic Alliance ships jumped, leaving Duro once again to the Yuuzhan

Vong.

THREE

A distorted grin sliced Onimi's crooked head in a sign  of  mock  regard.

"Sweet Nen Yim," he croaked. "How de-lightful your presence."

How disgusting yours, Nen Yim thought. She did not say it,  and  she  did

not need to. The tendrils of her headdress writhed and  curled  in  revulsion,

and her multifingered master's hand spasmed into a knot.

If the Supreme Overlord's jester noticed any of this, he  made  no  sign,

but stood there grinning at her as if they were close creche-mates  sharing  a

joke. They weren't; she was the most important of all shapers, and he  was  an

appalling example of a Shamed One, a being upon whom the  gods  had  placed  a

permanent stamp of unreserved disapproval. Why  Shimrra,  the  chosen  of  the

gods-the Supreme Over-lord of her entire species-should choose him as emissary

was utterly beyond her comprehension. It was more than an affront,  it  was  a

misery to even be in his presence,  especially  when  she  remembered-and  she

could hardly forget-that those fingers had  once  touched  her,  when  he  had

disguised himself as a master shaper.

For that alone, he deserved the most ignominious  death  imaginable.  She

had plotted his murder even when she be-lieved him to  be  her  superior,  and

blessed by the gods. Now, when she had the means at her disposal and knew what

he really was, she did not dare.

But she could still dream.

Onimi simpered and smiled. "Your thoughts  croon  toward  me,"  he  said.

"Your tendrils ache for my touch. So much I can see of you, Nen Yim."

Well, he had noticed something, she  reflected.  He  merely  mistook  her

passion.

"Have you come on some errand, Onimi, or  merely  to  waste  my  time  in

foolish conversation?"

"Conversation is not foolish that begs the fool," Onimi said, winking, as

if that actually meant something.

"Yes, as you wish," she said,  sighing.  "Do  you  bring  word  from  the

Supreme Overlord?"

"I bring a dainty," Onimi said. "A glistering pustule from  the  gods,  a

gift for my sweet little..."

"Address me as master," Nen Yim said, stiffly. "I am no 'little' anything

of yours. And come to the point. Whatever else the Supreme Overlord  wants  of

me, I doubt he wants much of my time taken up, not with  so  much  that  needs

doing."

From the corner of her eye she caught one of her assis-tants  suppressing

a smile, and reminded herself to repri-mand her later.

Onimi's eyes went wide, and then he set a  finger  to  his  lips,  leaned

near, and whispered, " Fleeting time laps  hours,  devours  days,  months  and

years, passes them like gas." She said nothing. What other response was there?

But Onimi gestured, and with a great deal of reluctance she fol-lowed him down

the mycoluminescent corridor of her central damutek, through the  laboratories

where she worked her heretical science to produce  the  miracles  the  Yuuzhan

Vong needed to take their rightful place in a galaxy of  infidels.  When  they

passed into a corridor secured even from her, she began to grow intrigued, and

more easily ignored the off-key singing of the jester, who  was  blasphemously

describing in ancient octameter certain activities of the goddess Yun-Harla of

which Nen Yim-thankfully-had never heard.

Of course that was spoiled now.

At last they arrived in a dim space. Something irregular and large bulked

ahead. Light was in it, a faint shifting radi-ance so delicate it could almost

be the colors of the dark be-hind her eyes.

She walked nearer, her shaping fingers outstretched to feel and taste the

surface. It was smooth, almost slick. It tasted of  long  carbon  chains,  and

water, and silicates. It tasted quick and familiar.

"This  is  alive,"  she  whispered.  "What  is   this?"   She   ges-tured

impatiently. "I need more light."

"Eyes are the senses' gluttons," Onimi chortled. "They always want  more,

but they often tell us less."

But brighter lights came up, revealing the thing.  Sleek,  that  was  the

first impression. The glasslike surface curved into four  long  lozenges  that

sharpened almost to needles on one end and ended rounded  on  the  other.  The

lobes were joined around a central axis, though she could not see how. She was

reminded of the taaphur, a sea crea-ture that existed now only  as  a  genetic

blueprint in the memory qahsa of  the  shapers  and  in  its  biotechnological

derivatives.

Damaged, that was the second impression. The life that hummed beneath her

fingers flickered in some places and was absent in others, where the hull-yes,

hull-had gone dark.

"This is a ship," Nen Yim murmured, more to herself than to  the  useless

Onimi. "A living ship, but not Yuuzhan Vong. This came from one of the infidel

peoples?"

"Folds the mystery, and folds again to crumple, our chart is all torn."

" You mean you don't know?" Nen Yim asked, impatiently. For answer, Onimi

reached for her. Her tendrils prickled, bumps  rose  on  her  flesh,  and  her

nostrils flared. But he did not touch her. He handed her  something  instead-a

small, portable qahsa.

"Secrets are like knives," he said softly. "Of your tongue a secret make,

and your mouth is cut."

He left, then, and she watched him go with disdain. Idiotic, to warn  her

of secrets. She was  a  heretic,  a  heretic  secretly  kept  by  the  Supreme

Overlord. Everything she did was done in obscurity.

"Master Nen Yim?"

Nen Yim looked up from the qahsa. Her junior assistant Qelah Kwaad  stood

a few feet away, a look of great concern on her face.

"Adept," Nen Yim acknowledged softly.

"I hope it is not too impertinent, but my project..."

"I will examine your progress in due time," Nen Yim said. "My time."

Qelah Kwaad's tendrils retracted a bit. "Yes, Master Yim," she replied.

"And, Adept?"

"Yes, Master Yim?"

"I understand you are not used to the presence of Onimi and the effect he

can have. But I will not have my subordinates laughing behind my back. Is that

understood?"

The adept's eyes grew round with consternation.

"Master Yim, you cannot believe..."

"Do not use the word can  in  reference  to  me,  Adept,  in  either  the

affirmative or negative form. What I can and cannot do is entirely beyond your

control."

"Yes, Master."

Nen Yim sighed. "It is bad enough,  Adept,  that  we  have  to  bear  the

presence of such an abomination. It is worse to let him  know  he  has  caused

amusement."

"I understand, Master Yim. But-why? Why must we bear his presence at all?

He is a Shamed One, cursed by the gods."

"He is Supreme Overlord Shimrra's jester, and, when it pleases  him,  his

emissary."

"I don't understand. How can such a thing  be?  A  jester,  yes,  but  to

entrust him with secret information..."

"What secret information might that be, Adept?" Nen Yim asked sharply.

"Your pardon, Master Yim, but the jester came, took you to the restricted

area, and you returned with  a  portable  qahsa.  It  seems  obvious  that  he

revealed something to you." Nen Yim studied the adept appraisingly.

"Just so,"  she  said.  "You  are  correct.  But  perhaps  you  ought  to

concentrate more on your work and less on my activities."

Again, the adept looked abashed.

"You have great promise, Qelah Kwaad," Nen Yim said.

"But in this place, we must all take care. We live outside the  world  of

our people, and this place has rules of its own."

The adept straightened. "I am proud  of  my  service  here,  Master.  The

Supreme Overlord has vindicated what the other shapers see as heresy."

"He has not," Nen Yim said. "Not publicly. Nor  will  he.  Have  you  not

noticed the guards?"

"Of course we are guarded. Our work  is  of  great  impor-tance.  If  the

infidels learn of us, they will surely try to de-stroy us."

"That is true," Nen Yim told her. "But a wall that  keeps  something  out

can also keep something in. No warrior, no priest, no outside shaper will ever

learn what we do here.

Shimrra values our heresy, yes-we  produce  new  weapons  and  technology

badly needed for the war effort. But he will never allow anyone  beyond  these

to know how that technology comes into being."

"But why?"

"You are intelligent, Adept. Figure it out for yourself-and  then  never,

never speak it aloud. Do you understand me?"

"I... I think so."

"Good. Now leave me."

Qelah Kwaad made the sign of obeisance and did as she was told.  Nen  Yim

spared her a single glance.

Because, Adept, Shimrra must maintain the fiction that our inventions are

gifts from the gods, and that he is the intermediary through whom these things

flow. If the truth is discovered, and the  Supreme  Overlord  shown  to  be  a

fraud...

Well, suffice to say, Adept, none of us will leave this ser-vice alive.

Which was fine with Nen Yim. It was her pride and her duty to  serve  the

Yuuzhan Vong, and to die honorably for her people when the time came.

Putting the whole matter from her mind, she settled the qahsa before  her

and interfaced with it.

As she began to understand, her excitement grew-and her trepidation.

No wonder Shimrra had sent her his thing. It could change everything.

It could be their doom.

FOUR

"Can't say much for the atmosphere," Raf Othrem said, taking a sip of his

Rylothan yurp and running his green-eyed gaze around  the  mostly  bare  metal

walls of the place that called itself a tapcaf.

"What were you expecting, a casino from the  Galsol  strip?"  Jaina  Solo

asked. "Yesterday this was just a piece of space junk the Yuuzhan Vong  hadn't

got around to pulverizing."

"And now they won't, thanks to us!" Raf said, raising his glass. "To Twin

Suns Squadron, and our illustrious leader, Jaina Solo."

Jaina nodded wearily as they raised their drinks.  Raf  had  all  of  the

enthusiasm that came from having flown only one mission, and that a successful

one. Not only had the battle been won, but her squadron hadn't lost  a  single

pilot.

In time, Raf would lose that youthful exuberance. She double-checked that

thought and almost smiled when she remembered that Raf was actually a year her

senior. Let's not take our  vast  age  and  experience  too  seriously,  Jaina

thought.

She raised her own glass. "To the good fight," she toasted, and this time

she did smile as her wingmates cheered.

Putting on a cheerful appearance was good for the team.

"A brilliant fight," Jag said. "We have the best flight commander in  the

galaxy."

Jaina actually felt a blush coming on-not from the words,  but  from  the

depths of Jag's blue-eyed gaze.

"No argument there," Raf said. "But I'd say one more toast is in order."

"Just one?" Mynor Dae said. "I can't imagine you  shut-ting  up  for  the

rest of the night."

"No doubt," Alema Rar drily seconded. Raf sent the Twi'lek a  mock-glare,

then raised his glass.

"To General Wedge Antilles, and the plan that gave us back Fondor."

"I'll drink to that," Jaina said.

But before the glass reached her lips, something fell onto the  table.  A

Rogue Squadron patch. She looked up into the round-eyed gaze of a young Duros.

A very unhappy-looking Duros.

"Lensi?"

"Colonel," he acknowledged, his voice flat and clipped.

"Join the celebration, Lensi," Raf said. "Not  that  we  normally  mingle

with disreputable Rogues, but-"

"I have nothing to celebrate," Lensi said,  his  gaze  still  focused  on

Jaina. "And I will no longer fly with Rogue Squadron. My people were  betrayed

today. Betrayed by General Antilles. Betrayed by Jaina Solo."

Jag came to his feet at that, followed closely by a  growl-ing,  towering

Lowbacca. Jag stared at Lensi with deadly  calm.  If  Lensi  was  troubled  by

either Jag or the Wookiee, he didn't show it.

"Lowbacca, sit down," Jaina said. "Jag-please. Let him talk."

The Wookiee reluctantly followed orders, but Jag stood squared  off  with

the Duros for several long seconds.

"Be careful what you say, Duros," he finally said. "Where  I  come  from,

there are penalties for slander."

"What's on your mind, Lensi?" Jaina asked.

"Many of my people died in the attack on Duro."

"They didn't have to," Jaina said. "The  attack  on  Duro  was  a  feint,

designed to draw reinforcements from here. The Duros commander of the  mission

broke with the plan. He jeopardized both missions."

"He was not told the attack was a feint," Lensi said.

"No one was!" Raf exploded. "We were all in the dark."

"That's why it worked, Lensi," Jaina said. "Yuuzhan Vong intelligence  is

good. Wedge had to make the buildup look like it was aimed at Duro, and he had

to make the at-tack there look convincing."

"Duro was the more lightly occupied," Lensi said. "We  could  have  taken

Duro. We were promised this." His face tightened into an  even  flatter  mask.

"We were used."

"Such is war," Jag  said.  "Fondor  was  considered  the  more  strategic

target. The liberation of Duro may come next, it may not." He nodded his  head

around the crowded room. "Many of the pilots here have lost a homeworld to the

Vong. You think you're alone? You think every one of them wouldn't  prioritize

the liberation of their homeworld over every other, if  they  were  given  the

choice? War isn't fought on the basis of sentiment and  desire.  Battles  must

ac-complish tactical goals."

"Your 'tactical goals' see many of my people dead today."

"Because they disobeyed orders,"  Jag  snapped.  "They  signed  on  under

General Antilles. If they had paid attention to him, most if not all  of  them

would still be alive. If you want to know who betrayed your people  to  death,

look to the commander who broke ranks."

"We aren't children," Lensi persisted. "We should have been told."

Jag started to speak again, but Jaina cut in.

"Maybe," she said. "In hindsight, maybe. Or maybe we would  all  be  dead

now." She softened her voice. "You were a good wingmate at Sernpidal.  I  know

you've done well with Rogue Squadron since I left. We're  going  to  win  this

war. We're going to win back Duro. But only if enough of  us  keep  fighting."

She picked up the patch and tossed it to him. Reflexively, he caught it.  "You

have to do what your con-science dictates."

Lensi hesitated, looking at the patch. "Colonel Solo," he  said,  "I  was

there, after Sernpidal, when you slapped Kyp Durron for lying to us. You  know

what it feels like to be betrayed, to fight without knowing what you're really

fighting for."

She raised her eyes and regarded him  steadily.  "I  know  what  lots  of

things feel like," she said. "And you know what? I'm still fighting. I'm going

to keep fighting until there isn't a single threat left in  this  galaxy.  You

think you're the only person who has lost something  in  this  war?  Grow  up,

Lensi."

The Duros regarded her for another long moment.

"Did you know?" he asked.

"No. But if I had, I wouldn't have told anyone. General Antilles did  the

right thing."

Lensi nodded curtly, turned, and left. He still had  the  in-signia  with

him.

"General Antilles?"

Wedge stopped tapping his fingers on the Kashyyyk-wood  conference  table

and acknowledged the heavy-jowled Sullustan.

"Yes, Admiral Sow?" he said.

"What is your opinion on the matter?"

"We should have told Col," Wedge said, bluntly.  "I  should  have  broken

orders and told him myself. He had a right to know exactly what he was getting

his people into."

"Under perfect  circumstances,  yes,"  Admiral  Kre'fey  said.  "But  the

circumstances were far from perfect. Bothan  intelligence  had-has-information

that the Yuuzhan Vong have a spy placed high in the command structure  of  the

Duros government-in-exile. Indeed, it was through that leak that  the  Yuuzhan

Vong 'discovered' our plans to in-vade the Duro system-as we planned."

"Col might have been brought in," Wedge replied. "He was a  hothead,  but

he could be trusted with a secret."

"Perhaps," the white-furred Bothan replied, "perhaps not. As it  is,  our

plan was fulfilled."

"With more losses than necessary."

"Still fewer than projected," General Garni Bel Iblis said,  from  across

the table. "The battle at Fondor was a total rout. We did them  great  damage,

and now we have a secure i position from which to strike at Coruscant."

"Gentlemen," Sien Sow said, "I'm  declaring  the  matter  closed  from  a

military point of view. Certainly General An - j tilles is not  to  blame.  He

followed the orders this council gave him. I refuse to allocate any  resources

for an internal investigation, not at this point in our war against  the  Yuu-

zhan Vong."

"That tables the matter of the Duros protest," Kre'fey said.  "It's  time

we move on to what we do next."

Admiral Sow nodded. "General Bel Iblis, how long be-fore the shipyards at

Fondor become productive again?"

"That will take some time," the aging general admitted.

"Two, three months before any facility can go on-line.  Ships-six  months

perhaps. Probably not sooner. But once construction actually begins, they will

be quite productive. They should position us well for a push toward the Core."

"Good," Sien Sow said. "In the meantime we should continue the process of

isolating Coruscant from the rest of Yuuzhan Vong territory. Which  brings  me

to this." He tapped the table, and a hologram of the galaxy appeared.

"Yag'Dhul and Thyferra are secure, finally, and Fondor  is  ours."  Three

stars near the dense, glowing center of the galaxy  winked  green,  indicating

the positions of the systems named.

"Coruscant, however, is still well supplied."  Coruscant-or  whatever  it

was the Yuuzhan Vong had renamed it-lit up, on the other side of the Core from

the other three.

"It's time to threaten that."

A final star lit.

"Bilbringi," Wedge said.

"Yes. There is some evidence  that  the  shipyards  there  are  partially

intact. More, it gives us a base from which to harry both the Hydian  Way  and

the Perlemian Trade Route."

"It's too close to Coruscant," Bel Iblis said. "And too far from our  own

secure zone. We can never hold it." He shook his head. "We don't want  another

Borleias. No offense, General Antilles."

"None taken. Our actions at Borleias served their in-tended  purpose.  We

never imagined we would keep it." He turned to Sien Sow. "But he's right,  the

Yuuzhan Vong can hardly ignore a threat that close to Coruscant. I don't think

we have the ships to take it if they have advance warning. If  they  don't,  I

doubt we could hold it very long. Not and keep our own systems secure."

"They have the same problem," the  Sullustan  admiral  pointed  out.  "As

we've proven to them, they've taken more systems than they can  hold.  There's

not much in the Bil-bringi system, but there are no habitable planets. In  any

event, I have a tactical reason for choosing Bilbringi as a target."

Wedge raised an eyebrow and waited, as another sector of the  galaxy  lit

up, this one Rimward.

"The Imperial Remnant," he murmured.

"Indeed," Sow said. "Admiral Pellaeon has agreed to lend us  his  support

in this enterprise, and Bilbringi lies within good striking  distance  of  the

Empire. Between us, we can  carve  a  corridor  through  the  Rim,  eventually

cutting Coruscant off completely."

Wedge bit back a protest. He'd  spent  most  of  his  life  fighting  the

Empire, and his opinion of Pellaeon was  a  mixed  one,  the  recent  alliance

notwithstanding. But he de-cided to hear Sow out.

"It's true Pellaeon can reach Bilbringi without passing  through  Yuuzhan

Vong territory," Kre'fey said. "The same is not true for us."

"No. We will have to fight our way  through  several  hy-perspace  jumps.

Here is what I propose."

Lines began drawing themselves across the galaxy. "Our  main  fleet  will

launch from Mon Calamari, under Admiral Kre'fey," he said. "Part of the  fleet

at Fondor will move to meet them, under General Antilles. When they  converge,

they will be joined by a detachment from the Imperial fleet."

"The Vong will suspect a trick," Bel Iblis said, "after what  we  did  to

them at Fondor."

"Exactly," Sow said. "But the only trick in  this  case  is  overwhelming

force. I expect them to hold  back  reinforce-ments,  fearing  it  is  another

feint, perhaps to draw defenses from Coruscant itself."

"Interesting," Wedge allowed. "Though  there  will  be  a  trick  in  the

coordination. The hyperspace routes are uncer-tain these days. If one  of  our

fleets arrives too early, or too late..."

"The HoloNet is functioning at high efficiency in those areas. We  should

be able to coordinate down to the second."

"What's the Empire getting out of this?" Bel Iblis asked.

"Exactly what I was wondering," Wedge replied.  Sow  shrugged.  "We  long

made efforts to convince Pellaeon that we  must  work  together  to  free  the

galaxy from the Yuuzhan Vong threat. Our efforts have paid off, so far to  our

great benefit."

"I'm aware of our diplomatic efforts," Bel Iblis said. "As  well  as  the

Empire's recent aid to us-in return for help we gave them, I  might  add.  I'm

also aware that they want some of our planets in return."

Sow's brows lowered. "They aren't 'our'  planets  any-more,  General  Bel

Iblis. The planets in question belong to the Yuuzhan Vong now.  Most  are  not

even recognizable as the worlds they were a few years ago.  I'm  convinced  we

need the Empire's help to win this war. If that means showing  them  a  little

goodwill afterward, I don't see the harm. In any case, they aren't making  any

specific demands at this time-this is an effort to establish their good inten-

tions, nothing more."

Good intentions that will place at least some of them  as  an  occupation

force spitting distance from Coruscant, Wedge thought.

Unfortunately, despite that, he agreed with Sow.

"We can strike now," Wedge said, "press our advantage while we have  one,

or we can wait-wait for the Vong to grow  more  ships,  breed  more  warriors,

invent new bio-weapons. Right now, they've bit  off  a  little  more  of  this

galaxy than they can easily chew, as we've shown them in the last few  months.

We have to keep it that way." He looked around. Everyone but Sow was nodding.

"There is another solution," the commander said.

"You mean Alpha Red, the biological agent developed by the Chiss?"  Wedge

said. "Not as far as I'm concerned. Genocide is what  the  Emperor  did.  It's

what the Yuuzhan Vong do. It's not what we do. If it is, I'm fighting for  the

wrong cause."

"Even if it's our only choice for survival?" Sow asked.

"It's not," Wedge replied, flatly.

"The Yuuzhan Vong will not stop after one defeat, ten,  a  hundred.  They

will fight until every last warrior is dead. Even if they win, the  cost  that

will exact from our people will be tremendous..."

"That question is moot at present," Kre'fey broke in, "and would  seem  a

waste of our valuable time to discuss it."

"Very well. I trust  there  are  no  other  objections  to  pursuing  the

offensive against the Yuuzhan Vong at present?" the commander said.

There were not.

"Then let us discuss details."

Kneeling in the presence of Supreme Overlord Shimrra, Nen Yim believed in

the gods. It was impossible not to. At other times, she had  her  doubts.  Her

late master, Mezhan Kwaad, had flatly denied their  existence.  In  the  clear

light of logic, Nen  Yim  herself  saw  no  particular  reason  to  give  them

credence. Indeed, the fact that she herself created, with  her  own  mind  and

shaping hands, things that all but a few of her people believed  to  be  gifts

from the gods  suggested  that  all  such  evidence  of  their  existence  was

similarly tainted. But in the presence of Shimrra, her mind could not tolerate

doubt. It was crushed from her by a presence so powerful  it  could  not  have

mortal origin. It pressed away the years of her learning, of studied cynicism,

of anything  resembling  logic,  and  left  her  an  insignificant  insect,  a

crecheling terrified by the shadows of her elders  and  the  terrible  mystery

that was the world.

Afterward, she always wondered how he did it. Was it some modification of

yammosk technology? Something erased from the protocols entirely? Or was it an

invention of some heretical predecessor of herself?

He was shadow and dread, awesome and unreachable.

She crouched at his feet and was nothing.

Onimi leered almost gently at her as she rose, shaking, to speak  to  her

master.

"You have studied the thing?"

"I have, Dread One," Nen Yim replied. "  Not  exhaustively,  I  as  there

hasn't been time, but-"

"There will be more time. Tell me what you have discov-ered thus far."

"It is a ship," Nen Yim replied. " Like our own ships, it is -  a  living

organism."

"Not at all," Shimrra interrupted. "It has no dovin I basals. Its engines

are like the infidel engines, dead metal."

"True," Nen Yim agreed. "And parts of its structure are I not alive. But.

.."

"Then it is an infidel thing!" Shimrra thundered. "It is 1  nothing  like

our ships."

Nen Yim actually reeled at the force of the statement, and for  a  moment

she stood paralyzed, unable to think. To contradict Shimrra...

She drew her strength back to her core. "That is so, Dread  I  One,"  she

admitted. "As it is,  it  is  an  abomination.  And  yet,  at  its  heart  the

biotechnology is similar to our own. The in - I fidel engines,  for  instance,

could be withdrawn and replaced I with dovin basals. The living  structure  of

one of our own I vessels could have such a ship grown  around  it.  This  bio-

technology is compatible with our own."

"Compatible?" Shimrra growled. "Are you saying that this is  one  of  our

ships, somehow transfigured by the infidels?"

"No," Nen Yim replied. "In outward form, this  thing  is  very  different

from our vessels. The hull is not yorik coral.  I  The  architectures  of  our

ships were derived from various  I  creatures  of  the  homeworld,  and  those

structures can still I be recognized in their design. The alien technology  is

different.  It  begins  with  relatively   undifferentiated   organisms   that

specialize as the ship grows. I suspect that  some  sort  of  manipulation  is

involved in the ontological process to guide the final outcome.  That  is  why

they used a rigid frame to grow the ship  around-developmentally,  it  had  no

internal code to produce such a structure on its own."

"And yet you still maintain it is similar to our gods-given ships?"

"At the most basic level, yes. Cellularly. Molecularly. And that  is  the

most unlikely level at which we should expect to find resemblance."

"Again. Could the infidels have stolen our technology and distorted it?"

"It's possible. But according to the qahsa, the planet of its  origin  is

itself a living organism-"

"That is a lie," Shimrra said. "It is a lie because  it  is  impos-sible.

Ekh'm Val was deluded. He was duped by the infidels."  Nen  Yim  hesitated  at

that, but could not directly dispute it even if she wanted to.

Instead, she took another approach.

"I'm relieved to hear this," she  said.  "I  thought  the  tale  unlikely

myself." She  drew  herself  straighter.  "Still,  there  is  nothing  in  the

protocols that could account for a  ship  like  this,  nor  do  I  think  this

technology is a result of the manipulation of our technology. It is both alien

and similar to our own."

Shimrra was silent for a moment.  Then  his  voice  came  again,  leashed

terror.

"It is not superior."

"No, Dread Lord. Just different."

"Of course. And you can develop weapons against it?"

"I can. Indeed, Lord, there are already weapons  in  the  protocols  that

would be most effective against technology  of  this  sort.  Oddly,  they  are

weapons we have never built or had use for."

"As if the gods anticipated this necessity."

Nen Yim tried to keep her thoughts quiet.

"Yes," she replied.

"Excellent. You will assign a team to develop these weapons  immediately.

And you will continue to study the ship."

"It would be helpful,  Great  Lord,  if  I  had  other  examples  of  the

technology."

"No such exists. The planet was destroyed. You have all that remains."

Then why do you want weapons against.., Nen Yim  started  to  think,  but

savagely cut herself off.

"Yes, Supreme Overlord."

With a wave of his massive hand, Shimrra dismissed her.

A cycle later, Nen Yim settled onto a  sitting  hummock  in  her  private

hortium and regarded Ahsi Yim.  The  younger  shaper  was  narrower  in  every

dimension than Nen Yim, and her blue-gray flesh had an opalescent sheen  about

it. Her attentive eyes were a rare shade of bronze.

Her master's hand was very new, but they were peers.

"What brought you to the heresy, Ahsi Yim?" she asked softly.

The other master considered this quietly for a moment.  The  fine  silver

tendrils of lim trees groped feebly about the room in  search  of  sustenance.

Plants from the homeworld with no obvious use, Nen Yim  had  resurrected  them

from genetic patterns in the Qang qahsa. They pleased her.

"I worked on the changing of Duro," she said at last.

"On the surface of things, on the record,  we  worked  strictly,  by  the

protocols. And yet, often the protocols were  not  suit-able.  They  were  not

sufficiently flexible for what needed to * be done. Some of  us-did  what  was

necessary. Later I was} assigned here, to  Yuuzhan'tar,  where  so  much  went

wrong.

The strange itching plague-well. The masters there were very orthodox.  I

saw the shortcomings of that.  At  the  same  time,  I  saw  evidence  of  the

infidels' ability to adapt, to change their abominable technology not just  in

small ways, but in large ones. I determined that in  time,  because  of  this,

they must ultimately triumph unless we did the same. So I practiced heresy."

"And were discovered. You would have been sacrificed to the gods if I had

not had you brought here."

"I serve my people," Ahsi Yim said. "The protocols do not.  I  would  die

for that."

"So would I," Nen Yim said. "And so I risk both of our lives  once  more.

Do you understand?"

Ahsi Yim did not blink. "Yes."

"You may have heard that the Supreme Overlord  brought  me  something  to

examine."

"Yes." Eagerness showed in Ahsi Yim's eyes.

"It is a ship," Nen Yim said, "a ship based on a biotech-nology much like

ours. The phenotype is radically different, but the genotype is similar.  More

similar than anything in this galaxy thus far. And the protocols have in  them

certain weapons that seem designed peculiarly well to deal with it.

Shimrra claims the gods must have  anticipated  our  need.  What  do  you

think?"

Again, that long moment of consideration, but this time accompanied by an

excited writhing of tendrils on her headdress.

"I think that is not true," Ahsi said softly.  "The  protocols  have  not

changed in hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. They have  not  'anticipated'

anything else in this galaxy. Why should they anticipate this?"

"Perhaps nothing else here required the intervention of the gods."

Ahsi made a dismissive motion. "There is much here we could have used the

help of the gods with. The Jeedai, for instance. And yet there is  nothing  in

the protocols that even hints of them."

Nen Yim nodded. "I grant I believe as you do. Then  what  explanation  do

you offer?"

"Our ancestors met this technology in the past. We bat-tled  against  it,

and the weapons from that battle remain in the Qang qahsa."

"And yet no record of any such event exists." Ahsi  Yim  smiled  faintly.

"Even the Qang qahsa can be made to  forget.  More  recent  events  have  been

elided. Have you ever  tried  to  learn  of  Shimrra's  ascension  to  Supreme

Overlord?"

"Yes," Nen Yim replied.

"The record of that seems implausibly thin."

Nen Yim shrugged. "I agree that records can  be  erased.  But  why  erase

knowledge of a threat?"

"You think this ship a threat?"

"Oh, yes. Shall I tell you a tale?"

"I would be honored."

"I have in my possession the personal qahsa of Ekh'm Val,  the  commander

who brought this ship to Lord Shimrra. He was sent years ago  to  explore  the

galaxy. He came across a planet named Zonama Sekot."

Ahsi Yim's eyes narrowed.

"What? This means something to you?"

"No," she said. "But the name disturbs me."

Nen Yim nodded agreement. "Ekh'm Val said the planet  itself  was  alive,

its life-forms symbiotic, as if shaped to live together."

"They shape life as we do?"

"They shape life, yes. Not as we do.  And  the  sentient  race  there  is

nothing like Yuuzhan Vong-indeed, from the records, I think  they  must  be  a

race native to this galaxy-Ferroans."

"Then I retract my earlier statement. Our ancestors can hardly  have  met

this world before."

"It seems unlikely. And yet, at the same time, it seems the only possible

answer to the puzzle."

"What happened to Commander Val?"

"He was attacked and repelled, but he managed to capture the ship  before

leaving the system."

"And the planet?"

"Shimrra claims it has been destroyed."

"You do not believe him?"

"No. I've been asked to create weapons that might affect it. Why should I

do that if the danger has passed?"

"Perhaps he fears there are more such worlds."

"Perhaps. Perhaps he merely fears."

"What?"

"If we have met this race before, and fought them - perhaps they remember

it better than we. If we  have  the  key  to  attacking  their  biotechnology,

perhaps they have the key to ours as well. Ekh'm Val was defeated, after all."

"A few ships against a world."

Nen Yim smiled thinly. "Tell me-what sort of  memory  do  you  think  our

glorious ancestors are more likely to have  purged  from  the  Qang  qahsa?  A

glorious victory or an igno-minious defeat?"

Ahsi Yim pursed her lips. "Ah," she said. "And you  think  Shimrra  knows

something we do not."

"I think he knows many things we do not."

Ahsi Yim's tendrils curled in agreement. Then she leveled her liquid gaze

directly at Nen Yim. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Nen Yim replied, "I think you  know  things  /  do  not.  Have

connections that I do not."

"What sort of things?" she asked, stiffly.

"For one, I think you have heard of Ekh'm Val before."

A long silence, this time. "Are you asking something of me?" she said  at

last.

"If this planet exists, I must see it for myself. The ship alone  is  not

enough. I must know more."

"Why?"

"Because I think if I do not, our species is doomed."

Ahsi pursed her lips. Her tendrils knotted  and  waved.  "I  can  promise

nothing," she said, "but I will see what can be done."

SIX

From the bridge of  Yammka,  Nas  Choka  surveyed  the  ruins  I  of  the

occupation forces from Fondor. They weren't much j to look at.

He turned slowly to face Zhat Lah.

"How did this happen?" he asked. His voice was low, pitched only for  the

commander.

"Duro was attacked, Warmaster, as our intelligence  sug  -  I  gested  it

would be. The executor there requested reinforce - I ments. My men were hungry

for battle, and I complied."

His eyes narrowed. "Then they  came.  I  recalled  the  ships  j  when  I

understood the ploy, but they were prevented from leaving the Duro  system  by

their interdictors. The infidels I kept our  forces  pinned  in  the  planet's

gravity well and then I fled. They are cowards!"

"Are you telling me cowards took the system you were entrusted with  from

you? You were beaten by cowards?"

"Warmaster, we were outnumbered. We fought until there was no hope."

"No hope?" Nas Choka asked, in scathing tones. "You were yet  alive,  and

had ships, and say there was no hope? Are you Yuuzhan Vong?"

"I am Yuuzhan Vong," Zhat Lah growled.

"Then why did you not fight to the last? Might you not I have taken a few

more of their ships with you to the gods?"

"A few, Warmaster."

"Then why did you flee? Where is the honor in  that?"  Zhat  Lah's  split

lips twitched. "If the warmaster wishes my life, it is  his  to  give  to  the

gods."

"Of course. But I asked you for an explanation."

"I thought our remaining ships might serve  better  than  to  be  cut  to

pieces in a battle we could not win."

"Did you?" Nas Choka asked. "You had no thought for your own life?"

"My life belongs to the gods. They may take it as they  will.  I  do  not

flinch from death. If the warmaster wishes me to take my personal coralskipper

back to Fondor, I will die in battle. But given the numbers, the  rest  of  my

ships would have been destroyed with relatively  little  damage  done  to  the

enemy. If this was wrong, the responsibility is mine. My men own none of it."

Nas Choka looked back out at the wreckage.

"Two frigates, all but undamaged. A  battle  cruiser  with  only  minimal

damage." He turned to Lah. "You did well," he said.

The commander's eyes widened fractionally with surprise.

"We have spread ourselves too much, over  too  many  star  systems,"  Nas

Choka said. "We have lost too many ships because too many commanders  have  no

more sense of strategy than to fight to the death."

He clasped his hand behind him and regarded Lah.

"We have the late leader of your domain to thank for this situation."

"Warmaster Lah conquered most of this galaxy," Zhat  Lah  protested.  "He

gave us their capital, now our Yuuzhan'tar."

"Yes, and he spent warriors like so much vlekin doing so, and gave little

thought as to how we would hold such vast territories."  He  waved  his  hand.

"Things are changing, Zhat Lah. Things must change. The infidels have adapted.

They have undermined many of our strengths, but we have  undermined  ourselves

even more. The pride of our warriors weakens us."

"But the pride of our warriors is  what  we  are,"  Zhat  Lah  protested.

"Without our pride, without our honor, we are as the infidels."

"And yet you retreated because you thought it best."

"Yes, Warlord," he replied, his tone finally subdued. "But it was  not...

easy. I take the stain on myself, yet there is a stain."

"Listen to me," Nas Choka said. "We are the Yuuzhan Vong.  We  have  been

entrusted with the true way, the true knowledge of the gods. Our  duty  is  to

bring every infidel in this galaxy to heel and either send them  screaming  to

the gods or bring them to the true path. There is no middle ground,  there  is

no faltering. And there can be no failure. Our mission is more important  than

you or me, Com-mander, and it is more important than your honor or mine.  Lord

Shimrra himself has said it. And so, feel no stain. To win this war,  we  must

set aside much we cherish. The gods ordain the sacrifice. We are blameless. We

are those who do what must be done. And so I tell you again-you did the  right

thing."

Lah nodded, understanding lighting behind his eyes.

"Now," Choka went on, "these tactics-these feints and sudden withdrawals,

these strike-here-and-hide-there maneuvers-what  enables  this?  The  infidels

have no yammosk to coordinate their movements."

"They  have  communications,  Warlord.  Their  HoloNet  allows  them   to

communicate instantaneously over the breadth of the galaxy."

"Precisely. But without their HoloNet, such precise coor-dination becomes

much more difficult, yes?"

Lah shrugged. "Of course," he said. "But  destroying  the  communications

system is difficult," he said. "There are  many  relay  stations,  not  always

placed so as to be easily found. When one is destroyed, another may  function,

and the infidels have managed to repair or replace many we have destroyed."

"The destruction of the HoloNet has never been a pri-ority  before,"  Nas

Choka said. "Now it is. And the gods have given the shapers a new weapon,  one

that should per-fectly suit our needs."

"That is well, Warlord."

"It is." He paced a moment.

"I'm giving you a new battle group. You will remain here, at Yuuzhan'tar,

on alert to strike quickly. The infidels  are  growing  confident;  they  will

attack again, soon. I can feel it. And when they do, we  will  have  something

new to show them. Something quite new."

SEVEN

Beneath the black sky of Yuuzhan'tar, Nen Yim moved invisibly. The guards

at their posts did not blink as she passed; the singing ulubs stayed silent as

she moved lightly across the  grounds  of  the  Supreme  Overlord's  compound.

Damuteks glowed with faint luminescence, and ships coming and going were  pale

viridian or blood-colored mists of light  in  the  sky.  Yuuzhan'tar  had  not

always been dark at night. For millennia, it had been the brightest  world  in

the galaxy, never knowing true darkness. Unliving metal had pulsed with unholy

energies, hemorrhaging light and heat and noxious fumes to burn  the  womb  of

night.

Now that unnatural work had been undone, and any brightness came from the

stars alone. Tonight, not even they troubled the closed eyelids of  the  gods,

for a tarp of cloud had been drawn overhead, blotting even the  fierce  beauty

of the Core. So long controlled by machines, the climate  of  Yuuzhan'tar  was

also finding its natural state. To Nen Yim, it seemed paradoxically unnatural.

She had been born and raised on a worldship, nurtured by an or-ganism so large

that she had been like a microbe in its  belly,  kept  warm  and  secure.  The

vagaries of weather were only recently known  to  her,  and  though  her  mind

rationally recognized that on some long-ago day the Yuuzhan Vong had lived  on

a world where seasons came and went, where rain fell when it wished or not  at

all-that this was, indeed, the  natural  course  of  things  -  her  instincts

rebelled at the capricious variability of  it  all.  She  was  a  shaper.  She

preferred shaping to being shaped.

And she despised being cold. She was cloaked in a  creature  of  her  own

modification, a variant of the special ooglith cloakers that hunters wore. Its

billion tiny sensory nodes gazed at the night, heard it,  tasted  it-and  made

her a part of it. For the first time in many, many months she was free of  her

guards, of her damutek. She did not fool herself that the freedom was real. If

she did not emerge from her sanctum in a few hours, questions would be  asked,

and then a search would commence. Being invisible would not be  enough,  then.

But the illusion was heady.

Though she had created the cloak for herself long before, there had never

been any reason great enough to risk  using  it.  Now  there  was.  A  cryptic

message, a meeting place, a possibility.

She passed from Shimrra's fortress compound easily enough. Even a  hunter

could not have managed that, but the cloak of Nuun she wore  was  better  than

the usual sort. It hid her very thoughts, it disguised her mass as a  movement

of air.

She moved on rougher ground now, down a slope and then up to the platform

where a shrine to Yun-Harla, the Trickster goddess, overlooked a vast pit that

had once been sky-reaching buildings. Dark  waters  filled  it  now,  and  the

burring cries of p'hiili rose in shrill chorus with the bass cooing of  large-

wattled ngom. Like the lim tree in her hortium, they were re-created creatures

from the homeworld. A single figure awaited  her  in  the  shrine,  beneath  a

statue of Yun-Yuuzhan that had been made from the skulls and long bones of the

conquered. It, too, carried a  message  from  Yuuzhan  Vong  history-like  the

creatures of the pool, it proclaimed,

This world is ours now.

The one waiting was male, lean, his hair knotted in a  pat-terned  scarf.

All but three fingers had been cut from each hand. Nen Yim stood watching  him

for long moments. His eyes held a contained and fierce  intelligence.  Priest,

she thought.

What could you want with me?

She stood on the vua'sa's spine. Death seemed near. She wasn't sure  what

she had expected, but it wasn't a priest, alone, in the dark.

She moved out of his sight and removed the cloak, then walked back to the

shrine.

This time his gaze found her instantly. His body remained still.

"You've come at a strange time to perform your  ablu-tions,"  the  priest

said.

"I come when I am called," Nen Yim answered.

"So must we all," the priest answered. "I am  Harrar."  Nen  Yim's  spine

prickled. She knew that name. So not just any priest. A very important one.

"I am called Nen Yim, Honored One," she replied.

"You are a master. Our ranks are equivalent,  so  we  may  dispense  with

honorifics. My time is short, and I suspect yours is shorter still."

Nen Yim nodded.

"There are rumors of you, shaper," he said. "You labor alone, under heavy

guard in the Supreme Overlord's compound. It is said you are most  favored  by

the gods, and yet so few know you exist at all. Even a whisper is too  loud  a

tone to speak of you in. It is said that some have died  who  could  not  keep

that whisper in."

"And yet you know of me."

"I know when and whom to whisper to." He smiled thinly. "You, apparently,

do not."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean your attempts to contact the Quorealist  under-ground  have  been

clumsy."

"I do not even know who or what the Quorealists are," Nen Yim asserted.

"Quoreal was the Supreme Overlord before Shimrra. Many do not  think  the

gods chose Shimrra to take his place, they believe that  Shimrra  dishonorably

murdered him. Quoreal's old followers are understandably a reticent group, but

they still exist."

"These are new facts to me, if facts they are."

The priest shrugged one shoulder. "It does not matter who you thought you

were trying to contact. The  point  is  that  if  you  persist,  Shimrra  will

discover you, and I doubt that anyone is so favored by the gods as to  survive

that." He clasped his hands behind his back. "What I wish to know is this: Why

is Lord Shimrra's most favored shaper trying to contact the  pitiful  remnants

of his political enemies?"

"I know nothing of these politics," Nen Yim replied.

"Shimrra is the Supreme Overlord. I  owe  allegiance  to  none  other.  I

desire allegiance to none other."

Harrar cocked his head. "Come now. Why else contact us?"

"Us?"

Harrar's fierce grin expanded a bit. "Of  course.  Clumsy  you  may  have

been, but you have succeeded. Shimrra has enemies. You have found  them.  What

do you want from us?"

"I've just told you, I seek no enemy of my Supreme Overlord."

"But you move in secret, without his knowledge. What do you want?"

Again, Nen Yim hesitated. "There is something  I  must  see,"  she  said.

"Something I believe to be of vital impor-tance to the Yuuzhan Vong."

"How intriguing. Shimrra will not let you see it?"

"I cannot ask him."

"More intriguing still. What is this thing?"

"It is very far from here," Nen Yim said. "I need help get-ting there.  I

need help finding it."

"You obfuscate."

"I am cautious. You tell me you are the enemy of my Lord Shimrra. In that

case you are my enemy, ultimately, and I will not betray information into your

hands." She paused.

"Suppose I merely lied to you, to test your loyalty?"

"Then I cannot trust anything you say," she said.

"In that case, our meeting would seem to be over." He paused again.  "But

I warn you, you are not likely to get an-other chance. You say this  thing  is

of vital importance to our future. How important?"

"It could be our doom."

"And yet you fear Shimrra will not address it?"

"Yes."

"You think you know better what is best for the  Yuuzhan  Vong  than  our

Supreme Overlord?"

Nen Yim drew her shoulders back. "In this case, I do."

"Very well. My pretense of disloyalty was meant to draw a  confession  of

your own. I now believe you are loyal to the order of things. I swear  by  the

very gods, I am also loyal to Lord Shimrra. May they devour me if I  lie."  He

paused, and lowered his voice. "But like you, I do not think his  judgment  is

infallible. Tell me of this thing you must see. Clearly  you  are  willing  to

risk disgrace and death. This is not the time to balk."

Nen Yim clicked the nails of her master's hand  together.  Like  her  own

master, Mezhan Kwaad, she had deadly weapons concealed in it. If  she  decided

the priest could not be trusted, the p'hiili would feed well this night.

"It begins with a commander named Ekh'm Val," she said, softly.

His eyes widened at the name. "Ah," he said.

"You have heard of him?"

"Indeed. I begin to understand your caution. Please continue."

She told him, in brief, what she knew, but she left much out. She made no

mention of her heresy, but couched her studies of the ship in orthodox  terms.

As she spoke, Harrar folded down into a  cross-legged  position  and  listened

like a child does to the true-speaker in a creche. When she was done, a moment

of silence dragged a long tail.

"Astonishing," he said, at last.

"You understand the implications, then?"

"Some of them. Others will come clear. And perhaps I understand some  you

do not."

"I do not doubt that. The priesthood has its own knowl-edge, I'm sure."

Harrar drew his lips back from his teeth. "How kind of you to think  so,"

he said.

"I meant no offense."

"Naturally not." He gestured. "Sit with me."

She complied, resting on a small polyp.

"You swear to me that all you have told me is true?"

"I swear it, by the gods," Nen Yim replied.

He nodded, then looked at her seriously. "Your master, Mezhan  Kwaad,  is

said to have claimed there were no gods."

"She was, for all her virtues, perhaps insane," Nen Yim pointed out.

"Yes, my concern exactly."

"You fear for my sanity? "

"I might, save for one thing. Are you aware of the heresy?"

Her blood went cold and heavy. "Heresy?"

"Among the Shamed Ones. The obscene belief that the  Jeedai  are  somehow

the saviors of the Shamed."

"Yes," Nen Yim replied, hoping her  composure  hadn't  slipped.  "I  was,

after all, on Yavin Four when that heresy began."

"You were, weren't you? You're a part of the story, in fact, at least  in

some versions. In a few, you died gloriously. In all, you vanished."

"I am not current on the folklore of the Shamed Ones, I  fear,"  Nen  Yim

said, stiffly.

"No, I doubt that you are. This heresy now has a leader-a Prophet. Little

is known of him, but he is gaining in power. Not long ago, he made a prophecy-

of a new world, a home for the Shamed Ones, a promise of redemp-tion. A living

world." He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward.  "Does  this  not

sound like your Zonama Sekot?"

"I know nothing of this Prophet or his babblings," Nen Yim said.

"Again, I do not doubt you." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know  where  this

supposed world is?"

"No."

"So you would have me smuggle you from beneath Shimrra's nose, equip  you

with a ship-"

"I can supply my own ship," Nen Yim interrupted.

His eyes turned appraising, but he resumed. "Very well. So  I  need  only

smuggle you out, outfit you, and  help  you  find  this  planet-which  Shimrra

claims is destroyed."

"That is what I desire, yes."

"I cannot do that," he said. "I am too highly placed. I will be noticed."

"Then I have come in vain," Nen Yim said, preparing  the  weapon  in  her

finger.

"Perhaps not," the priest said. "Perhaps the  Prophet  of  whom  I  spoke

could aid you?"

Nen Yim relaxed, marginally. "You  counsel  me  to  col-laborate  with  a

heretic?"

"If you are correct about the threat this planet poses, then a  temporary

alliance with a heretic could certainly be forgiven. You were  right,  by  the

way, not to ask Shimrra to help you. Neither Ekh'm Val nor  any  of  his  crew

remains alive. The Supreme Overlord fears this secret. That in itself tells me

it is vitally important."

"On that we agree," Nen Yim  allowed.  "Still-what  good  could  come  of

contacting this 'Prophet'? Even if he was so disposed, how could he help me?"

"How many Shamed Ones work within the Supreme Overlord's compound?"

"I do not know."

"How many of them can you name?"

She snorted. "One."

Harrar showed his teeth again at the thinly veiled reference.

"This heresy is widespread and well organized. It, as much as your Zonama

Sekot, is a threat to the well-being of our people. I  feel  certain  that  if

this 'Prophet' can be con-vinced you are with his cause, he will find a way to

help you. Especially if, as you say, you have a ship."

"Yes," she said. "It's getting the ship off the  surface  of  Yuuzhan'tar

and out of this system that is the problem." A new suspicion struck her.  "You

want to use me as bait."

"Indeed. But I will not pounce on the Prophet when he comes to free  you.

I will wait, until such time as you deem your mission  complete.  If  done  in

exactly the right way, it might even be possible to convince Lord Shimrra that

you were a hostage of the Shamed Ones, rather  than  the  insti-gator  of  the

expedition."

"You propose a trade in deceits."

"Consider. Two great threats to the Yuuzhan Vong-your mysterious  planet,

my Prophet. We can be rid of them both. If all goes well, you and  I  continue

to serve our people. If not, we go to the gods,  who  know  our  motives  were

pure. Can you see a better path?"

"No," Nen Yim said. "I cannot. But I know little of this Prophet. I  have

no way of contacting him."

"I cannot contact him directly, of course," Harrar said.

"But there are ways of bringing things to his ears. I can  arrange  this.

Are we agreed?"

"We are," Nen Yim said.

And though she felt she had sealed her  doom,  she  made  the  trip  back

through the darkness with lighter feet, and the air felt almost warm.

Harrar watched the shaper move out of sight, wondering again how she  had

managed to meet him without an entou-rage of guards. Did she have some sort of

concealing cloaker, like the cloak of Nuun the hunters wore? Probably. She was

a master shaper, after all. That didn't matter.

What mattered was that he had committed himself to the  proposition  that

she did not represent a trap laid for him by Shimrra or someone in the Supreme

Overlord's hierarchy who disliked him. Every natural instinct warned him away,

but something very deep-perhaps something from the gods themselves-told him he

should trust the strange  shaper.  Rumors  of  the  planet  Zonama  Sekot  had

circulated very quietly among the Quorealists and some priestly sects for many

cycles, and he knew for a fact that Ekh'm Val was not the first  Yuuzhan  Vong

to encounter the planet. Nor, in-deed, had Ekh'm Val  been  sent  by  Shimrra,

though the com-mander himself hadn't known that.

If Zonama Sekot existed-and especially if  the  shaper  was  right  about

there being some hidden history between it and the Yuuzhan Vong-then it  could

be very important. In any event, the priesthood was being  kept  in  the  dark

about something that it clearly should know about. He had lately begun to have

his suspicions about Shimrra.  Not  voiced  ones,  certainly,  but  suspicions

nonethe-less. And today-which had already brought  so  many  inter-esting  new

thoughts-brought another.

Nen Yim did not know, perhaps, how much Harrar  knew  about  shapers  and

their protocols. He was the first to admit that he did  not  know  everything.

But one thing was clear-Nen Yim operated outside the realm of normal  shaping,

and the heresy of the Shamed Ones was  not  the  only  heresy  around.  Mezhan

Kwaad, Nen Yim's late master, had been a heretic, and had died for it.

And here was Nen Yim, alive, favored by the Supreme Overlord, and perhaps

practicing her own heresy in guarded secrecy.

If true, it could mean only one thing: Shimrra himself was a heretic. And

that-like everything else  in  this  situation-had  the  potential  to  change

everything.

If things went as planned, he might manage to kill three targets  with  a

single thud bug.

He rose, and smelled the air, and felt destiny in his veins.

EIGHT

Nom Anor turned the message this way and that in his  mind,  and  saw  it

sharp in every angle. It was hard to  wrap  his  thoughts  around  it  without

feeling the cut, so pregnant with the possibility of betrayal it seemed.

"Who sent you, Loiin Sool?" he asked the messenger, softly. The messenger

was a Shamed One, his shoulders and face a mass of poorly healed scar  tissue.

His eyes were con-cealed by a constricted uruun  cloth,  placed  there  before

he'd begun his descent into the dark, dank places of Nom  Anor's  domain.  The

domain of the Prophet.

A wave of his hand, and Loiin Sool would never see any-thing again.

"I come on behalf of the shaper Nen Yim," Sool an-swered. "I know  little

more than that. I was taken from my work detail, given the message,  and  sent

to find you." Nom Anor nodded. Sool had been checked for implants, of  course,

though no test short of thorough dissection was certain. Was  someone  looking

at him now, from some hid-den pore in the messenger's skin?

If so, they saw not Nom Anor but the Prophet  Yu'shaa,  his  face  hidden

behind a grotesque ooglith masquer that showed only one spectacularly  Shamed,

eyes festering with inflammation and lesions rendering the visage  almost  un-

recognizable as Yuuzhan Vong in origin.

His surroundings would tell them little more. Yuu-zhan'tar was  a  warren

of rusting holes like this one.

"Why does the shaper not come to me herself?"

"She may not leave Lord Shimrra's compound, I am told.  She  takes  great

risk even in sending this message."

That was undoubtedly true. What little Nom Anor knew of Nen Yim suggested

that her role was one that Shimrra was not eager to have widely known. He  had

lent her for a time to Tsavong Lah, but since her return  from  that  liaison,

she had been little seen or heard from. Indeed, Nom Anor had wondered  if  she

had been quietly disposed of.

And perhaps she had. There was no knowing whether this  message  actually

came from her. Since he'd lost Ngaaluh, his spy in Shimrra's court,  much  was

uncertain.

"Why does she seek me out?" Nom Anor asked.

"She heard of your prophecy of the new world. Her  studies  lead  her  to

believe it is a true one. She desires to see this world for herself."

"So you have already said. Why does she seek my aid?"

"Who else could give it? Shimrra and his minions are cor-rupt. They  have

done everything they can to deny the exis-tence of our redeemer.  He  and  the

elite will do much more, because they know that if the truth  is  known,  they

will be seen as the false leaders they are. And you, my lord, will be seen  as

the true Prophet."

"What does a shaper care for that?" Nom Anor won-dered aloud.

"Nen Yim seeks only truth," Sool said.

"You've already told me you do not know her," Nom Anor pointed out.  "How

can you speak for her or pretend to understand her motivations?"

"This is the message, Prophet," Sool answered. "I only repeat it."

A vague chanting had gone up among Nom Anor's acolytes. He began to  wish

he had received Sool  in  private  rather  than  in  front  of  thirty  or  so

followers.

A firm voice cut above the rest: "Praised be the Prophet. He  has  indeed

prophesied truly. The planet of our salvation, our deliverance, is now in  our

very grasp. And Lord Shimrra's own shaper knows it is true!  Our  destiny  has

become a force stronger than gravity."

"Do not be hasty, Kunra," another voice said. "This may be  nothing  more

than a trap, a deception to lure the Prophet into their grasp."

"If so, they must fail," Kunra said. He turned to Nom Anor. "You are  the

Prophet, are you not? Did you not see this, as well? Did you not see  yourself

walking through the forests of the new world, preparing it for us?"

"I saw it," Nom Anor agreed. He had little  choice.  He  had  added  that

little embellishment a few days before. But what was Kunra up  to?  Kunra  had

been with him since the beginning of this whole farce. He knew  who  Nom  Anor

really was-that the "prophet" and his planet were equally fabulous.

"Then the time has come to rise against Shimrra."

"No," Nom Anor slipped out. "Do not presume  to  inter-pret  my  prophecy

when I still sit here among you. The time is not yet come."

"But we have found the planet," Kunra said. "Let me go, Great One. I will

liberate the shaper from Shimrra. I will quest with her for the new world.  If

there is betrayal, our cause will suffer little. If this is truth-"

"Truth must be practical," Nom Anor said. "We would have to  flow  rivers

of Shamed blood to liberate this shaper, and  still  she  does  not  know  the

location of the planet."

"I don't understand," Kunra said. "Do you fear your own prophecy?"

"Quiet," Nom Anor said, his mind whirling furiously.  Zonama  Sekot  was,

indeed, important-if only because Shimrra feared it so  much.  He  knew,  too,

that the shaper had been given what remained of the Sekotan ship to study, and

it would seem she had discovered  something  quite  im-portant.  This  message

suggested one of two possibilities. Ei-ther she was telling the truth, and she

needed help from outside the system to escape Shimrra and find the planet, or-

more likely-they thought Nom Anor knew where the  planet  was.  They  couldn't

know that he had learned of the planet by eavesdropping on Shimrra  and  Ekh'm

Val, that what he had learned there was all he knew.

Well, not quite all. He had heard rumors that  the  Jedi  had  found  the

world.

Which struck him suddenly as a very fortuitous piece of information.

"The  prophecy  is  indeed  nearing  fulfillment,"  Nom  Anor  told   his

followers. "But something remains. A piece is missing. When I  set  foot  upon

the new world, I shall not be alone. Jeedai will be with me."

A collective gasp went up at that. Even Kunra seemed disconcerted.

"Great One..."

"The time has come," Nom Anor said, solemnly. "As Vua Rapuung fought with

Anakin Solo, so shall I and the Jeedai free this shaper and find our world."

Cheers, of course.

Let the Jedi do the work and take the risk of freeing Nen  Yim.  If  they

failed, they would be blamed, rather than him. If they succeeded-then  perhaps

he would indeed bring his own prophecy to fruition.  At  the  moment,  he  had

little to lose.

NINE

Han Solo scowled and shook a crooked finger at Tahiri.

"Kid," he drawled, "I hope you aren't counting  on  another  lucky  break

your whole life, because you've just used up whatever you may have had coming.

"

"Easy, Han," Leia interposed. "Anyway, look  who's  talking.  They  don't

call it Solo luck for nothing."

"'They' don't know what they're talking about," Han replied. "I've  never

needed luck-I've always depended on skill."

"Of course you have, dear," Leia said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, I-anyway, that's not the issue," Han grum-bled.  "The  issue

is you, young lady, flying off against good advice to a planet  that's  always

been trouble for this family, alone, running past a Yuuzhan Vong frigate in an

X-wing-"

"I didn't have a choice," Tahiri pointed out. "The frigate  was  sort  of

between me and escape."

"Sure you had a choice. From what you say, they probably didn't even know

you were there-they were after their own runaways. You had a whole  planet  to

hide on. You could have picked a better opportunity to leave-like  after  they

did. It's a real miracle that you got out of the system, jumping  on  a  half-

fried engine-it's amazing you didn't end  up  on  Tatooine.  And  Ylesia.  And

Bonadan. What was your blazing hurry? "

"I made a promise," Tahiri said.

"A promise? To what, a marsh spider?"

"No. To a Shamed One."

"A Yuuzhan Vong?" His tone was incredulous, but then his face  registered

his mistake. Everyone was still getting used to exactly who she was now.

That didn't mean she was going to let him off the hook.

"I made a promise to a person" she said. "Because it was the right  thing

to do."

Han closed his eyes and looked momentarily very, very tired. "If I  could

name the times I've heard that right thing to do line...  Tahiri,  you're  too

young for this. You've been through a lot. Can't you just-just-take a rest?"

"Good advice," Leia interposed, taking Tahiri by  the  shoulders.  "Can't

you see how tired she is? Why don't we talk about this after she's been to the

'fresher and caught a nap? It can wait that long, can't it, Tahiri?"

"Yes, "Tahiri said.

"But..." Han began, but Leia cut him off.

"My husband is just trying to tell you he was worried about you and  he's

glad you're home."

"I know," Tahiri said. "And I appreciate it."

Han's face softened, and then set into  lines  of  reluctant  acceptance.

"Well, yeah. But I still think-"

"Why don't you get cleaned up, Tahiri, and we'll have a bit of dinner. We

can talk more then."

"It is good to have you back, Mistress Tahiri," the golden droid  assured

her as she made her way toward the refresher.

"Thanks, Threepio," she said. "It's good to be back." She meant it. She'd

grown up on Tatooine and in a Yuu-zhan Vong creeche, she'd studied the ways of

the Jedi on Yavin 4, but more and more the Millennium Falcon felt  like  home.

It was a  feeling  both  comfortable  and  unsettling,  but  from  what  she'd

gathered, that was a large part of what home was all about.

"I hope you weren't injured in your travels," C-3PO went on.

"No, I'm just a little banged up. And tired."

"Well, now you can rest. And, I must say, Onih k'leth mof'qey."

That sent a little shock through her.

"Don't..." she began, but cut herself off. This was not an abomination-it

was 3PO.

C-3PO caught the sudden anger in her tone, however.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Mistress Tahiri. I only wanted to-

"Make me feel welcome," she guessed, "both as a human and a Yuuzhan Vong.

"

"Yes, mistress."

"It's okay, Threepio. I'm still working the bugs out of this. It's  just,

hearing a droid speak that language-

"Oh, yes. I understand how the Yuuzhan Vong feel  about  droids.  In  the

future I shan't-"

"No. Like I said, it's okay. These are exactly the things I have to face.

"

And hope I can.

"Very well," C-3PO said, with extravagant relief. "But, if I may ask,  is

the integration of your former personalities... complete?"

Tahiri smiled. "It's complete. But it's like-like being raised by parents

who taught you one set of values, and then learning a different set of  values

in school. Which is right? There are conflicts in what most  people  feel  and

be-lieve. I'm no different in that respect, maybe just a little more  extreme.

Do you understand?"

"I believe so."

"Part of me was  raised  to  believe  that  machines-especially  thinking

machines-are abominations. But that's just something I learned. It's not  part

of who I am. It's not part of the Yuuzhan Vong on any intrinsic level, either-

it's just what the leaders and priests teach us as crechelings. It's something

that can be unlearned, that must be unlearned, because it's wrong.  You're  my

friend, Threepio, or at least I hope you are. And if, now and then, I have  an

unthinking reaction to you, I truly hope you can understand and for-give me."

"Oh, very easily," C-3PO said. "Thank you for explaining it to  me."  His

voice shifted back to consternation.

"Oh, heavens, I'm holding you up when you should be resting. I'll go now.

"

"Wait, Threepio."

"Is there something else?"

"Just this." And she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

"Oh, my," C-3PO said. But he sounded pleased.

She woke, not knowing exactly  where  she  was.  She  lay  still  in  the

darkness, letting the  world  return  to  her,  solidify  about  her,  fearing

something but not knowing what.

The Millennium Falcon, she thought. Right. That's where I am.

She glanced at the table chrono and realized she'd been asleep for almost

a standard day. Shaking off the dream-shroud, she pulled on  her  Jedi  robes,

visited the 'fresher, and then went looking for Han and Leia.

She found them in the lounge, discussing something in  low  and  somewhat

heated tones. She coughed softly, not wanting to eavesdrop.

The two turned toward her.

"Finally up, I see," Leia said. Her voice sounded a bit odd.

"Yeah," Tahiri replied. "I guess I was more exhausted than I thought."

"You ought to be," Han grunted.

"I'm ready to talk now, if that's okay."

"Why not?" Han muttered. "Have a seat."

She slid in next to Leia and clasped her hands together in front of  her,

trying to think how to start.

"You said something about a promise," Leia prompted.

"Right." Briefly, Tahiri laid out the events on Dagobah.

"The Shamed Ones were looking for a planet," she said, when she was  done

with the narrative. "A planet their Prophet thinks may bring them redemption."

"Dagobah? Why Dagobah?"

"These Shamed Ones sort of worship the Jedi. They found out somehow  that

Anakin and Luke had  been  there-that  it  had  something  to  do  with  their

training." Han raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting. How exactly would  they

know that?"

"That's not hard," Leia said. "The Yuuzhan Vong have been  obsessed  with

the Jedi from the very beginning. We know they have good intelligence. Anyway,

the story about Luke meeting Yoda there isn't exactly a well-kept secret."

"But they were mistaken," Tahiri  said.  "Dagobah  isn't  the  world  the

Shamed Ones are looking for."

Han had the same expression on his face he usually wore  playing  sabacc.

"Oh? And what world do you think they are looking for?"

"The same one Master Skywalker was looking for. And found. Zonama Sekot."

Han's eyes widened slightly. Then he puffed and raised  his  hands  in  a

gesture of frustration.

"Leia," he said. "You tell her."

"Tell me what?"

Leia pursed her lips. "Kenth Hamner contacted us while you  were  asleep,

on a heavily coded channel. He wants to talk to you."

Kenth Hamner.

"The liaison between the Jedi and military? " She couldn't quite  picture

his face. She seemed to remember it was long.

"Right."

"Did he say what it was about?"

"Not exactly," Leia said cautiously. "But it involves Zonama Sekot-and  a

dissident movement within the Yuu-zhan Vong."

Han looked at her earnestly. "Tahiri, whatever it is, you don't  have  to

do it."

"Of course I do," Tahiri said. "I promised the Shamed One..."

"You promised  him  you  would  tell  his  Prophet  about  Dagobah,"  Han

interrupted. "You made no promises con-cerning Zonama Sekot."

Tahiri smiled slightly. "My promise was one of izai, not  one  of  strict

legality."

"What?"

"Izai is the essence of a promise. The Shamed One thought  he  had  found

the planet foretold. I promised him that I would take this news  back  to  his

Prophet. But Dagobah isn't the planet foretold.  Therefore,  the  izai  -  the

essence of my promise-requires me  to  carry  the  news  that  the  planet  of

prophecy has been found."

Han pushed his palms into his face. "This is making  my  head  hurt,"  he

said.

"I think I need to speak to Kenth Hamner," Tahiri said firmly.

"We're already on the way there," Han grunted. "But I hope you know  what

you're doing."

"I do."

"No," Han said, a little angrily, "you think you know what you're  doing.

It's a conceit born out of being young. Jaina  thinks  she  knows  what  she's

doing. Anakin thought he knew what he was doing."

"Anakin did know what he was doing," Tahiri said, softly. " If he  hadn't

done it, there might not be a single Jedi alive today. I know  I  wouldn't  be

here. Didn't you know what you were doing when you came back  to  save  Master

Skywalker at the Death Star all those years ago?"

"I was older than you," Han said, rising from the table. He  got  up  and

went toward the cockpit. But he stopped and  turned,  with  one  hand  on  the

hatch.

"And, to answer your question," he said, "no, I didn't have the  faintest

idea what I was doing." He chuckled briefly, shook his head, and vanished into

the corridor. Kenth Hamner did indeed have a long face. He  also  had  a  firm

handshake, and an office so spare it might have been a storeroom. The view was

interesting, though. His window looked down upon a landscape of  bloodred  and

black swirled together, laced over with silver coils  and  me-anders  of  tide

creeks and pools. Beyond that, jagged black mountains sawed at a sky the  same

metallic color as the water.

Land was scarce on Mon Calamari, but often dramatic.

"Salts," Hamner said,  noticing  her  interest.  "When  this  island  was

forming, there was  a  lot  of  volcanic  activity-and  geysers  the  size  of

volcanoes. Those deposits are mil-lions of years old."

Tahiri nodded, preoccupied. What would the old  Tahiri  have  thought  of

this view? Or Riina? She found it beautiful, but where did beauty  come  from?

Not from the Force, be-cause the Yuuzhan Vong didn't know the Force,  and  yet

had concepts of beautiful and ugly.

It occurred to Tahiri that she had seen many things  she  thought  of  as

beautiful since her integration, but nothing she considered  truly  ugly.  Was

that strange? Probably. But maybe ugly was a smaller concept  than  beautiful,

and the overlapping tastes of her dual origin had virtually canceled it out.

Kenth had turned his attention to Han and  Leia,  so  she  continued  her

regard of the landscape.

"It's going to be a big push," Kenth was saying. "Exactly how big I'm not

at liberty to say."

"So soon after Fondor?" Han asked.

"The Yuuzhan Vong are off balance. It's a good time."

"Yeah," Han said doubtfully, "they're trying to defend  too  many  worlds

with too few forces. I hope the Alliance isn't about to make the same mistake.

"

"Don't worry. This goal is doable."

"It's not an attack on Coruscant itself?" Leia asked.

"Nothing so ambitious," Kenth said.

Tahiri felt Leia's relief in the Force, and Han's,  too.  An  at-tack  on

Yuuzhan'tar would exact a horrific cost in ships and personnel,  and  whatever

was going on at the moment, Twin Suns-and Jaina-were sure to be in  the  thick

of it. After her "vacation" from the  military,  Jaina  had  insisted  on  re-

joining the fight. Tahiri had heard from her only once since she  left,  right

after the Battle of Fondor.

She missed Jaina. Han and Leia's relief was her own.

"Well, looks like the rest of the gang is here," a new voice interposed.

Tahiri spun from the window. A shortish, neatly goateed man stood there.

"Corran!"

"In the aging flesh," he said. "It's nice to meet you, Tahiri."

The surge of joy she'd felt at seeing the former CorSec officer  faded  a

little at the odd turn of phrase. So he knew she had changed, of course-and he

had that guarded look in his eyes. That was Corran-suspicion was as natural  a

part of him as it was her. Still, it felt bad. He's wondering if I'm friend or

foe, she realized. That felt worse.

"I do remember you, Corran," she said, trying not to  let  the  hurt  and

anger show in her voice. "I'm just happy you're still talking to me after  the

mess I got you into at Eriadu." She hoped the shared reference would  set  him

more at ease.

"There was plenty of blame to go around," Corran said.

"Anyway, I turned out okay. The Givin  have  written  a  po-etic  theorem

about you, did you know that?"

"I shudder to think what that even means," Tahiri  said.  Hamner  cleared

his throat. "I hate to break up the re-union, but-"

"Yeah," Han said. "What's this about, exactly?" Hamner set  something  on

the desk.

Tahiri recognized it immediately. "A Yuuzhan Vong qahsa," she said.

Hamner nodded, and stroked the cilia-covered knobs in the  back.  A  face

suddenly extruded from the front, a Yuu-zhan Vong visage in miniature.  Though

the detail wasn't that of a holograph, it was still clear that  the  face  was

hor-ribly disfigured-and not in the way the Yuuzhan Vong preferred.

"A Shamed One," she murmured.

"We got this from a Yuuzhan Vong courier two days ago," he said.

"Intercepted?" Corranasked.

"No," Hamner replied. "It was sent to us."

"Sent?" Han echoed. "What's the story? Another ultimatum?"

"No. It's not from the official command  structure.  For  some  time  now

we've known that there is an underground movement within the Yuuzhan Vong."

"It's from the Prophet," Tahiri said.

Kenth raised an eyebrow. "Yes. We've heard of him, of  course,  but  it's

been unclear exactly what his goals are. While any division within the Yuuzhan

Vong weakens them, we've never  known  what  the  rebel  attitude  toward  the

Galactic Alliance is. We know the Jedi figure into  their  creed,  but  little

more than that."

"Anakin started it," Tahiri said. "Or, in  a  way  he  did.  He  and  Vua

Rapuung, when they rescued me on Yavin." Hamner nodded. "There  were  inchoate

movements after that, yes, but  it's  more  recently-with  the  rise  of  this

prophet, 'Yu'shaa'-that the resistance has really taken on substance. He seems

to have unified the malcontents.  There  are  even  reports  of  sabotage  and

assassination, especially on Coruscant." He folded his hands.  "It's  not  the

origin of the cult that concerns us right now, but rather the motives  of  the

Prophet himself. Until this"-he nodded at the qahsa-"we haven't had much to go

on."

"And now you do?" Leia asked.

"I'll let you decide for yourself." He touched the qahsa again,  and  the

face animated, speaking in accented Basic.

"I greet you," the face said. "I am known as Yu'shaa, the Prophet. It may

be that you have heard of me, that I am the leader of the Shamed  Ones,  those

accursed by the gods. That is true, so far as  it  goes.  We  are  treated  as

Shamed by our brethren-or by many of them. But we are not ac-cursed.  Many  of

us were once honored and commended by  our  people.  Many  of  us  made  great

sacrifices for Supreme Overlord Shimrra. Yet we are treated with contempt  be-

cause our bodies reject the modifications and implants the Yuuzhan  Vong  have

chosen as symbols of rank and pride.

"Before coming  to  this  galaxy,  we  had  little  to  hope  for  except

dishonorable death. We believed the lies our leaders  told  us.  But  now  the

membranes have been torn from our eyes. We see that  we  may  be  redeemed  by

redeeming our people.

"The Jedi taught us that. The Jedi show us the way.  They  fight  not  to

show their strength, but to help the weak.  You  may  know  that  Anakin  Solo

fought beside one of our own, Vua Rapuung, and restored his honor.  Thanks  to

the Jedi, we are not Shamed. Rather, it is Shimrra and the others who lead who

are accursed, who have set our people-and  the  people  of  this  galaxy-on  a

course that can bring only Shame to us all.

"The Jedi have helped us in the past. They have shown us a glimpse of the

true path. I have seen in dreams and visions where that path leads.  It  leads

to a planet, a planet that can I heal and redeem us, that can bring the mighty

down and raise up the humble and end the terror we all find ourselves enmeshed

in. It is the planet of prophecy. It is Zonama Sekot.

"I have seen this planet, but the gods have not granted me the ability to

find it. I do not despair, because I believe the j Jedi know where it is.

"Here is what I beg of you: that you take me, and me alone, to the planet

of prophecy, so that I may see it for my-self, so I can know  that  my  vision

was true. I wish also to I speak with the Jedi, and  seek  their  counsel  and

wisdom.

"Unfortunately, I do not have the means to come and go  as  I  please.  I

live within the clenched fist of Shimrra's hand, and shall need help escaping.

On the planet you once called Coruscant, I await  your  judgment.  This  qahsa

contains a schedule of times I might meet you in a  secluded  place.  It  also

contains what I have been able to  gather  about  the  planetary  defenses  of

Yuuzhan'tar. I give this as a gesture of good faith, but be wary-I  am  unsure

how complete the information is.

"I look to the stars, Jedi. I look to you. All our worlds can be  better,

I am certain. I have information that can be of benefit-which  might  end  the

war-but I cannot use it unless I reach Zonama Sekot. I may  not  speak  of  it

here-if this falls into the wrong hands, the danger will be great, and I  will

not betray others. Heed my humble call, I  beg  you."  With  that  the  figure

seemed to lean forward, as if bowing, and then the image froze.

"It's a trick," Han blurted into the following silence.

"You all see that, right?"

"It could be," Hamner said. "But the Prophet is real. His  opposition  to

Shimrra is real. This could be a genuine * offer."

"He's not offering anything," Han replied. "He's just asking. He's asking

us to fly right to the heart of the Yuu-zhan Vong empire and  try  to  attempt

some kind of crazy rescue. It's a setup. Couldn't be clearer."

"It's not a setup," Tahiri said.

All eyes turned toward her.

"Tahiri..." Leia began.

Tahiri pushed ahead. "His followers are already looking for Zonama Sekot.

I met some of them on Dagobah."

"Means nothing," Han replied. "How do we even know this guy on that thing

is actually this 'Prophet'? Shimrra has a pretty good spy network with us. How

much better do you think it must be among his  own  people?  He  figures  this

Prophet guy would intrigue us, and now he's baited the trap with him."

"I don't think so," Tahiri said. "I think that was the real thing."

"Based on what?"

"A feeling."

"A feeling." Han rolled his eyes. "A feeling."

"Kenth," Leia said, "what about the information on the  qahsa?  The  data

about planetary defenses. Can we check it out?"

"I have, to a certain extent. It looks good. We were able to get a  drone

in and out through some of the weak spots he described. And we have  a  secret

weapon of our own-a captured Yuuzhan Vong ship."

"You're really thinking about biting at this?" Han asked, incredulously.

"We think the right team would have a shot."

"Whatteam?" Leia asked.

"He means Corran and me," Tahiri said.

"Correct."

"Wait one vaping minute," Corran said, before even Han could  object.  "I

thought we'd agreed she would only advise beforehand."

Leia turned to the Corellian. "You were already briefed on this, Corran?"

"Yes," the pilot admitted. "Admiral Sorr reassigned me  to  the  mission,

but we didn't discuss this."

"I'm laying it on the table now so we can talk  about  it,"  Kenth  said.

"Tahiri speaks their language and knows their ways.  She's  flown  ships  like

this before. I doubt very much this mission could succeed without her."

"Well, it's blinking well going to," Corran replied. "Or I'm out."

"I'll do it," Tahiri said.

"No, you won't,"

Han exploded.

Tahiri sighed. "You mean a lot to me, Captain Solo. Both of you do.  I've

never really had parents-not human ones, anyway-and I respect you. But this is

something I have to do. Jaina and Jacen do their part. Anakin did his part."

"And look how that turned out." Han was trying to  sound  flip,  but  she

felt the stab of Han's pain at the mention of his youngest son.

"That's the chance we take," she said softly.  "It's  the  chance  you've

been taking all your life. I know you don't want to lose anyone else.  I  know

you worry about Jaina and Jacen, and you don't want to add  worry  for  me  to

that. But this war has gone on far too long. If things keep going like they're

going, it will only end when one  side  is  extermi-nated.  We  have  to  find

another way. That's why Luke and Jacen went to find Zonama Sekot."

"Yes, about that," Leia said. "Hasn't it occurred  to  anyone  that  this

might be more than a trap for a Jedi or two? That it might  be  a  prelude  to

another attack on Zonama Sekot?"

"That's why I'm here," Corran said. "If I figure this

'Prophet' isn't operating in good faith, I'll do what's neces-sary to fix

things."

"Luke should have something to say about this."

"I tried to contact him," Kenth said. "But there is some problem with the

HoloNet in that sector."

"We just finished saving that relay," Han said. "It should be working."

"But it isn't," Kenth said. "We've sent a team to check it  out.  In  any

case, we can't talk to Luke."

"We'll have to use our own common sense, then," Han said. "You're walking

into this playing by Yuuzhan Vong rules, Corran."

"Maybe. That's why I want to do it alone."

"Maybe you don't trust me," Tahiri said.

Corran smiled. "I didn't trust you even when I knew who  you  were.  Your

impulsive actions nearly cost me my life on a couple of occasions, remember? I

know you mean well..."

So much for there being plenty of blame to go around, Tahiri thought.

"I've helped betray the Yuuzhan Vong once already," she pointed out.

"You helped betray a  military  commander  to  save  your-self  and  your

friends. Tell me-if we discovered the only way to win this  war  was  to  kill

every Yuuzhan Vong, would you do it?"

"No. Neither would Luke or Jacen."

Corran nodded and stroked his beard. "Don't dodge.

What if it really came down to them or us?"

"There is no them or us, Corran. Do you really think the Shamed Ones want

this war? Do you really think that malice is built into the  Yuuzhan  Vong  at

the hereditary level?"

"It's built into their culture."

"Exactly. And culture can change."

"Sometimes," he said." If people want it to, and work at it."

"And that's what this mission is all about, right? If we  let  this  door

close, we may never see another one open."

"Now wait," Han said. "We've gotten a little off  track  here.  We  never

settled that Tahiri can do this."

"Yes, we did," Leia said. Her voice was equal parts  pride  and  sadness,

and it sent a chill up Tahiri's spine. For an in-stant, looking at Han in  his

frustration and Leia in her ac-ceptance, she felt a love for them so  powerful

it nearly made her cry.

"Thank you," she said.

Han crossed his arms and puffed out a breath of air.

"Well, fine-then we're going, too."

"We'd rather have you here, in reserve, when we start  the  new  action,"

Kenth said.

Han's brow wrinkled in consternation and  Tahiri  felt  a  j  sudden  new

ambivalence. Whatever was coming up, Jaina would probably be  involved.  Would

Han want to be away, in unfamiliar territory, protecting  her,  when  his  own

daughter might need him?

But he was Han, and he'd already started. "Hey," he said to Kenth. "Don't

start thinking I'm regular military. If Corran won't go..."

"Oh, space it," Corran said. "I'll go. Now, let's see this i  ship  we're

going to use."

PART TWO

"I've got blips on the horizon," Corran muttered.

"I see them," Tahiri said, her heart  sinking  slightly.  Everything  had

gone fine, up until now. The holes in  Yuuzhan'tar's  planetary  defenses  had

been where they  were  supposed  to  be.  They  had  come  through  the  upper

atmosphere fine. Corran hadn't even complained about her flying. But now, just

when they were almost there, trouble came hunting like a qhal.

"They haven't seen us yet," she told him.  "They're  atmospheric  fliers-

they don't have the legs we do."

"Doesn't matter," Corran said. "The minute they figure out  something  is

bogus, this mission is over. And you're coming in way too steep."

"I know," Tahiri said. She could feel the yorik coral hull  of  the  ship

beginning to blister. She straightened out  infini-tesimally,  but  that  sent

them bouncing violently across a thermal boundary.

"I thought you knew how to fly these things," Corran grunted.

"Ido,"shesaid, feeling her irritation grow. "You want to avoid  our  blip

friends, don't you? That means coming to ground  fast,  before  they  come  in

range to scent us out."

"They're going to see us," Corran said. "Because we're going to burn like

a meteor if you don't slow up."

"All the better," Tahiri said. "You saw the system chart. There must have

been half a billion satellites in orbit around Coruscant.  Without  anyone  to

maintain them, they must fall by the dozens every day."

"Good point," Corran conceded. "They won't notice us as we disintegrate."

"Right."

"We're only ten klicks from the ground now."

Tahiri nodded. "Hang on, and hope the dovin  basals  in  this  thing  are

healthy."

She nosed up ever so slightly, and now her goal came in sight-Coruscant's

single sea. It didn't look like the holos she'd seen. There,  it  had  been  a

sapphire in a silver setting, an artificial bathing pool on a planetary scale.

Now it was a vast jade bezeled in a  landscape  of  rust  and  verdigris.  The

fliers were almost in range.

"This is going to be really, really close," she told Corran.

"Great," Corran said, teeth gritted.

"From what I've heard, you've done  crazier  things  than  this,"  Tahiri

said.

"Yes. Me. I'm a highly trained pilot. You've flown, what, three times?"

"The controls are yours if you want them."

The controls, of course, consisted  of  a  cognition  hood  that  fit  on

Tahiri's head. She guided the ship by becoming a part  of  it.  A  non-Yuuzhan

Vong could fly one-Jaina had proven that-but it helped to  have  the  language

and the instincts.

And her instincts told her she couldn't wait any longer or Corran  really

was going to have cause for complaint. She cut in the  dovin  basals,  pushing

them away from the planet, killing their  velocity.  She  nudged  the  applied

force up quickly, so quickly that the living  gravitic  drives  couldn't  also

fully compensate for the g's they were pulling. She felt  her  weight  double,

then triple, and the blood in her brain started looking for a way out  of  her

toes.

Hang on, she thought.

Hang on.

Blotches of darkness filled her vision, and her chest felt like a  bantha

was sitting on it. She saw the blips coming into range, entering...

Then the lozenge-shaped craft hit the water and  skipped  like  a  stone.

Everything went crazy for a moment. She didn't quite black out, but the ship's

pain jammed through her own thoroughly  confused  senses.  She  growled,  then

howled.

When it all made sense again she saw green.

They were sinking.

"Well," Corran said. "That was-interesting. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Now let's see if it was worth it."

The  blips-or,  rather,  the  projected  symbols  that  repre-sented  the

approaching craft-continued to get closer. Something in the  ship  creaked  as

they continued to sink.

"I wonder how deep it is here," Corran mused.

"Not too deep, I hope," Tahiri said. "If I use the drive with  them  this

close, they'll notice. The hull should be able to take a good bit of pressure.

"

The blips were  right  overhead,  now,  and  they  suddenly  broke  their

pattern.

"Not good," Corran said.

"Khapet,"

Tahiri snarled. She'd screwed up. Now they would have to fight, run,  and

hope to make it to a safe  place  to  jump  to  hyperspace  before  they  were

overwhelmed. Nice going, Tahiri. Prove to Corran you  really  are  the  stupid

little girl he remembers.

"They're going," Corran breathed. "They must have just been investigating

the splash. Or the burn trail." He nodded. "Good call. I don't want to  do  it

again anytime soon, but..."

"That's two of us," Tahiri said, sighing and watching the fliers continue

on their patrol.

Somewhere, something cracked. It sounded like ceramic breaking.

"Okay," she said. "Let's just ease us up a little."

"Do that," Corran said, "but don't surface-wait, how well can this  thing

work underwater?"

"Well enough. Unless I have to use voids."

"Yes, let's not do that," Corran said. "Can you disable the function?"

"Sure. But why?"

Corran tapped his datapad and pulled up a chart.

"The Western Sea  is  like  any  sea-it's  fed  by  rivers.  But  because

Coruscant is Coruscant, the rivers are artificial. Big pipes, to be exact.  If

we take this one"-he indicated a spot on the  chart-"it  will  get  us  pretty

close to where we're going."

"Assuming the tubes are still there," Tahiri said. "Yuu-zhan'  tar  isn't

Coruscant."

"It's worth a look," Corran said. "Anything that will keep us  below  the

level of detection-and between what Jacen and our best intelligence tells  us,

they don't have very secure control of a lot of the  old  underground.  That's

why our Prophet is there, presumably."

"It's not the way he told us to come."

"No, it isn't," Corran said. "Which gives it another mark, as far as  I'm

concerned."

Tahiri nodded and changed  her  heading.  "I  hope  we  don't  bump  into

anything," she said. "I can only see ten meters or so."

"Just go slowly. We're not in a hurry anymore-the  ren-dezvous  is  hours

away."

They found the river, a mammoth tube  whose  diameter  the  ship's  radar

analog suggested was a hundred meters or so. Tahiri kept them centered in  it,

and worked her way slowly up its length.

"That's funny," she said, after a few minutes.

"Funny ha-ha or funny we're about to diet."

"Odd. What were these tubes made of?"

"Duracrete, mostly. Why?"

"That's what the sensor signature was like when we started in.  But  it's

changed, now."

"Changed how?"

"It's irregular."

"Maybe it's decomposing," Corran suggested.

"And not metal," she added.

"Let me guess. It's alive."

"Probably."

Corran scratched his beard. "The  Yuuzhan  Vong  must  be  replacing  the

abiotic drainage systems with biotic ones. That would be typical."

"Yes."

"How far back was the boundary? How long have we been in this new part?"

"We just passed it. We're only a few tens of meters in."

"Right," Corran said. "Back up. I want to think about this for a moment."

Tahiri shrugged. "You're in charge."

"Yes, I am. I was wondering if you knew that." It didn't quite sound like

he was kidding.

Tahiri reversed direction until they were back in the old tunnel.

"What would they be using in place of the old pipe?" Corran asked.  "Were

we about to swim up the gut of a giant worm?"

Tahiri considered. "I'm not really sure," she said. "The shaper darnuteks

have succession pools in their centers. Waste goes into them to  be  purified,

and they have roots that go  down  into  the  planet  to  draw  up  water  and

minerals." Corran nodded. "  I  remember  hearing  that  Anakin  crawled  down

through one of those 'roots' so he could  hide  in  sub-terranean  caves  long

enough to build a new lightsaber."

"Yes, he did."

"And you think the Yuuzhan Vong are converting the  Western  Sea  into  a

huge succession pool?"

"Maybe. Or it might be more like a ship's maw luur. It's the same  idea-a

combination nutrient bank and sewage treatment plant-but the technology  is  a

little different be-cause a ship's maw luur is a closed system. Here, I'm  not

sure which they would use-but in a lot of ways,  Coruscant  was  more  like  a

worldship than a normal planet, right? No natural ecosystem?"

"Yes. In fact, the Western  Sea  served  something  of  the  purpose  you

describe anyway."

"Sure. So while they're  still  deconstructing  the  place,  maybe  their

interim design is based more on worldship than planet."

"Makes sense. So if this is a big maw luur,  we're-"  His  eyes  widened.

"Get us out, now."

Tahiri gave the command, and the dovin  basals  quivered  to  life.  They

began moving back toward the entrance.

"New plan," Corran said. "I've no intention of  going  up  a  world-sized

digestive tract."

"I hate to say this,"  Tahiri  said,  "but  that  revelation-"  Something

slammed into the ship, hard.

"-may have come a little late."

"What is it? "Corran said.

"Something big," Tahiri said. "We're inside it."

"Well get us outside it!"

"I'm trying, but it must have ten times  our  mass."  Her  skin  suddenly

began burning. "Uh-oh," she mut-tered. "It can digest yorik coral, whatever it

is."

"Part of the maw luur?"

"There are symbiotic organisms in a maw luur that help break down  larger

things. Nothing this big, though."

"But this is a really big maw luur," Corran said. "Digesting  really  big

things."

"True," Tahiri replied. "Anyway, if you've got any sug-gestions  on  what

to do here-"

"Fire the plasma cannon."

"In an enclosed space?" Was Corran crazy? "That could be bad."

"So could being digested."

"Right."

She bit back a shriek as plasma ejected into the  water  and  brought  it

instantly to boiling, scalding and compressing her hull. The pressure and heat

mounted,  peaked-and  then  they  were  tumbling  free.  When   they   finally

stabilized, the water in the eyelamps had gone dark blackish  red,  and  nasty

chunks of pulverized meat floated all around them.

"Well, that was disgusting," Corran said.

"Yes," Tahiri informed him. "And this tube is sucking."

"I agree. So let's get out of it."

"No," she said, trying to remain calm. "I mean it's  sucking  us  up  it-

capillary action, probably, like the roots of a succession pool."

"Surely not too hard to counteract with the dovin basals?"

"Not at all," Tahiri  replied.  "If,  that  is,  the  dovin  basals  were

working."

ELEVEN

"The dovin basal is dead?" Corran asked.

"Not dead," Tahiri said. "But it's badly  damaged.  I'm  trying  to  coax

something out of it, but it's sort of in shock right now."

Of course, it could also be dying, but she kept that thought to herself.

"We're going faster," she said, instead.  "  Whatever's  pulling  at  the

other end of this tube is increasing its draw."

"How fast?" Corran asked. His voice was  maddeningly  calm  now.  Did  he

think this was her fault?

"Only about sixty klicks a minute," she said.

"That's fast, when you don't have anything to  damp  inertia,  which  I'm

guessing we don't right now. If we hit something at this speed..."

"Like another predator?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of a full stop," Corran said, punching

at the datapad. "This tunnel is going to  split  eventually,  and  again,  and

again-little rivers flowing into the big one, streams into the rivers,  sewers

into the streams-eventually we're going to hit tubes too small to go through."

"That was going to happen anyway," she pointed out.

"You must have had some plan for us to  exit  this  thing  in  the  first

place."

"That sort of assumed we were going  to  be  under  power,"  Corran  said

wryly.

"We may have some power. I'm starting to feel  some-thing  in  the  dovin

basal."

"It's coming back on-line?"

"It's a living thing. It can't go on - and off-line."

"Fine. It's coming around?"

"Somewhat. I might be able to nudge it into responding, but it  won't  be

able to keep it up for long, so I'll need to  pick  my  moment.  Or  moments-I

think short bursts of power would be okay."

Corran frowned down at his chart. "Originally, there was a nexus up  here

where six smaller tubes branch off. It's probably coming up fast. If  you  can

take the third from your left, do it."

Almost as he said it, they burst into a flattened sphere full  of  water.

Something black with a lot of tentacles  went  whip-ping  by  them,  furiously

fighting the current. Tahiri bit her  lip,  trying  to  interpret  the  ship's

failing senses through the murk.

"One, two, three-it might be four," she muttered.

"There's not time for a better count."

She sent a gentle command to the dovin basal,  which  quivered  and  then

reached out. It didn't take much-just enough to divert  them  into  the  right

stream.

"I think I did it," she said.

"Good," Corran said, "now-"

"No!" Tahiri yelped. The rim of the tube loomed.

A sudden shock nearly tore them from their crash couches, and  an  unholy

shriek of impact filled the cabin. A series of lesser shocks followed  as  the

ship rattled down the smaller tube, turning end over end.

Tahiri's stomach churned, and her last meal made a good try  at  escaping

its intended fate.

"Sorry about that," she managed.

"Can you get this tumble under control?" Corran asked.

"I could," she said, "but I really like tumbling." Didn't  he  think  she

was trying? "What's our next turn?" she asked. "The next  node,  we  take  the

second from the right."

The dovin basal was starting to come out of its funk, though Tahiri could

tell it was very weak. They couldn't fight the current,  but  her  control  of

their forward motion improved. They made the next turn without  clipping  any-

thing, and the next. The tube had narrowed so much that they had  only  a  few

meters' clearance.

"This is almost it," Corran said. "The next intersection  used  to  be  a

cooling tower. We should be able to go up into the water jacket. We  can  park

the ship there and go the rest of the way on foot."

"Let's just hope they haven't replaced the cooling tower  with,  I  don't

know, a lorqh membrane," Tahiri said.

"Don't tell me what that is, okay?" Corran said. A few moments later, the

ship bobbed to the surface in a large, open area.  Tahiri  made  out  a  flat,

sturdy-looking sur-face a tier above, and gently coaxed the ship up to it.

"Well done," Corran said.

"Thank you. Are we where you thought we were?" Corran studied the  chart.

"Yep. From here, we can find access tunnels to the place we were  supposed  to

meet this Prophet. All we have to do now is find him, bring him back here, and

do all that in reverse."

Tahiri sighed. "And find another ship. I don't think  we  can  even  make

orbit in this one, much less a hyperspace jump."

Corran's jaw clamped, then he shrugged. "Well, we've stolen ships before.

We can do it again." But she could tell he was worried. The  quipping  was  to

set her at ease, because he still thought she was a kid.

"Fight what's in front of you," she said. "Let's go find out  more  about

this Prophet."

"Can't say the Vong have improved much on this," Corran remarked, as they

wound their way through the dark  cav-erns  that  had  once  been  Coruscant's

underworld. Now it was a mass of corroding metal, strange, pale  growths,  and

luminescent lichen. It looked as if it had been abandoned for centuries rather

than months. Despite the setbacks Jacen had engineered  with  the  dhuryam-the

World Brain-the Yuuzhan Vong shapers seemed to be making headway.

"Of course, it was never exactly homey down here," he added.

"Yuuzhan Vong," Tahiri corrected. "Did people live here back in  the  old

days?"

"Lots," Corran said. "The vast majority of people who lived on  Coruscant

weren't what you would exactly call comfortable."

Tahiri  shivered.  "I  can't  imagine  living  like  this,  below-ground,

surrounded by metal, no sky, no stars."

"Is that Tahiri or Riina talking?"

There was something subtly testing in his voice.  "Neither  one  of  them

would have liked this," she said. "Tahiri grew up in the  desert  and  in  the

jungles of Yavin Four. Riina grew up in a worldship. Both were  surrounded  by

life."

"Riina didn't grow up anywhere," Corran said. "Riina  was  created  in  a

laboratory."

"You think that makes a difference?" she asked, stung.

"How do you know all your memories  are  real?  If  you  found  out  your

memories of Mirax were implanted, that there was no such person, would she  be

any less real to you?"

"Unh-unh," Corran said. "Not buying the sophomoric  philosophy.  Part  of

you was once a real person. Part of you was created, like a computer program."

"You think Threepio isn't real?"

"You know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Tahiri said. She'd  pretty  much  had  enough  of

this, because she didn't know whether to cry or hit him. "And  I'll  bet  I've

thought about it a lot more than you have. What I don't  know  is  why  you're

pushing this, here,  now.  I  thought  we  covered  this  before  leaving  Mon

Calamari."

Corran stopped, regarded her in the light of their lamps.

"No, we didn't. Or, rather, none of my worries were really resolved.  You

asked if I trusted you. It's not that I don't trust you, Tahiri-I  don't  know

who you are. I don't know what might be sleeping in you, waiting  to  wake  up

when the right stimulus comes along. And I can't believe that you can be  sure

about that either."

That was a tu'q, a solid hit.  "No,  of  course  I  can't,"  she  finally

managed. "But I'm not part Tahiri and part Riina. There aren't two  voices  in

my head. Those two fought, and joined, and I was born. They were sort of  like

my parents. Nothing about either one of them is  perfect  in  me.  Even  if  I

inherited something nasty from Riina, it will be flawed. I'll be able to fight

it."

"Unless you don't want to. Unless it's something that would have appealed

to both Tahiri and Riina."

She conceded that with a nod. "You've already taken the risk, Corran. Why

didn't we have this conversation days ago?"

"Because I wanted to see something of who you've become."

"And who have I become?"

"You're bright and talented and far too confident. I'm  not  sure  you're

afraid of anything, and that's bad."

"I'm afraid," she said.

"Of what?"

"Fear. Anger."

"The dark side."

"Anakin saw me as a Dark Jedi with Yuuzhan Vong markings. He  was  strong

in the Force." She shook her head.

"It's not some hidden Yuuzhan Vong part of  me  that  should  worry  you,

Corran. It's the Jedi part. Tahiri was trained as a Jedi from childhood. I-the

person I've become-was not."

His eyebrows beetled up. "That's an interesting thing to  say.  I  hadn't

thought of it that way."

"Most people haven't."

"Okay," Corran said. "We'll take this up later, when we aren't skulking."

"Are we skulking now?"

"Yes, because we're almost at our destination. If there's anyone  waiting

for us, I'd rather they didn't interrupt an in-teresting conversation."

A few moments later they passed an immense  shaft  of  some  sort.  Faint

daylight illuminated it, so she could guess that it was perhaps two kilometers

in diameter. Looking up, she could see a faint circle of rose-colored light.

"How deep is this shaft?" she wondered aloud.

"About three klicks."

"What in the galaxy was this?"

"A garbage pit," he said. "They used  to  shoot  dangerous  garbage  into

orbit from here, with magnetic accelerators."

"That's a lot of garbage," Tahiri said. "This is where we're meeting him?

"

"Yes. In about fifteen minutes, if he's  on  time."  While  they  waited,

Tahiri looked around a bit. A lot of Yuuzhan Vong life had crept into the pit.

"What are those called?" Corran asked her. He was  pointing  at  a  plant

with thick, reedlike stalks that glowed a vivid blue color.

"I've no idea," she admitted. "I've never seen one before.  There  are  a

lot of things like that down  here-things  from  the  homeworld  that  weren't

needed or wanted on the world-ships. Or maybe they're new, engineered to  live

on metal." She touched the glowing cylinders. They were  cool,  and  the  fine

hairs on the back of her hand stood up.

Ten minutes later, they heard the faint echoes of footsteps.  Tahiri  put

her hand on the grip of her lightsaber. It might be the Prophet, but it  might

be anything. A faint green luminescence appeared, carried  by  a  tall,  well-

formed warrior.

"It's a trick!" Tahiri whispered. She ignited her  light-saber.  Corran's

blazed on an instant later.

The warrior stopped, now fully illuminated.

"Jeedai!"

"Look at him," Tahiri said. "He's not malformed. He's not Shamed!"

But the warrior had dropped to his knees.

"Jeedai," he said in Basic. "Welcome. But  you  are  not  correct.  I  am

indeed Shamed."

After the initial shock, Tahiri had begun to  notice  other  details-like

the fact that the warrior wore no armor,  and  that  some  of  his  scars  and

tattoos were incomplete.

"You speak Basic," Corran noticed.

"For your convenience I am equipped with a tizowyrm."

"Are you the Prophet?" Corran asked.

"I am not. I arrive before him, to make certain all is safe. My  name  is

Kunra."

"And is it?" Corran asked. "Safe?"

"You are Jeedai. I have no choice but to trust you. My fear was that  our

communications had somehow been in-tercepted, and that I would  find  warriors

here."

Tahiri switched to Yuuzhan Vong. "Why were you Shamed?" she asked.

The warrior's eyes widened. "One-who-was-shaped!" Then his eyes  switched

back to Corran, and he returned to Basic.  "The  slayer  of  Shedao  Shai!  We

expected Jeedai, but not the most august of them."

"Ah, there are still a few higher on the ladder than  us,"  Corran  said.

"Luke Skywalker, for instance."

"But he does not figure in our sacred tales!"

Tahiri was in no mood to let the warrior become dis-tracted. "I asked you

a question," she snapped. The warrior bowed his head. "I  was  a  coward,"  he

said.

A cowardly warrior? Tahiri thought. No wonder.

"You seem to have some courage," Corran said. "You came  down  here,  not

knowing if you would find us or an ambush."

"I serve the Truth now. It gives me courage, though I am still unworthy."

"And yet the most worthy of my disciples," a new voice said.

Tahiri glanced up. A tall figure had just come into the chamber. His face

was a mass of unhealed scars and fes-tering sores, his right ear missing.  The

sacks below his eyes were distended, yellow, and...

No, something was wrong. She looked more  closely.  It's  not  real,  she

realized.

He's wearing a masquer.

"You're Yu'shaa?" Corran asked.

"I am. It is my honor to meet the great Tahiri Veila and Corran Horn."

Tahiri acknowledged that greeting with a curt nod.

The Prophet bowed. "This is truly a blessed day," he said.

"Right," Corran said. "Though for a blessed day, we've  had  some  fairly

unblessed setbacks. Including the fact that our ship was destroyed  in  coming

here."

"You were discovered?" the Prophet asked, a bit sharply.

"No. At least I don't think so."  Tahiri  watched  him  care-fully  while

Corran described what had happened.

The Prophet nodded when he finished. "You are correct, Blessed One-it  is

unlikely that you were discovered. I sus-pect your firing of the plasma weapon

caused some sort  of  malfunction  in  the  maw  luur's  reflexes.  There  are

hundreds, if not thousands of such malfunctions every day, and  I  doubt  this

one will be closely scrutinized. As to the other, once more we  see  that  the

universe favors our cause. The final member of our party claims to have a ship

at her disposal."

"Final member of the party?" Corran made it sound like, Yow  want  me  to

kiss a gundark?

"Yes. A shaper who holds the secret to our redemption."

"I thought you..."

"I am the Prophet. I speak the truth and foretell what is to come.  I  am

not myself the key to redemption-I merely see it."

Corran glanced  at  Tahiri.  "That's  interesting,"  he  said,  "but  our

mission, as I understood it, was to come here and get  you  and  take  you  to

Zonama Sekot. Now you want us to change the mission to include  someone  else.

In my experi-ence, changes in the mission can lead to unpleasant results."

"I am sorry," the Prophet said.  "But  as  you  said,  your  mission  has

changed already-now we must have a ship. As to the shaper-I could not speak of

her on the qahsa. She is placed very close to Shimrra-it is how she discovered

Zonama Sekot in the first place."

Corran sighed. "Explain."

"A commander named Ekh'm Val went to Zonama  Sekot,"  Yu'shaa  said.  "He

fought there and was defeated. But he re-turned with something of the  planet,

which this shaper has studied. She discovered a certain  inexplicable  kinship

be-tween the biology of Sekot and our own biotechnology."

"Again, interesting, but..."

"We are from another galaxy, Jedi Horn. We crossed the starless night for

age upon age. Our legends go deep, and yet nowhere is such a thing hinted  at,

at least not in any-thing I  ever  heard.  And  yet  here,  in  this  time  of

darkness, two things are given us. To me, a vision of Zonama Sekot as  a  sign

of our redemption. To the shaper, the  revelation  that  we  have  some  prior

relationship to this planet-a relationship that Shimrra fears. I do  not  know

what these things mean, but they can hardly be coincidence. But like me,  this

shaper must see the world of salvation with her own eyes, to know the truth-to

know exactly what it all means."

"And how do you know she isn't betraying you?"  Corran  asked.  "You  say

she's part of Shimrra's inner circle? I'm sure he would like to get his  hands

on you at least as much as on the two of us."

"No doubt. But I believe her. Ekh'm Val was murdered upon his return from

Zonama Sekot, along with all his sur-viving warriors. Shimrra fears  even  the

rumor of this planet. The shaper is  already  as  good  as  dead,  merely  for

knowing what she knows. Shimrra would never allow her to leave  his  compound,

much less travel freely to the very planet he fears."

"So you're saying we have to break her out of Shimrra's compound?" Tahiri

blurted, incredulous.

"Yes. I'm afraid it's the only way."

"Yu'shaa," Tahiri said, "why are you wearing a masquer?"

She  felt  Corran's  reaction  in  the  Force-a  sudden  height-ening  of

suspicion. But he didn't say anything, and she was watching  the  Prophet  for

his reaction.

But the Prophet showed no surprise, nor should he have-any  Yuuzhan  Vong

would see the masquer for what it was: an organism that presented a false face

to the world.

"You know our ways," he said. "I wear this masquer for my people. I  have

sworn not to remove it until our redemption has come. For you, I might take it

off, but I have adhered it with  dhur  qirit.  The  removal  process  is  very

lengthy."

So it was basically sutured to his face. That made sense, sort of-several

Yuuzhan Vong sects in the past had habitu-ally worn masquers as  a  matter  of

daily ritual. They had, in fact, originally been  developed  for  that  rather

than as a means of disguise.

But here, in this  context,  Tahiri  didn't  like  it.  Corran  obviously

didn't, either. "No offense, Yu'shaa," he said,  "but  Tahiri  and  I  need  a

moment to discuss this alone."

"Of course."

They walked a comfortable distance.

"How does this smell to you?" Corran asked.

"I don't really like it," Tahiri said. "But  part  of  that  might  be  a

reflexive dislike of Shamed Ones."

"You think that affects your read of the situation?"

"I hope not. I'm trying to fight it. But there's something  about  him  I

don't like, that's for sure."

"Well, that makes two of us. But the question isn't whether we like  him,

or even whether we trust him. The | question is, Is he telling us the truth at

this moment, as he knows it?"

"I can't say for sure," Tahiri said. "But this all seems pretty elaborate

for a trap."

"My thought exactly. It doesn't make any sense-if they were going  to  do

something, why not here? No, this has the feel of a real plan, albeit a pretty

shoddy one. In fact, it's sort of reassuring." He smiled. "Are you still game?

"

"Of course. I thought you would be the one to object."

"We're in pretty deep already. You've shown me you can  handle  yourself.

And Kenth was right to send you along-I couldn't have made the call about  the

masquer. Let's at least see what the plan is."

"There are hidden ways into Shimrra's palace," Yu'shaa told  them.  "Some

have been discovered, but there is one 1 am still  certain  of.  I  have  been

reluctant to use it, for once I do so I cannot do so again.  Once  within,  we

must make our way to the shaper compound."

"If she has a ship, why can't she just fly it out?" Tahiri asked.

"I don't know," the Prophet replied.  "I  know  only  that  she  requires

defense of a substantial sort, or the escape will be impossible."

"That's not all there is to it," Corran grunted. "She wants  it  to  look

like a kidnapping, doesn't she? So she can have deniability later."

"That seems possible," Yu'shaa agreed.

"Hmm. Do you have a diagram of this compound?"

"Yes."

"How many warriors will we have to face?"

"My followers will help, of course," Yu'shaa said. "They  will  create  a

nearby disturbance, which should draw war-riors to another part of the  palace

compound. And you have friends inside the damutek, of course."

"That's all well and good," Corran said, "but how many warriors  will  we

have to face?"

"My guess is all I can give you, but I suspect no less than ten.""And  as

many as?"

"If things go wrong? A few hundred."

"Ah," Corran said. "Then your people, the ones creating the distraction..

."

"Will likely be killed, yes. But they are willing to die."

"But I'm not willing to let them die," Corran said. "Not forme."

"They die for their own redemption, Jedi Horn, not for you. It is only if

our mission fails that they will have died in vain."

"Still, I-hang on."

Tahiri felt something in the Force, then, a flash of insight from Corran.

He was staring at the glowing plants they'd been discussing a moment ago.

"I think I have an idea," he said. Tahiri thought he  sounded  reluctant.

"It might buy us the edge we need, and get fewer of your people  hurt  in  the

process."

"The Jedi shall lead the way," the Prophet said. "Tell me your plan."

"I wish you wouldn't keep saying things like  that,"  Corran  said,  "but

here's what I'm thinking..."

TWELVE

When they emerged from the darkened tunnels and into the light of Supreme

Overlord Shimrra's palace, Tahiri's knees went momentarily weak at the  sight.

His command ship, an enormous winged sphere, was nested at the top of  it,  as

if the whole palace were a scepter, a symbol of might.

"Pretty impressive," even Corran admitted. "Nowwhat?" Yu'shaa  pointed  a

finger toward a much more modest, star-shaped complex.  "That  is  the  shaper

damutek," he said. "Wait here for a few moments. When our ruse begins, it will

be there." He pointed to a large, hexagonal building rather low to the ground,

with a roof of gabled mica. "It is an amphistaff breeding gla. The guards will

think my people are raiding for weapons."

Corran counted at least fifty warriors patrolling the vast plaza.

"Your people will be slaughtered."

"They will not fight for long. They will flee, and  your  brilliant  plan

will make certain that most of them are not followed."

Corran sighed. "I'm not so sure it's brilliant."

"They may escape," Yu'shaa said. "You have given  them  a  better  chance

than they had. If they do not, they will die with honor, something  more  than

Shimrra would ever allow them. They will die  knowing  they  have  blazed  the

trail to redemption."

Corran looked back at the damutek. "And we just go in the front door?"

Tahiri was staring at the damutek  as  well.  The  momen-tary  reflex  to

worship she'd had at the sight of Shimrra's palace was  gone,  replaced  by  a

cold feeling that lay on the borderlands of anger and  fear.  Bad  things  had

happened to her in such a place.

"Yes," she said. "We just go in through the front door."

"And where will we meet you?" Corran asked the Prophet.

"There is a shrine to Yun-Harla nearby. The shaper will know where it is.

If I survive, I will see you there."

"You haven't seen whether you survive or not?" Corran asked.

The Prophet smiled. "I am confident that I will."

"Well, good luck anyway," Corran said.

"Yes. May the Force be with you."

As the sounds of the Prophet's footsteps faded, Corran opened  his  mouth

to say something, and then stopped. He looked at Tahiri.

"Yes," Tahiri assured him. "That was weird for me, too."

Nom Anor continued grinning as he left the two Jedi.  While  nothing  was

certain, he did expect to survive the coming battle, because he did not intend

to be in it. His fol-lowers would fight, and they  would  die,  and  he  would

leave by the way he had come in and make his way to the shrine.  If  the  Jedi

and the shaper died as well, then he would vanish back underground and try  to

think of something new.

He wasn't particularly happy that Corran Horn had been  chosen  to  come.

While it looked good to his followers, for him it would be a continual danger.

Horn was not the sort to be lulled easily out of suspicion. If  he  discovered

the

"Prophet's" true identity, Nom Anor  suspected  that  the  appearance  of

present good intentions would not overshadow his actions against the  Jedi  in

the past.

Of course, Tahiri was a problem, too. Her knowledge of Yuuzhan Vong  ways

made her another potential threat. She'd seemed less than  entirely  convinced

by his explana-tion for the masquer.

He paused in the darkened tunnel, considering. Perhaps  he  shouldn't  go

through with this, after all.

But, no, he had to. Since Ngaaluh's death, Nom Anor's influence had begun

to wane. Shimrra was now extremely vigilant against spies at his  court,  even

at the highest levels. Sweeps of the lower levels had  increased,  and  Shamed

Ones removed farther from where they might do harm. Worse, while his following

hadn't dropped off, it hadn't grown, either, partly because too many  of  them

were getting killed without any apparent movement toward the ultimate goal  of

"redemption." The potential for an uprising that might catapult  Nom  Anor  to

power was farther away than it had ever been. He needed a new catalyst, a  new

source of strength. He needed, in short, new allies.

Still... He patted the pouch-creature fastened to the flesh  beneath  his

arm. It contained the one piece of his past as a respected executor. He wasn't

even sure why he'd risked bringing it, but... if he were to deliver two  Jedi,

a rogue shaper, and the planet Zonama Sekot into Shimrra's hands, it might  be

enough to...

No it wouldn't. Not if even a suspicion of his role as  Yu'shaa  were  to

enter Shimrra's mind.

No, he would have to work with what he  had.  It  was  far  too  late  to

flinch. Nor could he panic at the prospect of the trip he faced.

He did not, like his superstitious  followers,  believe  in  an  ordained

destiny-destiny was something created by sheer force of  will,  and  that  was

something he had in abundance. So he would play the role of compassionate holy

man for the Jedi. He would win them or they would die.

For Nom Anor, there could only be forward and upward, never back or down.

One moment nothing was  happening;  the  next  a  yellow-green  explosion

blossomed from the side of the building across the square and the  outer  wall

collapsed in sticky shards, as if it  had  melted.  Warriors  all  across  the

square raced for the source of the explosion, but before they could reach  it,

a mob of Shamed Ones sprang from a pit near the buildings and  fell  upon  the

warriors with coufees, am-phistaffs, batons, even pipes and rocks.

The fighting was confused by distance, but Tahiri could tell they weren't

faring very well, though they fought with absolute conviction,  some  impaling

themselves on the am-phistaffs of the warriors, immobilizing the weapons  long

enough for their companions to  drag  their  foes  down  by  sheer  weight  of

numbers. This distraction wouldn't last long. She tensed to run.

"Hang on," Corran said. "Wait until..."

Even as he spoke, new actors  appeared,  four  figures  in  brown  cloaks

bearing long glowing tubes of light. And everywhere went up the cry of

"Jeedai," from warriors and Shamed Ones at once.  But  their  tones  were

quite different. The Shamed Ones were exulting, while the warriors were crying

out in challenge and fury-and perhaps a little fear.  There  were  few  things

that could bring a warrior greater honor than bringing down a Jedi in  combat-

the warriors didn't worship them as the Shamed Ones did, but they had  learned

respect.

The "Jeedai" suddenly  turned  and  ran,  and  guards  went  after  them,

howling. Indeed, guards who had not already  left  their  posts  now  did  so.

Corran had called that one pretty well. If there was anything that could  make

a warrior forget every duty he had, this was it.

Of course, when it came to  their  superiors'  attention  that  they  had

abandoned their posts to chase Shamed Ones bearing the light-plants that  grew

below their feet, things would not go well for any of them.

"Now," Corran said.

Tahiri was already springing forward, now utterly focused on  the  single

guard who still remained at the front closure of the damutek.

To the guard's credit, he wasn't too distracted by the  fighting  to  see

them coming. Unfortunately, his attention did not do him much good against two

Jedi.

At the door, Tahiri put her hand against the membrane.

"Veka, Kwaad."

The opening dilated.

"That was easy," Corran said.

"It should be," Tahiri answered. "This damutek belongs to my domain."

"Master Yim," someone asked from the doorway.

She looked up from the series of kul embryos she'd been  vivisecting.  It

was Qelah Kwaad. "What is it?"

"There's some sort of disturbance in the outer com-pound. They say it  is

Shamed Ones."

"Disturbance? What are they doing?"

"They've attacked the amphistaff nursery."

"Trying to arm themselves, I suppose," Nen Yim replied.

"Go, secure the laboratories."

"Yes, Master Yim." The adept hurried off.

Well, she considered.

This must be it.

She straightened from her task and  moved  to  the  wall.  From  a  pouch

adhered to her belly, she withdrew a thorn-shaped creature with a  thin,  hard

shell, located a nerve cluster in the wall, and thrust it in. It hissed softly

as it began injecting toxin into the damutek. It  would  paralyze  the  living

structure's de-fenses, allowing whoever was coming after her to do so  without

having to deal  with  corridor-sealing  membranes  and  debilitating  gas.  Of

course, those defenses had not stopped the Jedi on Yavin, but this  needed  to

move quickly. The thorn tapiq would soon dissolve and leave no trace of itself

or its effect.

She grabbed an enveloping cloth surrounding a  set  of  se-lected  shaper

bioware and a qahsa and hurried up the cor-ridor toward the Sekotan ship.  She

was amazed at how calm she  felt.  Of  course,  she  still  hadn't  taken  any

irrevocable steps. She could counteract the effects  of  the  tapiq,  and  she

probably had the means at her disposal to stop the Jedi. But no. Zonama  Sekot

was a mystery she could not let lie. The planet called to her. She  would  go,

if she survived the next few moments.

The ship was as she had  seen  it  the  day  before,  shimmering  gently,

waiting for her. Excitement grew in her. She was step-ping  forward,  touching

it with her master's hand, when sev-eral figures  burst  through  the  doorway

into the room.

Two humans, and, by their  whipping,  burning  unlife  brands,  certainly

Jedi. They were engaged with eight war-riors. Both of the humans already  bore

several bloody gashes, but as she watched, two more Yuuzhan Vong warriors fell

from sizzling, cauterized wounds.

One of the remaining guards turned to face her.

"Master Yim, flee. There is danger here."

She knew him-Bhasu Ruuq, quiet for a warrior. She  thought  she'd  caught

him giving her admiring glances before.

"My apologies," she said. She extended her master's  hand,  and  a  long,

whiplike sting no thicker than a straw snaked out and impaled him through  the

eye. He died without a sound. She curled  her  hand,  and  the  sting  wrapped

around the neck of another warrior and bit through the arteries of  his  neck.

She released it, recalled it, and shot it back out to kill a third.

The Jedi cut down the last of their stunned opponents and  stood  panting

over corpses, staring at her.

The gaze of the yellow-haired one struck Nen Yim like a I thud bug, and a

jolt of recognition ran through her. Every - j thing  changed,  suddenly,  and

she realized her only triumph | was death.

"You," she said. "You've come to kill me."

Tahiri gave Nen Yim a cold grin.

"You think so?" she said. "Why  would  I  do  that?  Merely  because  you

tortured me, turned my brain inside out, tried to turn me against everything I

had ever known?"

"You two know each other, then," Corran speculated. Tahiri nodded grimly.

"She's one of the shapers who experimented on me. Her name is  Nen  Yim."  She

looked at the fallen warriors. "I see you've  got  a  new  hand.  Like  Mezhan

Kwaad's."

"Mezhan Kwaad was a master. Now I am."

"I should have known it was you," Tahiri said.  Rage  was  j  suddenly  a

whirlwind in her. "Watch her hand, Corran. She has..."

"I saw what she did to the warriors," Corran said. "If she thinks it will

work on me, she's welcome to try."

"She's mine, Corran," Tahiri growled. She stepped for-ward,  raising  her

weapon to guard between them. Turning*' to the  shaper,  she  continued,  "You

have no idea what you've put me through, Nen Yim. I nearly died. I nearly went

mad."!

"But you did not."

"I did not. Nor did I become what you were trying to! make of me."

"That was fairly clear when you decapitated  Mezhan  Kwaad,"  the  shaper

replied.

"Yes," Tahiri said. "That was a quick end for her. My  torture  lasted  a

lot longer."

The rage was blackening in her, a vua'sa nearing a  rival's  j  den.  She

watched for the slightest twitch of the shaper's hand, the smallest excuse to.

.. To what? Kill her? She took a deep, slow breath, and  lowered  her  weapon.

Her hand was trembling and her belly was tight.  She  willed  the  muscles  to

relax.

"We've come a long way through a lot of trouble for you,"  she  said.  "I

don't intend to kill you, not now. You're the reason we're here, aren't you?"

"I wish to see Zonama Sekot," the shaper said. "If you have come to  take

me there, then yes."

"We should talk about this later," Corran said.

"We will," Tahiri said. "We certainly will. After  we've  gotten  out  of

here but long before we reach Zonama Sekot. Do you understand me?"

"I understand you," Nen Yim replied. "But for now, if  we're  to  escape,

you must do as I say."

"Time's wasting," Corran said. "What do we do?"

"The warriors I killed. Use your weapons on them." Corran grinned  wryly.

"I thought so." He did as in-structed, cutting through the  wounds  that  were

already there, erasing any sign that they had been killed by a shaper's  hand.

Tahiri watched in disgust. A Yuuzhan Vong ought to own the violence she did.

"Next?"

"I need an opening in that wall, large  enough  for  this  ship  to  pass

through. I'm certain your infi-your weapons can accomplish it."

Tahiri nodded at Corran, and  together  they  moved  to  the  coral  wall

indicated and began carving chunks from it. While they were  still  less  than

half done, shouts went up be-hind them.

Before Corran could react, Tahiri spun and  charged  the  new  attackers.

There were three of them.

"Finish!" she cried. "I'll take these."

All three bore amphistaffs. She hurled herself at them as if committed to

a full-on charge, but at the last instant stopped  short.  As  a  result,  the

counterattack from the lead warrior was also short. She picked  up  the  rigid

end of his staff in a high bind and cut down through the juncture of neck  and

shoulder, sweeping her blade around to catch  a  second  attacker  in  a  high

parry. Then she dropped, instinc-tively ducking the slash from the third. Even

so, the second warrior recovered quickly and  wrapped  his  suddenly  flexible

staff around her ankle. Tahiri used the Force to leap away,  and  the  warrior

yanked her back, which was what she'd been planning. She went with  the  pull,

and both of her feet hit him in the face. He grunted and fell back, but didn't

re-lease the staff. As she fell, she reversed her weapon  and  let  the  third

warrior impale himself through the armpit. Black I  vapor  exploded  from  the

wound and the scent of burning blood sang in her nostrils.

She rolled to get back to her feet, but the remaining war-rior kicked her

in the side of the head.  The  blow  rang  in  her  skull,  and  white  lights

threatened to blot out her vision. She swung wildly,  but  failed  to  connect

with anything. Then everything went strange as something hard and  sharp  went

through her shoulder.

"Oh," she said. "Oh." Her arms were suddenly rubber.

The warrior grinned in triumph.

"No," she told him. "No, absolutely not."

She grabbed the amphistaff that had impaled her, but she barely felt  it.

She tried to focus beyond the pain, use the Force to throw herself  back,  but

all she saw was the snarling face of the warrior who was about  to  kill  her,

and all she felt was her body husking out, going light, fading...

She saw the warrior look away, and then suddenly  he  was  headless.  His

body dropped away almost gently.

Corran stood above her. "Come on," he said.

"Poison," Tahiri mumbled. She tried to stand, but her legs  were  already

beyond answering her demands.

She was vaguely aware that Corran got her up  on  his  shoulder  and  was

taking her toward the strange ship. After that, time condensed. She remembered

yelling, and concus-sions, and the ship shivering. New voices,  then  nothing.

Nen Yim settled in the pilot's couch and placed the  cogni-tion  hood  on  her

head. The ship hadn't come with one, but it had been an easy matter to implant

a Yuuzhan Vong matrix ganglia to  the  alien  but  relatively  straightforward

neural web. It ought to respond like any Yuuzhan Vong ship.

She hadn't been able to  regenerate  all  the  ship's  systems,  and  had

replaced them with specially bioengineered  equiva-lents.  She  had  installed

dovin basals in place of the abomi-nable  machine  drive;  she  wouldn't  have

known how to repair that even if she had wanted to. The  frame  she  could  do

nothing about, and she'd left many of the other bits of infidel technology  in

place because she either wasn't sure what they did or because it  was  unclear

whether the ship would function properly without them.

A flutter of tension moved through her as  she  melded  with  the  ship's

senses. The ship felt confused, uncertain, as if it was wondering-as she  was-

whether the repairs and modifications would work.  Her  experiments  suggested

they would, but of course she had never flown it.

We'll try this together, yes? she thought to the  ship,  and  received  a

tentative affirmation. Where were the Jedi?

She could not see them from the transparent cockpit, so she activated the

ship's exterior optical sensors and quickly located them. They seemed to  have

gotten into another fight, and the yellow-haired one was down,  wounded.  That

wasn't entirely bad, Nen Yim considered. Things might go more smoothly if  the

girl died.

A few moments later, the two were on board and Nen Yim dilated the  inner

and outer locks.

"Tahiri's hurt," the male Jedi called. "It's an amphistaff wound."

"Do what you can for her," she told him. "I can't help at the moment.  We

have to leave."

Hoping once again that the inelegant mixture of Sekotan and Yuuzhan  Vong

technology wouldn't fail her, she willed the ship to fly.

In a blur they were through the opening, though she felt it scrape  along

her skin on one side. No damage, though-the hull could shed  starstuff  for  a

time, so yorik coral was no real problem. She might even  have  been  able  to

break through the wall with the nose of the ship, but the Jedi  h  a  d,  been

there with their swords, so why not use them?

"We're meeting the Prophet at the shrine of Yun-Harla," | the  Jedi  told

her. She didn't like his tone of voice. It sounded as if he imagined  she  was

under his orders.

"I'm aware of that," she said, trying  to  remain  cab  J  when  all  her

instincts told her that she was far too high; above the ground, that  she  was

going to fall.

There was the shrine, the same one she'd met Harrar at I what seemed like

a very long time ago. The skies were still! eerily quiet,  as  if  Yuuzhan'tar

were asleep, as if they hadn't j just fled from  the  compound  of  the  Dread

Overlord himself.; Oddly, the quiet brought a sense of doom  that  she  hadn't

felt up until now.

She settled the ship down next  to  the  shrine  and  opened  the  hatch.

Outside, a breeze was blowing, thick with the  as-tringent  scent  of  blister

flowers. She was glad they'd bloomed before she left-she'd wondered what  they

would smell like. She noticed a movement from behind the shrine, and  saw  the

grotesque figure of a Shamed One coming toward her.

"This, then, must be the Prophet," she murmured. He  was  tall,  and  his

body looked well formed enough, save for, a lump beneath his left arm that was

probably a limpin im-plant gone bad. He wore a masquer that bore every  markot

the  Shamed  she  could  imagine,  as  if  he  had  cataloged  every  possible

disfigurement before having it made, as if he  was  determined  to  carry  the

burden of all the Shamed on his own neck.

It was both revolting and oddly intriguing. What  sort  of  Yuuzhan  Vong

would do such a thing? And why?

"I am Yu'shaa," he said as he boarded. His gaze fastened on her, intense,

nearly animal. This was no simpering Shamed One, no. This  was  an  altogether

different breed of the creature. He carried his marks with impossible dignity.

"lamNenYim."

"I am honored, Master," the Prophet replied. "You undertake a great task.

All went well?"

"Could have gone a bit more smoothly," Corran muttered.

"According to plan," Nen Yim said.

"Tahiri being stabbed was not in the plan," Corran said.

"The one-who-was-shaped is injured!" the Prophet exclaimed.

"A risk we all take," Nen Yim pointed out.

"She's dying!" Corran said. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

"I will heal her," Nen Yim said, "when I have the chance."

"You'll heal her..."

He stopped when someone else stepped into the ship.  He  yanked  out  his

infidel weapon and ignited it.

"No!" Nen Yim shouted. "This is Harrar, a priest. He's going with us."

The male Jedi crouched into a fighting stance. "No, I..."

A blast of plasma slammed into the ship-the skies were no  longer  quiet.

Cursing, Nen Yim realized she had disen-gaged from the long-range sensors.  As

she reengaged now, she saw a flier above them and ten more within  range.  She

closed the hatch and jolted the dovin basals to life. The ship jumped straight

up, slamming into the atmospheric flier.

The flier flipped over and smashed into the shrine, then  slid  into  the

water below, food for the p'hiili.

The other fliers quickly dwindled, but faster  ships  were  coming,  from

everywhere. She turned toward what she perceived to be the  most  open  space.

Far above, the rainbow bridge was a faint band in the sky, another  legacy  of

their con-quest of Yuuzhan'tar. They had shattered a moon to make it. She  saw

with some relief that  she  was  faster  than  the  pursuing  ships,  if  only

marginally so. Most Yuuzhan Vong space-craft had been designed  primarily  for

space,  and  were  clumsy  in  atmospheres.  The  Sekotan  ship  was  sleeker,

streamlined. Once they were in vacuum, it might be a different matter.

"Prepare for a darkspace jump," she called back.

"Bloody..." the male Jedi sputtered. "No... Not this close to the planet.

We're still in the atmosphere!"

"That's bad?" Nen Yim asked.

"Yes, that's bad. Have you even laid in a jump?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You've never flown?"

"No."

"Watch her," Corran told the Prophet, casting a glance at the  priest  as

he did so. This thing was going sourer every second. He moved quickly to stand

next to the shaper.

"Okay," he said, "let's-look, we'll make a short jump first-Borleias.  Do

you have a star chart in there, anything like that?"

She shook her head. "No," she said. "Or maybe. I'm not attuned enough  to

see it if there is one. But there are ships approaching."

"Any way to show me the ships?"

"Yes."

A nearby wall panel coruscated, revealing a surface that raised icons  to

represent ships and their movements.

"I can't tell how close they are, because I don't know the  scale  here,"

Corran said. "But I think you ought to bear aught-six-two-aught-aught-one."

"I don't know what that means."

"That way!" Corran pointed, feeling an entirely appro-priate deja vu.

"Do not order me."

"Look, I'm a pilot. You certainly aren't. Anyone knows a hyperspace  jump

this near a singularity is suicide."

She ignored the comment. "There are ships that way, too," she reported.

"Yeah, I see them. Does this thing have any guns?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Well-fly fast. And figure out how to plot a jump."

A coralskipper came up on their tail and started to fire. The  first  few

shots missed, but the next connected, and  the  ship  shuddered  slightly.  It

almost seemed to cry faintly, as if remembering its earlier trauma  from  such

weapons. That shook Corran a bit-was the ship sentient? And if so, why did  he

hear it when Nen Yim was the one under the cognition hood?

But then he understood. The ship existed in the Force.

He'd assumed from its obvious organic nature that this was a new model of

Yuuzhan Vong ship. Now he didn't know what it was.

The coralskipper unloaded again.

"Jink!" Corran said. "Jink!"

"I've no idea what you mean by that," Nen Yim said.

Corran felt like strangling something-possibly himself, for letting  such

a relatively simple mission get so far out of control. "Why can't any of these

stinking ships have normal controls?" he muttered.

"You mean controls of metal and plasteel?" the shaper asked.

"Yes. Yes!"

"It does,"  she  replied.  "This  ship  is  a  grafting  of  machine  and

biotechnology. The original controls were-I could not understand them."

A grafting of machine and bio - later. "You took them out?"

"No, they're beneath that screen, covered by a lamina. The sight of  them

offended me."

"Oh, I see," Corran said, as  he  staggered  toward  the  place  she  had

indicated. "You're completely insane. You've appointed yourself pilot,  you've

no idea what you're doing, and you don't mention to the only  qualified  pilot

that there are controls..." He ripped off the lamina,  revealing  an  entirely

familiar set of instruments.

"I can fly this," Corran grunted. "I can fly this!  Get  back  there  and

help Tahiri!"

"I don't..."

"...know what you're doing," he repeated. "We'll  all  be  killed,  here,

now, and you'll never see your mystery planet."

"Very well," Nen Yim said. She removed the  cognition  hood  and  started

back toward Tahiri.

"If she doesn't live," Corran called back to her, "the whole deal is off.

"

"Then she will live," Nen Yim shot back.

Corran threw the ship into a scissor-roll, dodging  a  fresh  barrage  of

plasma bursts. One scorched along the hull, and he  felt  the  ship's  cry  of

pain.

Then he felt the wound close, itch, and heal. Interesting.

The controls were on the old-fashioned side, but the ship itself  handled

like nothing he'd ever flown. And despite what Nen  Yim  had  said,  he  found

controls for lasers and-something else.

Well, let's see if they work.

He veered hard port and up, making the turn in half the time a ship  this

size ought to, and came in above one of  the  pursuing  skips.  Hopefully,  he

squeezed off a few shots.

The console said he had four forward lasers. Only  one  fired.  The  beam

scorched out-and was swallowed by the skip's void.

Corran wisped by the skip, feeling rather than seeing the  other  two  on

his tail, and then pulled up, hard, and grinned when the  fire  from  the  two

pursuing skips struck the one he'd just shot at.

"I guess they don't have their war coordinator on-line yet," he said.

"It's being jammed," Nen Yim's voice floated up from the back. "I've seen

to it."

Useful, this shaper. Annoying and incredibly dangerous, but useful.

"How is Tahiri?"

"I told you. She will live."

A wave of relief swept through him, and he turned his full attention back

to the problem at hand.

Ships were everywhere now, and not just in the direction he was  leaving,

and not all just skips. He began working out  a  jump,  but  not  knowing  the

engine capabilities made that tricky-he'd have to get  it  right,  not  almost

right. There wasn't going to be time...

"Hello," Corran murmured to himself. "What's that?"

The silhouette looked familiar, but he couldn't be  sure.  It  might  not

even still be functioning, but at the moment it was his only hope. He  changed

course toward the object. A skip whirled in from  below  starboard,  and  from

sheer curiosity, he tried the other  weapon  the  ship  seemed  to  have,  but

nothing happened. The skip, on a wrong vector to keep up with him, missed  its

own shot and went on, banking to come after him but losing kilometers  in  the

process.

"Fine," he muttered. Obviously, whatever the weapon was, it didn't work.

Six or seven skips were going to have a shot at him in  about  a  minute,

but the satellite he'd seen at long range was pretty close  now.  Basically  a

five-meter-diameter  sphere  bristling  with  knoblike  protrusions,  it  hung

quietly in its orbit.

As Tahiri had said earlier, there must have been millions or billions  of

satellites around Coruscant when the Yuu-zhan Vong took it.  The  new  tenants

had been working to clear them out, but that was a huge job. Some  had  fallen

of their own accord, but some...

He fired his single laser at the sphere, and whooped when the blue  sheen

of a shield went up.

Laser light was suddenly everywhere as the sphere began  i  to  whirl  in

complex maneuvers, firing at every ship it saw. I Corran ignored  those  shots

directed at him and just punched i the drive as hard as it would go, which was

hard.

The skips I went wild, spinning around the satellite, firing at it.  Only

one or two recovered from the  surprise  quickly  enough  to  follow  his  new

vector, and by the time they were even thinking about catching him  he'd  laid

in his calculations and was watching the stars sleet away.

"Whew," he said, finally able to relax.

"What was that, some sort of war machine?"

With a start, Corran realized the Prophet was standing just next to him.

"No," he said. "It's a training device for star pilots. Once fired on, it

goes into offensive mode. Of course, the lasers are so weak they can't do  any

damage, so most of the power  goes  to  its  shields.  But  with  their  voids

gobbling the first few shots, the Yuuzhan Vong pilots would take  a  while  to

figure that out."

"Clever," the Prophet said.

"Thank you," Corran said. "Now I want to see Tahiri."

Tahiri came to with Nen Yim bending over her.

"She will be weak," she was telling someone. "Perhaps for some time.  The

arm might be useless. It is too soon to say."

"Corran?" Tahiri mumbled. She turned to  see  him.  But  Nen  Yim  wasn't

talking to Corran. She was talking to a  Yuuzhan  Vong,  a  thin  man  with  a

headwrap. A priest! Tahiri reached for her  lightsaber,  but  didn't  find  it

there.

"Corran!" she shouted.

"I'm here," the familiar voice said. "Calm down.  We  seem  to  be  among

friends." He didn't sound convinced.

"Who are you?" Tahiri asked the priest.

"lamHarrar."

"Another of our merry band of pilgrims," Corran grunted.

"The shapers and the Shamed are not the only ones  with  curiosity  about

this new world," the priest explained. "I arranged to meet Nen Yim at the same

place as the Prophet."

"Then you embrace our heresy?" the Prophet asked.

"I embrace nothing," Harrar replied. "I reject nothing. But  Shimrra  has

gone to great lengths to keep this planet from our knowledge. I want  to  know

why."

"Where are we?" Tahiri asked.

"Hyperspace," Corran replied. "You missed our exciting exit. This  really

is some ship."

Tahiri was taking in the rest of their surroundings, now. Like a  Yuuzhan

Vong vessel, Nen Yim's vessel looked grown, organic. In no other  way  did  it

resemble a yorik coral craft.

"What sort of ship is this? " she asked.

"The ship is from Zonama Sekot," the  Prophet  re-plied.  "It  was  badly

damaged. The shaper healed it. It is good-we arrive at Zonama Sekot  returning

one of its own."

Tahiri was about to ask more, but Corran spoke up.

"Oh, yes, that," he said. "We're not going to Zonama Sekot."

THIRTEEN

All eyes turned to Corran.

Yu'shaa was the first to speak. "Blessed One, what can  you  mean?  After

all we've done? My followers died so that we might make this voyage. They  put

their faith in you." "And I put my faith in your words,  Yu'shaa-your  promise

that this voyage would include you and you alone. Now we have a shaper  and  a

priest, and I don't know anything about either of them."

"I explained about the shaper," the prophet said. "I knew  nothing  about

the priest."

"Consider," Harrar interposed. "Nen Yim and I risk far  more  than  this-

Prophet. He is already hunted, already condemned. He has  little  to  risk  on

this journey and every-thing to gain. I, on the other hand, am a powerful  and

hon-ored priest. Not only have I consorted with Jeedai, but I also seek Zonama

Sekot, a planet absolutely taboo to us. If Shimrra learns of this, I  will  be

dispatched without honor."

Corran nodded. "Probably.  Unless  Shimrra  himself  planned  this  whole

fiasco."

"I assure you, he would never do such a thing," Harrar replied.

"But I've only your word for that, and we  are,  you  know,  on  opposite

sides of a war."

Not too diplomatic, Corran.

He started again. "Look, you three aren't the only ones who think  Zonama

Sekot is important. There are already tea Jedi  there,  negotiating  with  it.

Your people have attacked the planet at least once. Bringing one of you there-

especially one seeking peace-that was one thing.  Bringing  three  of  you  is

another matter."

"Contact these other Jeedai," the Prophet urged. "Discuss it  with  them.

Surely they will agree that if peace is to be achieved,  the  initiative  must

come from both the Jeedai and the Yuuzhan Vong."

"He's right," Tahiri said.

Corran shot her a hard look. "I'd like to speak to Tahiri alone," he told

the others.

"Of course," Harrar said. The others didn't say anything, but they stayed

where they were as Corran escorted Tahiri to what was appeared to be some sort

of common area.

"Corran..." she began, but he cut her off.

"No," he snapped. "Listen. We're  outnumbered  here.  I  can't  have  you

disagreeing with me in front of them."

"Then maybe you should stop making decisions without consulting me. We're

a team, remember? "

"And I'm by far the senior member of the team. If you  want  to  disagree

with me, fine. But do it in private. We can't have them thinking you and I are

divided. And in the end, I certainly hold the power of veto, because  I'm  the

only one who knows where Zonama Sekot is."

"Contact Kenth. See what  he  thinks.  Or  better  yet,  talk  to  Master

Skywalker."

"Well,  it  seems  Sekotan  ships  don't  come  equipped   with   HoloNet

transceivers," Corran replied. "If they did, I would do just that."

"We could go to Mon Calamari, get a decision from the council."

Corran lowered his voice. "That's where I'm  going  to  tell  them  we're

going."

"But we aren't? Where are we actually going?"

"Zonama Sekot."

"What? But you said..."

"I lied. I wanted to see what their reaction would be."

"And?"

"I can't tell yet. Let's give it a few days, see what shakes out."

"That's dangerous," she said. "I'm pretty weak. If it comes to a fight...

"

"If it comes to that, I'll deal with it," Corran said, grimly.

"What does that mean?"

"Sorry. The old man has to have some secrets. But if this goes sour, none

of us will  make  it  to  Zonama  Sekot.  Orders  from  headquarters.  Do  you

understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Tahiri replied. "I understand you perfectly."

"Good. Now, did you notice anything a minute ago? Any  reaction  I  might

have missed?"

"I doubt it. But I don't like the priest."

"Why?"

"Nen Yim and the Prophet are both  heretics.  I  can't  imagine  a  high-

ranking priest cooperating with either of them."

"If a high-ranking shaper can be a heretic, why not a priest?"

"I suppose it's possible," she said. She sounded dubious.

"If you suspect him, why did you think we ought to continue the mission?"

"Because it's important. I think Nen Yim  and  the  Prophet  are  on  the

level. We have the priest outnumbered, and I don't think  he'll  try  anything

until we reach the planet-whatever else he has  planned,  he  wants  to  reach

Zonama Sekot as much as the rest of us."

"Could he have some sort of tracer on him?"

"Maybe. That would be bad."

Corran considered that for a moment.

"Rest," he said. "Keep your eyes and ears open. We've got time  to  think

about this. It's a long trip."

Tahiri found Nen Yim at the helm of the ship gazing out at the stars. She

stood there for a moment, trying to control her feelings.

But she needed to talk to the shaper.

"Jeedai," the shaper said, without turning.

"Master Yim." She said it in Yuuzhan Vong.

"So some of our implants did take."

Anger flared again, but Tahiri fought it down. "Yes," she said. "I am  no

longer human and I am not Yuuzhan Vong. Congratulations."

"Congratulate my late master, not me."

"So you take no blame for me?" "Blame? What blame is there? Mezhan  Kwaad

was a shaper. She shaped you. Had I been in charge of  the  project,  I  would

feel no remorse for what you've become."

"Right," Tahiri said. "No remorse. No pain. No passion.  There's  nothing

in you, is there, Nen Yim? Except maybe curiosity and duty."

"Duty?" Nen Yim murmured, still staring out at space.

"Do you know when the last time I gazed on stars like this was?"

"Should I care?"

"It was on the worldship Baanu Miir, one of the older ones. Its brain was

failing, and an involuntary muscle spasm ripped one of the arms open. I  stood

in the vacuum staring at the naked stars, and I swore that no matter  what,  I

would save that worldship and the people on it. I practiced heresy to  do  so,

and still I failed. Even yet, the people might have  lived,  if  your  infidel

friends hadn't obliterated the new worldship we were meant to move to."

Now she did turn to Tahiri, and despite her calm tones, her eyes  blazed.

"I have risked my life, and I have taken life and shaped terrible  things  for

my people so that we never have to live in the abyss between galaxies again. I

have risked even more to see the secrets encoded in this  universe  around  us

and solve their riddles. Perhaps you do not call this passion. But  hatred,  I

think, might fairly be called  that.  You,  Jeedai,  slew  my  mentor.  Jeedai

destroyed the new worldship  and  doomed  thousands  to  miserable,  honorless

deaths. I have hated Jeedai."

"And you hate them still?"

"I have stepped back from my hate. My heresy requires that I  see  things

as they are, not as I wish them to be, not as I fear them to be. The riddle of

Zonama Sekot may well be the central question of Yuuzhan Vong  existence,  and

the Jeedai seem to be involved. Since I must  place  the  good  of  my  people

before my own whimsy, I must  remain  open  to  all  possibilities,  even  the

possibility that the creed of this ridiculous Prophet has salience."

"And what about me personally?"

"You?" She shrugged. "Mezhan Kwaad sealed her own doom. She practiced her

heresy too openly, almost flaunted it.  Worse,  she  ruined  a  noble  warrior

merely because she feared he would disclose their illicit affair. That brought

about her downfall. You were the instrument of her death, and that  again  was

rooted in her failure-had her shaping of you been competent, you  could  never

have turned on her. I hated you for a time. I find now I do  not.  You  hardly

knew what you were doing."

"Oh, yes I did," Tahiri said, recalling the  crystallized  fury  of  that

moment. "I remember it very well.  I  could  have  dis-abled  her  instead  of

killing her. But after the pain she put me through, that  you  helped  put  me

through-"

"And so you hate me?"

That's a good question,

Tahiri mused. "In the Jedi view," she told the shaper,  "hate  is  to  be

avoided. If there is hatred in me for you-and there may be yet-I do  not  want

it. The Yuuzhan Vong have  taken  much  from  me-my  childhood,  my  identity,

someone I loved. But I am as much a part of you now as I  am  native  to  this

galaxy. I have reconciled my different natures. Now I want to  help  see  that

reconciliation between my parent peoples."

"You seek an end to the war?"

"Of course."

Nen Yim nodded. "I do not see the same honor in pointless  slaughter  the

warriors do, I must admit. Pursuit of it has bred stupidity. We have taken far

more worlds than we need, and probably more than we  can  defend.  Shimrra,  I

sometimes think, is mad." She  cocked  her  head,  and  the  tendrils  of  her

headdress did an odd, squirming dance and settled in a new  arrangement.  "How

are your wounds?"

"Better, thanks to you," Tahiri admitted.

"It was simple enough. You responded well  to  the  antitoxin."  Nen  Yim

shifted her gaze back to the stars. "You must convince the other Jeedai to  go

to Zonama Sekot. If what you said about your goals is true, you must help me."

"I can't," Tahiri said. "I agree with him. Even if I could trust you, and

the Prophet, there is also the priest to con-sider. Why did he come?"

"I think his reasons are compound. He is a highly placed  member  of  his

caste. Heresy is a great danger to that caste, and here he has the opportunity

to study not merely two heretics of two varieties, but  also  the  leaders  of

their respec-tive movements. He would understand his enemy.  Yet  he  is  also

jealous of the secret of Zonama Sekot, and perhaps truly angry at Shimrra  for

concealing the knowledge of it. When we know Zonama Sekot's secrets,  however,

I cannot say what he will do. Turn on us as well  as  Shimrra,  probably,  and

reinforce the power of his priesthood. If Zonama Sekot is truly of consequence

to our future, castes will battle for control of it, both ideologically and in

fact."

"All that to say you don't trust him."

"I think that no matter the outcome of  this  expedition,  he  plans  our

deaths."

"Then why did you bring him along?" Tahiri exploded.

"To learn what I can from him. There are other factions among our people,

you know. Shimrra  has  detractors  in  other  quarters-the  Quorealists,  for

instance, who sup-ported the predecessor he slew to attain power.  It  may  be

Harrar is one. Certainly he knows about them. Also, I want to keep him where I

can see him. He is less dangerous to me that way."

"Weil, we agree on that," Tahiri said. "I don't trust him, either."

"We'll keep an eye on him together, then."

It was a  transparent  ploy,  but  Tahiri  felt  a  sudden,  invol-untary

affinity for the shaper.

That's stupid. It's what she wants me to feel.

But they were of the same domain, and  domain  loyalties  ran  deep,  far

deeper than simple like or dislike. Was this why Corran didn't trust her? Move

on to something else.

"Is there any way of knowing if Harrar has a tracer or  villip  implanted

in him?"

"It would have to be a very unusual one to be a danger to  us,"  Nen  Yim

replied.

"Why?"

"Because I have released a virus that attacks and swiftly kills all known

variants of such organisms. If anyone on this vessel has such an  implant,  we

can expect them to be briefly ill as the waste products  flush  through  their

system."

"I'll watch for that, then," Tahiri said, and left  the  helm,  confused.

Anger brought certainty, and with it gone, she didn't know what she felt.

Nen Yim turned her eyes back toward the stars.

Perhaps that will persuade her, she thought. Perhaps now she can convince

the older Jeedai to resume the voyage to Zonama Sekot. After all, it was true.

She did not want Shimrra's minions following her to Zonama Sekot, and she  had

taken measures to prevent it.

But the older Jedi was suspicious of her, of all of them. Well he  should

be. The Prophet's simple belief that Zonama Sekot was  the  salvation  of  the

Shamed Ones and thus the Yuuzhan Vong was not her own. Zonama  Sekot  was  the

greatest single threat her people had ever faced, she was sure of it.  If  her

investigations bore that out, she would take matters into her own hands.

Despite its organic origins, the Sekotan ship was laid  out  along  lines

more similar to the metal-and-plasteel ships Tahiri had known than to  Yuuzhan

Vong vessels. Behind the cockpit was a crew cabin comfortably large enough for

six or seven people, and six somewhat more  cramped  sleep-ing  cells.  Behind

that was a spacious storage area that looked more Yuuzhan Vong  in  design-Nen

Yim had had room to spare when she took out the old hyperdrive. It was  filled

with things that Tahiri remembered from the shaper laboratory on Yavin 4.  She

looked in only once.

Whatever the original crew of the ship had eaten  had  been  replaced  by

muur, a Yuuzhan Vong yeast-based staple. She and Corran settled down to a meal

of it around a table that extruded from the floor, sprouting like  a  mushroom

when a discolored place on the wall was stroked.

None of the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to be in earshot-the Prophet was  nowhere

to be seen, and Nen Yim was back in her makeshift laboratory, as was Harrar.

"Four days, and no one has shown any symptoms," Corran said. "Of  course,

that could mean several things. Ei-ther no one had implants, or  the  implants

weren't affected by the virus, or there never was any virus."

"Well, that's what everything boils down to when you don't trust anyone,"

Tahiri pointed out. "We just don't know."

"You  like  this  stuff?"  Corran  grunted,  reluctantly  taking  another

mouthful.

"No one likes it," Tahiri said. "Yuuzhan Vong don't  eat  for  enjoyment.

Unless it's to make a statement, you know, eating the flesh of the vua'sa  you

killed in ritual combat or whatever."

"Still not exactly pleasure. Relish maybe."

"Right," she said, taking another bite. She knew he was trying to make  a

joke, but she didn't feel like laughing. Corran was hard to read  these  days,

as if he was making an effort not to let her see too much of him in the Force.

They both turned at a soft sound in the doorway. Harrar stood there.

"I hope I'm not intruding," the priest said.

"Not at all," Corran said. "Can I help you?"  The  priest  nodded.  "It's

been four days. May I ask when we reach Mon Calamari?"

Tahiri shot Corran a glance.

Four days, she sent in the Force. No sign of betrayal. He  didn't  answer

in the same way, but pursed his lips and nodded.  "Where's  the  Prophet?"  he

asked.

"Locked in his cabin-praying, presumably," the priest replied.

"Okay," Corran said. "Let's get everyone together. I-And  then  the  ship

screamed.

FOURTEEN

Qelah Kwaad abased herself before the  polyp  throne  as  the  rumble  of

Shimrra's voice washed over her. She cringed and was ashamed.

"Rise, Adept Kwaad," Shimrra said.

Knees shaking, she did so. "Dread Lord," she said. "How can I please you?

"

"You already have. The mabugat kan were of your shaping, were they not?"

"They were, Lord Shimrra," she said.

"Master Yim brought them to my attention. She said you were the brightest

of her pupils."

"She did?" Qelah was surprised. She had always  thought  Master  Yim  was

jealous of her.

"We have used them with great  success.  The  infidels  are  now  largely

without long-range communications. It has been an invaluable aid  to  our  war

effort."

"Thank you, Lord. I am pleased to have been of service."

"Of course you are," Shimrra growled reproachfully, and his Shamed jester

capered gleefully.

She felt like cowering back into a crouch, but the Dread Lord had bid her

stand, so she stood her ground.

"The loss of Master Yim was a great blow," Shimrra went on. "But her work

must continue. You will be elevated to master."

Qelah hoped her fierce exultation did not show.

"I am not worthy of the honor, Great Lord, but  I  will  do  my  best  to

excel." She knew she was babbling, but she couldn't stop. "I have developed  a

new sort of ship, one that should counter many of the new  strategies  of  the

infi-dels. And as for the Jeedai..."

"What of the Jeedai?"

The words came out with such force that her tendrils felt as if they were

being swept back, but this time she was not dismayed.

"I believe I have an answer to them," she said.

"Besides the mabugat kan,  I  have  for  some  time  been  de-veloping  a

powerful new suite of bioforms designed specifi-cally to counter the threat of

the Jeedai. I am not far from completion."

"That has been promised before," Shimrra said. "But the promise has never

been fulfilled. Those who fail me do not find favor."

She understood that lack of favor also meant  lack  of  breath,  but  she

plunged on. "I am certain you will be pleased, Dread Lord," she told him.

"Very well. You will ascend to master tomorrow. You  will  work  directly

beneath Ahsi Yim."

Qelah took a deep breath. She had a chance at more. Could she flinch from

taking it?

No.

"Yes, Lord," she said. "A member of Nen Yim's domain."

Shimrra's mqaaq'it eyes flared a brighter red. "What could  you  mean  by

that, Qelah Kwaad? Do you imply something?"

"Nothing, Lord," she said. "I spoke out of turn."

"I hear something in your words, Qelah Kwaad," Shimrra said, dangerously.

"Shall I rip open your mind and see what I find there?"

"It is only that things have been strange," she said, in a rush.  "Master

Yim stayed apart from us, working alone.

She was totally absorbed in some new project none of the rest of us  knew

about. And then the Jeedai came, and took her away, and  whatever  it  was,  I

know not what, but Ahsi Yim..." She broke off.

"Go on," Shimrra breathed.

"Ahsi Yim-did not seem surprised. And I heard her tell someone, They took

the ship."

In fact, Ahsi Yim had seemed as surprised as anyone, and she had said  no

such thing. It was actually a warrior who had told her  he'd  seen  a  strange

ship fly out from the damutek. By now, everyone knew it.

"You think Ahsi Yim had some part in Nen Yim's  kidnapping."  She  lifted

her head and spoke more boldly. "If it was a  kidnapping,  Lord  Shimrra.  The

damutek's defenses failed. I do not see how infidels could accomplish this."

"The Shamed heretics were also involved," the  Supreme  Overlord  pointed

out.

"With respect, Lord-would they know how to disable a  damutek's  defenses

and leave no trace of how it was done? I could not  do  so.  Was  some  shaper

greater than Nen Yim Shamed, that this knowledge would reside with the rabble?

"

Shimrra somehow seemed to tower even higher, filling the room, the world,

the universe.

"What do you know?" he thundered,  and  she  suddenly  realized  she  had

somehow misstepped. "What do you know of the stop?"

A great invisible claw seemed to clamp about her head, its  grip  growing

swiftly tighter. She felt the joints of  her  body  twitching  strangely.  Her

nerves turned to fire, and she sought something, anything to say, and anything

that would turn his gaze away from her. If he had asked her at that moment  if

she was lying, she would have  admitted  it,  admitted  that  her  words  were

nothing more than thud bugs cast toward Ahsi Yim, so that Qelah Kwaad might be

master shaper.

But he hadn't asked that. He'd asked about the ship.

"Nothing more than that it exists!" she moaned.

"Nen Yim told you nothing of its origins or nature?"

"Nothing, Dread Lord," she gasped, swaying. "She stayed to  herself!  She

did not speak of it!"

The pressure suddenly dropped away. The pain recoiled  itself  back  into

her brain.

"Your ambition is clear," Shimrra murmured. "But  you  raise  interesting

points. They bear investigation." He glanced at Onimi. Then he looked  off  at

some unseen thing above her.

"Go," he commanded. "Return tomorrow and learn your fate."

She left. When she returned the next day, she was again directed to  take

up her master's hand, and she never saw Ahsi Yim again.

FIFTEEN

The ship's scream was a distant thing somewhere in the back  of  Corran's

mind. The thudding jolt of sudden hyper-drive decantation was more immediately

tactile.

"What the..." He leapt up and stumbled toward the helm.

"Are we under attack?" Harrar asked.

By that time, Corran could see stars through the trans-parent canopy.  "I

don't know," he said. "But given my luck so far on this trip, I wouldn't doubt

it."

"This region isn't charted,"  Tahiri  said.  "Maybe  we  hit  a  gravitic

anomaly."

Corran bit back a reprimand for telling that much, but  decided  to  take

his own advice and not dress the young woman down  in  front  of  the  Yuuzhan

Vong. "We're in charted space," he said, instead. Which was true, barely.

"Then what could it be? "

"Dovin basal interdictor mine, maybe. The Yuuzhan Vong have them  set  up

all along the major routes to pull ships out of hyperspace."

"Right. Millennium Falcon got pulled out by one on  the  Corellian  Trade

Spine."

"Yep. Let's hope we have an easier time of-oh,  Sith  spawn."  He'd  been

rolling the ship to try to discover the cause of their sudden  reversion.  Now

he saw it.

It wasn't what he was expecting.

He was staring down the pointy end of a  white  wedge  larger  than  many

planetbound cities, and he suddenly felt much younger, not in a good way.

"That's an interdictor, all right," he said. "An Imperial interdictor."

"I suppose there's  something  to  be  said  for  not  jumping  to  hasty

conclusions," Harrar put in, a bit sarcastically.

"No apologies," Corran said. "It was still a good bet. This, on the other

hand..."

"But aren't they our friends now?" Tahiri asked.

Corran snorted. "Friends? No. Allies, yes." He  pushed  the  engines  and

went into a series of extemporaneous maneuvers as  salvos  of  coherent  green

light flashed around them.

"Either way, should they be firing at us?"

"No, and maybe they wouldn't be if we weren't in something much more like

a Yuuzhan Vong ship than anything else they've seen. Or if we could hail  them

and tell them who we are, but I don't see a comm in  this  thing,  unless  our

shaper friend has hidden it like she did the rest of the con-trols. As it  is,

we'd better put a little distance between us and that thing."

"What's it doing way out here?"

"I'm not even sure where 'here' is," Corran grumbled,  "but  I've  got  a

good idea why they're here."

"Why?"

"Can't say. Top secret."

Kenth might have told me a bit more about the war plans.  I  should  have

figured the push would be in this sector. Bil-bringi, maybe? That  Interdictor

must be part of the Imperial force. But why is it  alone?  Watching  the  back

door? Didn't matter. They couldn't talk to it and they sure couldn't fight it,

so their only choice was to run like crazy.

"What is wrong?" Nen Yim appeared from aft.

"We've just been yanked out of hyperspace  by  the  Impe-rials."  Such  a

familiar thing to say, he reflected. Almost  comfortable.  What  a  ridiculous

thought. Was he actually nostalgic for the war against the Empire?

"The Imperials?" Nen Yim said. "I'm no tactician, but aren't they.... ah.

They think this is a Yuuzhan Vong ship."

"The lady takes the hand," Corran said. A laser seared along the vessel's

side, and he fought for control.

"Jump to hyperspace," Nen Yim said. "I see no nearby planets."

"I can't. It's an interdictor-it'll pull us right out again and  probably

fry the engines as well."

"Not necessarily," Nen Yim said.

"No, interdictors work just  fine  on  Yuuzhan  Vong  hyper-drives.  It's

simple physics."

"Yes, but-" She suddenly stopped.

"What?" Corran shouted back over his shoulder. "I seem  to  remember  you

were going to jump from the bottom of  a  gravity  well.  But  if  you've  got

something, let me know."

"You must give me your promise of secrecy," the shaper said,  her  spooky

hair doing particularly spooky things.

"I can't do that." Corran sighed. "Not if you've got something  that  can

be used against us."

"I certainly cannot divulge war  secrets  to  you  without  your  vow  of

secrecy," Nen Yim said.

"Why not? Aren't we trying to end this war? Isn't that what this  mission

is about?"

The ship shuddered and bucked as laser fire hammered its hull.

"The war isn't over yet," the shaper reminded him.

"Master Yim," Harrar interjected. "If we die, and our mission fails..."

"What mission?" Nen Yim snapped. "He won't take us to Zonama Sekot.  He's

taking us to Mon Calamari, probably to be imprisoned. I would rather die here,

especially if it prevents placing yet  another  weapon  against  us  in  their

hands."

"We are going to Zonama Sekot," Corran shouted. "We're on our  way  there

right now. But it's going to be a  mighty  short  trip  if  something  doesn't

change soon."

Nen Yim's brows lowered dangerously. "Is this true?"

Harrar gripped the shaper's arm. "I do not fear death any more  than  you

do, Nen Yim. But if you would see this planet..."

"It is untested," she said. "A variant of a shaping one of my apprentices

developed. I created it to use against  any  Yuuzhan  Vong  ships  that  might

follow us, but now I see it might be used against one of your interdictors."

"Well, let's find out!" Corran said. "Because in about ten seconds..."

Nen Yim nodded and slipped on her cognition hood.

A moment later Corran felt something pass  through  the  ship  and  then-

release.

"What did we just do?"

Nen Yim actually smiled. "If this works, the artificial gravitic  anomaly

should vanish in a moment. I suggest when the moment arrives, you take us into

hyperspace."

"Tahiri, lay in a microjump," Corran said.

The young woman nodded and bent to the task.

A laser tore through the cabin behind them, a  direct  hit  that  pierced

both hulls. Air screamed away into vacuum, and Corran felt as if he had a  hot

wire through his gut. He could only imagine what a pilot truly attuned to  the

ship would feel.

Then the wound healed, and the air stopped getting thinner.  Neat  trick,

that. But he wondered what the ship's healing limits were.

And got an answer, of sorts, from the ship itself. Another hit like  that

would be too much.

"We're no longer being held," Tahiri said.

"Life is good," Corran replied, and  punched  them  to  where  the  stars

didn't shine.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what  that  thing  was?"  Corran

asked, as his pulse began to slow to some-thing approaching normal.

"I don't suppose so, no," Nen Yim replied. "But its field test  seems  to

have gone quite well."

"Yes, congratulations," Corran said. How long before you use  it  against

us? Well, at least he knew it existed, whatever it was,  and  unless  she  was

lying it was a prototype, not likely being used at this  very  moment  against

the Galactic Alliance.

"This is making my head spin," he muttered.

"What?" Nen Yim inquired.

"Nothing."

"Not to interrupt," Harrar said, "but I'm  wondering  if  what  you  said

about our destination is true?"

Corran turned and noticed that the Prophet had joined them.

"Yes," he said. "It's been our destination from the very first."

"You deceived us," Nen Yim accused. "Why?"

The Prophet drew himself to his full height and crossed his arms. "To see

how we would react," he said. "If we had tried to force the  location  of  the

planet from him, then he would have known we were not to be  trusted,  and  we

would never have finished the trip." He looked  pointedly  at  Corran.  "Isn't

that correct, Jeedai Horn?"

"That about sums it up," Corran replied. "That's a pretty savvy  analysis

for a holy man."

"Understanding is the essence of enlightenment."

And also the basis of espionage, Corran added  to  himself.  wonder  what

your job used to be before you were a Prophet.

Maybe Tahiri could tell from-something. He made a mental note to ask  her

later.

"How far, then, are we from our destination?" Harrar asked.

"I'm not certain, because we have to proceed in small | jumps for a time.

Probably a few days."

The next jump brought them to the fringes of an un-named star system. The

primary appeared as a tiny blue I sphere, but around it sparkled a  vast  ring

that shone as if it were made of a few hundred trillion corusca  gems.  Tahiri

watched in fascination.  Sometimes  it  seemed  cloudlike,  some-times  almost

liquid.

"You must have seen many such wonders," Nen Yim said.  Tahiri  had  heard

the shaper's approach, but hadn't turned. "Doesn't matter," she  said.  "Every

star system is unique. Every star system has its own beauty."

"This one certainly has. Is that ice?"

"I would imagine," Tahiri said. "I wasn't trying to figure it  out-I  was

just enjoying the sight of it."

"Perhaps the system is poor in heavy  elements.  The  original  torus  of

matter condensed into ice balls, which were then torn apart by tidal forces."

"Maybe a wandering giant made it as a wedding gift fora  nebula,"  Tahiri

said.

"Why should you assert such a ridiculous explanation?" The shaper  seemed

truly puzzled.

"Why must you pick everything apart?" Tahiri asked.

"Besides, if you believe Yun-Yuuzhan made the universe from  his  severed

body parts, you ought to be able to believe anything."

Nen Yim was silent for a moment and Tahiri thought the  conversation  was

probably over.

"Belief is a strange thing," the shaper said at  last.  "It  has  immense

inertia. My master did not believe in the gods at all."

"And you?"

The shaper's headdress tendrils knotted thoughtfully.

"Religion, I think, is metaphor, a way of relating to the uni-verse  that

does not require reason. It's not very different  from  your  appreciation  of

this star system for its mere ap-pearance.  My  joy  comes  in  understanding.

You're right-if I could take the universe apart and put it  back  together,  I

would."

"And thus rob yourself of half the wonder," Tahiri said. Nen Yim  snorted

disdainfully. "Wonder is you making up stories about giants and wedding gifts,

" she said. "Wonder is my people attributing the creation of the  universe  to

an act of dismemberment. It is avoiding true mystery through fantasy.  And  if

the universe refuses to  conform  to  your  fan-tasy,  does  it  cease  to  be

wonderful? That is a conceit of the highest order."

"Your own explanation was no better than a guess."

"True. But it is a guess that can be investigated and  tested.  It  is  a

guess I will gladly relinquish if proven wrong. It is a guess that will  serve

as a tool to help me find the truth. For me, that is a far greater wonder than

anything taken on faith."

"So you don't believe in the gods?" Tahiri asked.

"I think there must be something behind them that is real. I do not think

they are real in the orthodox sense."

"That's interesting. What do you think they are?"

"I've no idea. I don't have even a guess to use as a starting point."

"How about this?" Tahiri mused. "Here's a guess for you.  Your  gods  are

actually a misunderstanding of the Force."

"The energy field you Jeedai claim  informs  your  powers?"  She  sounded

dubious.

"You don't believe in the Force?"

"In the sense that it's clear you draw on some sort of energy to  perform

your tricks, as your machines draw on a power source, yes. That does not  mean

it is some all-pervasive mys-tical energy with a  will  of  its  own,  as  you

Jeedai seem to believe. Indeed, if it is, how can you explain  the  fact  that

the Yuuzhan Vong do not exist in the Force?"

"Well, that's a mystery," Tahiri  said.  "But  the  Force  isn't  like  a

battery. It's a lot bigger than that."

"So you believe. If  so,  perhaps  your  Force  and  our  gods  are  both

misunderstandings of something that somehow encompasses us all."

Tahiri felt a little chill. That was what Anakin had be-lieved,  or  very

near.

"You believe that?" she asked.

"Certainly not," the shaper replied. "But... thank you."

"For what?"

"At least I have a guess to proceed from, for now."  She  glanced  about.

"Where is Corran Horn?"

"He's taking a break before the next jump to  hyperspace.  What  did  you

need to see him about?"

"I don't want to raise any undue alarm, but I think some-thing  is  wrong

with the ship."

"Wrong?"

"Yes. The space-folding function of the dovin basals  seemed  erratic  in

the last jump. I checked them, and there may be a problem."

"What sort of problem?"

"I think they are dying."

SIXTEEN

"Bilbringi  system  in  ten  minutes,"  Commander  Raech  of  Mon  Mothma

announced. "Prepare for iminent combat."

Wedge clasped his hands behind his back, didn't like the feel of it,  and

crossed his arms in  front  of  him  instead,  staring  into  the  nothing  of

hyperspace, wondering what would greet them when they decanted.

"You fought at Bilbringi before, didn't you sir?" Lieu-tenant Cel  asked.

"Against Thrawn?"

Wedge gave her a tight grin with little real humor behind it. "Are you  a

student of ancient history, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir-I was ten during the blockade of Coruscant. I remember  it  very

well."

"Well, yes, Lieutenant, I did fight here at Bilbringi-as an X-wing pilot.

I don't think I ever got anywhere near Thrawn."

"No, sir. You divided Thrawn's fleet by attacking the  shipyards,  didn't

you?"

Wedge looked at her, puzzled. "Now you're just sucking up," he said. "Who

would remember that?" he asked.

"They made a big deal of it on the vids," she said, a little abashed. "It

was a great victory."

"It was nearly a terrible defeat," Wedge said. "We got decanted early  by

Imperial interdictors, too far from the shipyards. Thrawn wasn't even supposed

to be there at all-we'd set it up ten different ways to make it look  like  we

were going to hit  Tangrene.  But  Thrawn  was  spooky  that  way.  Absolutely

brilliant. If he hadn't been assassinated by his  own  body-guard  during  the

battle, there's no way we would have won."

"You sound as if you admired him, sir."

"Admired him? Sure I did. He was a different sort of enemy."

"Different from the Yuuzhan Vong, you mean, sir?"

"Different from the Vong,  the  Emperor,  any  other  Grand  Admiral-from

anyone," Wedge replied.

Cel nodded as if she knew what he meant.  "What  do  you  suppose  Thrawn

would make of the Yuuzhan Vong, sir?"

"Ground Vong, probably-if he had a few examples of; their art."

"Yes, sir," Cel said. She paused. "I've heard good things i about Admiral

Pellaeon."

Wedge nodded briefly. "He was here, too. Of course, he; was with  Thrawn,

fighting for the Empire. I'll have to ask him  how  he  remembers  that  whole

thing, once this is over." It's like some weird reunion, he thought. Pash  was

here then, as well, a starfighter pilot like me. Now he  was  the  general  in

charge of the flight group, Pash Cracken was the commander of Memory of Ithor,

and!

Pellaeon was on their side.

"The best thing about Pellaeon was that he knew his  limitations,"  Wedge

said. "Don't get me wrong, he's a very good tactician and excellent at command

- but when Thrawn died, he didn't  kid  himself  that  he  could  salvage  the

battle. That alone set him apart  from  most  Imperial  commanders,  who  more

usually had inflated opinions of themselves. It's why! we were  able  to  beat

them early on. The Vong are a little like that."

He said that last more to reassure the obviously nervous lieutenant  than

because it was the absolute truth. True, a  lot  of  Yuuzhan  Vong  commanders

fought on when they ought to  retreat,  but  it  was  from  a  very  different

sensibility than what had motivated, say, Grand Moff Tarkin. A more  dangerous

sensibility.

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said. "Let's just hope we don't get  surprised

at Bilbringi."

"Lieutenant," he said, as the  reversion  alarm  began  belling,  "I  can

promise you that if we are, I'm absolutely never coming to this system again."

But realspace brought no surprises. They decanted  ex-actly  as  planned,

and in a few moments tactical displays began explaining, in  their  mechanical

way, the situation. Which was also pretty much what they had expected.

Below them, toward Bilbringi's primary,  were  what  had  once  been  the

Bilbringi shipyards. Some of the shipyard structures were still there,  though

the Golan II Battle Sta-tions that had guarded them were conspicuously absent.

And in the asteroid belt near the shipyards, the Yuuzhan Vong had set up their

own shipyards. Of course, the Yuu-zhan Vong grew their ships, feeding them the

raw materials of the asteroids.

Finally,  there  was  a  sizable  flotilla  assembled.  He  counted   two

interdictor cruisers-made obvious by their spicular  configuration-and  twelve

additional capital ships ranging in size from about half to nearly  twice  the

size of Mon Mothma. His battle group was less than a third as large, but  then

again, he was less than a third of what was really in store  for  the  Yuuzhan

Vong at Bilbringi.

"Orders, General?" Commander Raech asked.

"Start bringing us in," Wedge  said.  "Pellaeon  and  Kre'fey  are  under

orders not to rendezvous here until we've assessed the situation and given the

clear, and pinpointed their most strategic positions. Let's  do  our  job  and

make sure we don't lead them into a trap."

"Very good, sir."

The battle group began to move in.

"Sir," the officer at control  informed  him,  "message  coming  in  from

Memory ofIthor. For you, sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'll take it."

A moment later, Pash Cracken's voice came over the comm. "Well, General,"

Pash said, "seems like old times."

"Yes, I was just thinking that, too," Wedge replied. "At least things are

starting smoother this time."

"You can say that again. Boy, they've really redecorated, haven't they?"

"Yep. Maybe I'll hire them to do my place on Chan-drila," Wedge quipped.

"Right. Early Vong deco. Whoops-looks like they're  moving,"  Pash  said.

"I'll let you get back to the general thing. Don't forget I'm back here, okay?

"

"That's not likely. Good to have you on my wing, Pash."

"Thanks, Wedge."

Wedge turned his attention back to the coming battle.  The  Yuuzhan  Vong

ships were in motion, all right, forming quickly  into  two  groups.  One  was

about the size of his own, and included one of the  interdictors.  The  other,

more mas-sive group began moving away from the shipyards.

"Steady," he said. "They're still a long way away. Let's see if  they  do

what I'm hoping-hah."

The smaller battle group vanished from sight and screen.

"Microjump, sir," Cel reported excitedly. "They're be-hind us now."

"Sure. They're putting us between the two interdictors so we can't leave.

They've got all they need to crush us, and  they  know  it."  He  studied  the

chart. "So we'll have Pellaeon drop in here in  sector  six,  and  Kre'fey  in

twelve." He looked it over one more time. Was he missing anything?

"Control," he ordered, "send those coordinates to the re-spective fleets.

" He turned to the commander. "Battle sta-tions, but no  hurry.  We'll  engage

the smaller fleet, try to make it look like we've bitten off more than we  can

chew and are trying to take out the interdictor so we can run along home.  Our

reinforcements will be here long before the second group catches us-they won't

be microjumping with those interdictors going."

The voice of control came back. "General, we seem to have a problem."

"Yes?"

"We can't seem to contact either Beta or Gamma."

"Can't seem to or can't?" Wedge asked.

"Can't, sir."

"Contact central control and have them relay the coordi-nates, then."

"Sir, we can't reach Mon Cal, either. Or anyplace  else.  It's  like  the

entire comm network has gone down."

Wedge looked back at the shaping battle. If  he  didn't  call  the  other

commanders, they wouldn't show up. The battle plan  was  absolutely  clear  on

that point-better to lose one battle group to some unexpected Vong  tactic  or

invention than three. Without the other two flotillas, this could  get  pretty

nasty, and not for the Yuuzhan Vong.

"Yes, Lieutenant," he murmured. "I think I've  just  about  had  it  with

Bilbringi."

SEVENTEEN

Han Solo gazed unhappily at one of the most beautiful sunsets he had ever

seen. And he had seen a lot of sunsets on a lot of different  worlds,  but  as

Mon Calamari's primary hit the ocean horizon and threw its shadow  across  the

waves, the sky went as subtle and iridescent as mother-of-pearl.

Gaudy sunsets were easy to come by, especially on worlds  with  dense  or

dusty atmospheres-understated beauty was more difficult, not only  because  it

was rare, but  also  be-cause  it  sometimes  took  a  lifetime  to  learn  to

appreciate it, Which was why it was too bad he couldn't really enjoy it.

The problem wasn't with the sunset-it was that he was on Mon Calamari  to

see it.

"We can't fight every battle in this war," Leia pointed out.

"What?" Han grumped. "/ didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to. You've been brooding ever  since  Twin  Suns  pulled

out. In fact, since Tahiri left."

"We should've gone with her," he opined.

"Which one? Jaina or Tahiri?"

"Take your pick."

Leia shook her head. "Jaina's a starfighter pilot. It's what she wants to

be. It's where she sees her duty. She's been flying with the Galactic Alliance

forces for months now. If we tried to horn our way  into  the  Bilbringi  push

somehow, she'd-well, she wouldn't like it, to say the least. And Tahiri-Corran

can take care of her. I know he can." She crossed her arms. " But  that's  not

it, is it?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"You're bored. Two weeks without someone trying to kill  us,  and  you're

bored out of your mind."

"I'm not bored," Han replied. "I just-there must be something we  can  be

doing besides sitting around looking at sunsets."

Leia sighed and settled into one of the divans. She gave him one of those

looks. "Nothing's happened in, oh, days that needs you, Han. Sure, things  are

happening, but they're things almost any competent pilot could deal with.  But

when something comes along only Han Solo can handle..."

"All right, that's enough sarcasm for one night,"  Han  said.  It  was  a

mistake. A glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes.

"I'm only being slightly sarcastic, Han," Leia said. "Maybe not  at  all.

In war, sometimes the most important thing-and  the  hardest-is  to  just  sit

still."

He made a face. "You really know how to..."

She reached out and took his hand. "Stop right there," she said,  "and  I

may show you something else I know how to..." She trailed off suggestively.

"I dunno," Han said. "It's an awfully nice sunset."

Leia gestured to the place next to  her  on  the  divan  and  raised  her

eyebrows.

Han shrugged. "You've seen one sunset, you've seen 'em all."

Something pinging interrupted his sleep. Han sat up  and  muzzily  looked

around for the source, finally identifying it as the comm unit in their  room.

Easing out of bed, he stum-bled toward it and opened the channel.

"Yeah?" he mumbled. "This has to be good."

"I'm not sure good is the right word, Solo," a distorted voice said.

Han snorted. He wasn't falling for that again.

"Cut it out, Droma, and tell me what's up. What's the  Ryn  network  into

now?"

"I've no idea what you mean, Solo," the voice replied.

"But something is definitely up."

"Look, it's late-no, it's early," Han said, rubbing his eyes with palm of

his hand. "What is it?"

"The Vong have deployed something new,  maybe..."  -  Droma  said.  "They

launched them a few days ago. Some kind of unpiloted drones, we think,  unless

they've developed some really small pilots."

Han was wide awake now. "What kind of drones?"

"We don't know what they do, if that's what you mean.  But  it  can't  be

good. Figured I'd give you a heads-up. You might mention it to  the  military,

too."

"Yeah, I might," Han said. "Is that all you can tell me?"

"At this time, yes. We're trying  to  track  one  of  them,  but  they're

slippery."

"Some kind of weapon?"

"If I knew that I would tell you. But the Vong are excited about them."

"Thanks," Han said. Then more heavily: "And Droma, if this is you-I don't

appreciate the subterfuge. I mean, security is security, but I thought the two

of us-"

But he was talking to a dead comm.

"Who was that?"  Leia  asked,  from  behind  him.  He  hadn't  heard  her

approach, but he wasn't surprised, either.

"One of our pals in the Ryn network, I think. Maybe Droma. You heard?"

"Yes."

He reached for the comm. "I'd better pass this on." But when he tried  to

call control, he got put on hold. ALL CIRCUITS RESERVED FOR MILITARY PURPOSES.

He frowned at the device, and  then  started  for  where  he'd  left  his

trousers.

"I'm going down there," he said.

"I'm right with you."

They arrived to a tense but relatively quiet situation  room.  They  were

greeted briefly by Sien Sow.

"The first wave is about to go in," the Sullustan said. "Under  Antilles.

He should be coming out of hyperspace in five minutes."

"Mind if we stay?" Han asked. "When you've got  a  spare  minute  I  have

something to brief you on."

"Of course you may stay. Your daughter is with Antilles, isn't she?"

"Last I heard. But that's not why I came down."

"Can it wait, then?"

"I think so, "Han said.

He watched Sow return to control, feeling itchy.  He  hadn't  spent  much

time in situation rooms-he'd always been on the other end  of  things,  mostly

ignoring everything he heard from control. Sure, battle computers were  great,

but they didn't feel anything. They didn't have instinct to help them out.

"General Sow!" someone shouted.

"What is it?"

"Admiral Pellaeon hasn't reported in, sir. He was sup-posed to  alert  us

when he had reached position for the Bil-bringi jump."

"What's the problem?"

"The HoloNet relay in that area seems to be down."

"Can you boost the signal from the next nearest?"

"I can try." The comm technician  frowned  and  fiddled  with  something.

"Sir, transmission coming through from HoloNet relay Delta-aught-six!"

"Put it on."

An excited voice crackled over the comm. "... some kind  of  ships,  very

small. They look Vong, but don't fit any of our profiles. We  can't  get  them

all. Six of them have..." Loud static replaced the voice.

Small ships?

The drones his unknown caller had warned him about?

"We've just  lost  touch  with  Gamma,"  another  communications  officer

reported. He punched wildly at his controls and then looked up, his face  very

pale. "Sir, the HoloNet's down. I can't find a live relay anywhere."

"General," Han said, "I think my news just became a lot more important."

"The HoloNet is down," General  Sow  confirmed  twenty  standard  minutes

later, in a hastily convened  meeting  of  the  war  council.  "The  cause  is

undetermined, though there is some evidence that it's due  to  a  new  Yuuzhan

Vong weapon-some sort of drone."

"Some evidence?" Han interrupted. "You  heard  the  report  from  Tantiss

Station."

Sow conceded that  with  a  nod.  "We  assume  the  other  stations  were

destroyed in the same way," he said. "What-ever the details,  it  seems  clear

that this was an  extremely  well-coordinated  strike  at  the  heart  of  our

communications network. The timing is... suspicious."

"But not conclusive," Bel Iblis  said.  "They  may  have  known  we  were

planning to strike-they probably did - but  not  where.  By  taking  down  the

entire HoloNet, they jeopardize our success whatever our target."

"I tend to agree," Sow said. "An examination of when the relays went off-

line indicates that the first to go were not those nearest Bilbringi. In fact,

the process seems to have started some time ago, albeit in sectors  we  aren't

for the most part in  communication  with  anyway.  Still,  your  whole  point

remains valid. Without the HoloNet to coordinate the other two fleets, General

Antilles is very much on his own.

Jaina, Leia thought. But her daughter was still  alive.  She  could  feel

that much.

"Then all that fighting we did at Esfandia was for nothing?" she said.

"We don't know if Esfandia is still up or not-all the re-lays linking  it

Coreward are gone, though. We're as cut off as the fleets."

"General Antilles is no fool," Bel Iblis said.  "The  other  fleets  have

orders not to make the  jump  to  Bilbringi  without  his  go-ahead.  When  he

realizes he's lost his lines of commu-nication,  he'll  retreat,  as  per  his

orders."

"If he can," Han said. "But if they were expecting the attack-or even  if

they weren't, and they have interdictors-he'll have to fight his way out."

"Can he do that?" Leia asked.

"No," Sow replied. "Our intelligence tells us  that  the  Vong  fleet  at

Bilbringi is too strong for Antilles to defeat without backup."

"And the Vong haven't lost their communications," Bel Iblis pointed  out.

"They can call for backup anytime."

"What will Pellaeon and Kre'fey do when they don't hear from Wedge?" Leia

asked.

"They will hold their positions for a time,  but  when  they're  sure  no

communication is forthcoming-"

"Oh, it's forthcoming," Han said.  "Which  force  is  larger?"  "Beta-the

Imperials."

"Where is it?" Han demanded.

"That's classified, Captain Solo," Sow said.

"Classified?" Han sputtered. "This whole thing has al-ready  gone  south,

General. I say we need to salvage what we can."

"What do you propose, Solo?" Bel Iblis asked.

"We don't have  the  HoloNet.  Hyperwave's  not  good  enough  for  those

distances. The only thing  we  have  faster  than  light  is  ships,  and  the

Millennium Falcon is the fastest ship there is."

"He's right," Leia said. "We need to set up a courier service, and  fast.

It's not just  this  battle,  either-the  Yuuzhan  Vong  will  certainly  take

advantage of this blackout to strike. We could lose whole star systems without

knowing about it."

"Yeah, but they are already too thin to keep the systems  I  they  have,"

Han said. "But our main concern right now-"

"....is the fleet," Sow replied. "Quite right. General  Solo,  if  you're

willing, I'm putting you in charge of a courier ser-vice to  the  fleet.  Find

four other ships, military or otherwise, but people you trust. Reestablish the

lines of communication between Antilles, Pellaeon, and Kre'fey. I'll also take

suggestions on someone to head up  a  more  widespread  emergency  information

service. As it stands now, we are in a vacuum, and everything we have  won  is

in jeopardy."

EIGHTEEN

"Well?" Corran asked Nen Yim. "What can you tell me?"

They had made four more jumps since Nen Yim had given them the assessment

of the ship's living engines, and each had been rougher  than  the  last.  The

vessel's pain had gone from a pinprick to an  aching  throb,  and  Corran  was

happy that most of the ships he flew hadn't had feelings.

Sure, it handled well-when it wasn't sick.

"The deterioration is marked," Nen  Yim  said.  "The  dovin  hasals  were

damaged by the Imperial ship, and the gravitic strains of repeated jumps  have

worsened their condition."

"Why didn't you tell me this before the repeated jumps?" Corran asked.

"It took a few passes through darkspace before I could be certain. Also..

." She paused, and her  tendrils  writhed  like  snakes.  "Also,  I  think  my

coupling of a Yuuzhan Vong drive with a ship designed for  an  unliving  drive

may have been im-perfect and contributed to the deterioration. The wound  only

hastened this. Each time we jump, micro gravitic anomalies  appear  inside  or

very near the dovin basals."

"Eating them from within," Corran said. "Wonderful. Can this be repaired?

"

For the first time since Corran had met  her,  Nen  Yim  actually  seemed

apologetic. "No," she said. "Not with the resources available here.  Also,  it

is clear that my understanding of Sekotan biology is flawed, or this would not

be hap-pening. I need more samples."

"I don't think it's biology," Tahiri said. "I think it's the Force."

They both turned to her. "Explain," Corran said.

"This ship exists in the Force," Tahiri explained.  "You  can  [feel  it,

can't you, Corran? And the nearer we get to Sekot-"

"The stronger the connection becomes," he agreed. "Yeah, I've felt that."

It was as if the ship was eagerly returning to a long-lost family.

"So maybe this ship is rejecting the engines, because they j don't  exist

in the Force, and the closer  we  get  to  Zonama  Sekot,  the  stronger  that

rejection becomes."

"That seems unlikely," Nen Yim said. "The Force, what-1 ever it  may  be,

should not govern simple biological reac-tions. The links between the  Sekotan

ship and our engines should work."

"Yet they don't, and you don't know why," Tahiri said,  a  I  little  too

smugly for Corran's tastes. Still, he was impressed with her reasoning.

"Granted," Nen Yim reluctantly acquiesced.

Tahiri leaned against the bulkhead and crossed her arms,

"Look, you said it yourself-you need a guess to start from,  You've  been

asking why Yuuzhan Vong and Sekotan tech-nology  are  so  similar.  Turn  that

around-how are interferent! Because if Sekotan life-forms exist  in  the  For.

Yuuzhan Vong life-forms  don't,  somewhere,  somehow,  there  must  be  a  big

difference."

Nen Yim's tentacles contracted, writhed briefly, and set-tled against her

head.

"It's a place to start," she admitted.

"That still doesn't help us now," Corran pointed out. "If we're  stranded

in  space  without  any  means  of  communication,  that's  going  to   remain

speculation." He folded his j arms across his chest. "Oh, and plus, we'll die.

"

"The engines can stand another jump, maybe two or  three,  if  we  do  it

soon," Nen Yim offered.

Corran sighed, looking at his charts, which were easily as speculative as

the topic they were discussing. He suddenly, powerfully, missed Mirax,  Valin,

and Jysella, and even that  nasty  father-in-law  of  his.  In  fact,  it  was

actually kind of handy, having a father-in-law who might drop in with his  big

red Star Destroyer to save the day.

Wasn't likely to happen this time, though.

"It's risky," he said, coming back to the moment, "but I believe I  could

get us to the system in one more jump,  as-suming  there's  not  an  uncharted

black hole in our path. But if Tahiri is right, as  soon  as  we  arrive,  the

engines will fail, if they don't fail during the jump."

"But we'll be there," Tahiri said. "And even if  we  can't  land,  Master

Skywalker, Jacen, and Mara can help us."

"The alternative is to stay here and wait for the do-vin basals to die-or

to attempt another destination," Nen Yim said.

"Well, maybe if we're going away from Zonama Sekot..." Corran began.

Nen Yim shook her head, a very human gesture. Corran wondered if she  had

learned the negative from being around Tahiri and him. "Even," she  said,  "if

we accept the young Jeedai's idea as  a  working  hypothesis,  it  would  only

predict the rate of deterioration to slow  if  we  go  elsewhere.  The  damage

already done will not heal."

"Three jumps, then, best-case scenario?"

"I don't understand that phrase, but I would expect no  more  than  three

jumps. Fewer would be better."

"Fine," Corran said. "We go ahead, then. Everybody to crash couches. This

could get rough."

It got rough.

Even before reversion, something felt wrong, and  the  instant  they  hit

normal space the stars went out again  as  the  ship  somehow  made  an  extra

microjump of its own. In the jolting, Corran was reminded of a stone  skipping

on water, and hoped it was a poor analogy and they didn't keep on jumping.

Existence rushed back, but there were no stars-instead, enormous bands of

roiling red and yellow filled their tum-bling view.

Tumbling... and falling down a gravity well, Corran realized.  They  were

caught in the pull of a titanic planet, at least the size of Yavin 4, probably

larger. The controls and the ship's feelings told him that one  of  the  dovin

basals was completely off-line-or in shock, or dead, or  whatever-which  meant

they weren't going to be doing any starhopping anytime  soon.  The  other  two

were working, though one was fading fast.

"Come on, baby," Corran grunted,  trying  to  get  the  wild  spin  under

control and establish a stable orbit. But something  was  throwing  everything

off, and the pull was so strong There was another pull, too. The ship felt it,

felt Zonama Sekot, and it wanted to go home.

He managed to kill the tumble and roll, which made it at I least possible

to get their bearings. His sensors were showing I  another  planet,  this  one

roughly the size of Corellia, about a hundred thousand klicks away. And  there

was something else, too, something in orbit around it. A moon? They  were  too

far away to tell.

"We've got a chance," he said. "If we can  get  close  enough  to  Zonama

Sekot, its gravity well will have a stronger pull on us than the  big  planet.

If the engines quit now-well, we're all going to gain some weight."

He pulled the drive levers back, and the ship throbbed  in  protest.  The

air suddenly smelled foul, like burning hair and fish oil.

"Not much more," he whispered to the ship. "But more." The  second  dovin

basal suddenly hummed awake-he could feel  it  like  a  heart  near  breaking,

sending pulses of agony through everything else, but the ship suddenly  surged

forward. Then the heart did break, and the  indicators  went  dark.  Only  one

engine remained now.

"What now?" Tahiri whispered. "Did we make it?"

"I don't know yet. We're right at the break point."

"Maybe we should all go stand on the side  of  the  ship  nearest  Zonama

Sekot," Tahiri said.

"Funny," Corran said, and without  even  thinking  he  reached  over  and

mussed her hair.

She jerked away as if he had attacked her.

"Sorry," he said.

"No, it's my fault," Tahiri said, going red. "It's just-"

She broke off helplessly.

"The head," Nen Yim explained. "In Domain Kwaad,  we  do  not  touch  the

head."

Corran regarded the snakelike coils on hers. "Yes, I guess not," he said.

I have to let go, he thought.

Whatever she is, Tahiri isn't Anakin's little friend anymore. Of  course,

that happened even without Yuuzhan Vong interference. He wasn't even sure what

sort of music  Valin  liked  these  days,  but  it  probably  wasn't  what  he

remembered. Yes, when he got back from this he was  going  home,  for  a  long

time. Or, rather if he got back...

He looked at the instruments. "Oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "We  made  it."  He

pointed at Zonama Sekot. "We're falling that way now."

"You did it," Tahiri said.

"The ship did it," Corran replied. "Of course..."

"What?"

He flashed her a smile. "Of course, we are still falling, and  while  the

jolt at the end won't be quite as hard, it's still going to smart."

"It's always going to be something  with  you,  isn't  it?  Tahiri  said.

"You've got a dovin basal left."

"For how long? If we can't find Luke-"

"I'm trying," Tahiri informed him. "I've been trying since we  got  here.

But all I can sense is that planet. It's so strong  in  the  Force  it  drowns

everything else out."

"I'll try, too," Corran said. "It  may  be  our  only  hope.  Shaper,  if

there's anything you can do for that last dovin basal..."

"I will attend to it," Nen Yim replied. They watched the moon grow.  Both

Jedi continued to j reach out through the Force, but if  Jacen  and  the  rest

were * there, Tahiri certainly couldn't sense them. It was like lis - j tening

for a voice in a sandstorm.

"Perhaps it isn't the right planet," Harrar suggested.

"It is the planet," the Prophet averred. "The planet of [prophecy.  Can't

you feel it?"

Harrar frowned. "I feel-" He snapped his head side to side. "No, nothing.

"

"This ought to be the place," Corran replied. "The ship certainly  thinks

it is."

He checked his long-range sensors again. Whatever was orbiting the planet

had moved behind the horizon now. He wasn't sure, but the last read on it  had

looked suspiciously like an Imperial frigate.

Luke had been escorted by an Imperial frigate, or so Kenth had told  him.

If he could somehow make orbit a link lower and faster  than  the  ship,  they

could eventually catch it. j And maybe get blasted out  of  space.  Unless  he

could hang some sort of sign out declaring his peaceful intentions.  The  Imps

still might shoot him down just for the fun of it. Looking at his  trajectory,

he suddenly realized that he didn't even have a choice.

"Ah, Sithspit," he grumbled.

"What is it? "Tahiri asked.

"Remind me to never fly a ship that has a mind of its own,  especially  a

homesick one," Corran said. "It's got us on a landing vector."

"That is what we want, is it not?" the Prophet asked.

"Yes, but it would be nice to land near our friends,"

Corran replied, "especially since I've a feeling we won't be  taking  off

again-not in this ship."

"I suggest survival is our first priority," Yu'shaa answered.

"Point. Okay, folks, we're about to say a close hello to Zonama Sekot.  I

suggest you all strap back in. The slow part of this trip is over."

He hit the atmosphere too steeply, and had to apply a hard push from  the

dovin basal to correct. The ship winced, but did its job,  and  they  whistled

down through the upper atmosphere. He felt the  skin  temperature  climb,  and

again cut the engine in, trying to stay above terminal  velocity.  Burning  up

would be no better than crashing.

Water and jungle whipped by beneath, and Corran had to agree with Harrar-

it looked like any of a hundred worlds. But  it  felt  different.  Tahiri  was

right-the Force was strong here, but strange, and put up a sort of white noise

he couldn't filter through. Now and then he thought he might feel Luke, but it

was never more than a glimpse or a glimmer.

He had more important things to worry about. The tree-tops were coming up

fast. It was time to brake for real. He engaged the dovin basal  and  felt  it

falter almost im-mediately, and then kick back in. Their airspeed dropped, but

not nearly quickly enough. He couldn't push the engine any harder even  if  he

wanted to, though. He'd diverted all its ability  to  cancel  inertia  in  the

cabin so he could use it to fly, and the g's were already mounting to his  own

tolerance level, which was pretty high. He cut the  angle  harder,  trav-eling

closer and closer to horizontal to the ground, wishing the Sekotan  craft  had

wings, so if the dovin basal failed en-tirely he would at least have a chance.

A hundred meters from the ground, he still wasn't level,

Fifty, almost there...

They mowed a swath through treetops and the  dovin  basal  went  suddenly

off-line. Unpowered, the ship was a hollow rock thrown by a giant, and without

an inertial compensator they were going to be pasted all over  the  inside  of

it. There's the unity we're looking for, he thought grimly. Yuu-zhan Vong  and

human, all mixed together in one nasty...

They hit something very hard,  and  then,  desperately,  he  reached  out

through the Force, felt Tahiri reaching out too, and then...

Then he felt Sekot, immense, powerful, and indifferent,

But something happened, a connection, and  they  were  sud-denly  falling

like a feather...

For just a second. Then free fall returned, and instants later they  came

to ground, hard.

"Interesting landing, Jeedai Horn," Harrar remarked.

"How is everyone?" Corran turned painfully in  his  seat  to  survey  his

companions.

The return chorus assured him that everyone had made it through.

Everyone but the ship, that is. The glow was going out  of  it,  and  the

little voice in his head was a whisper, fading. Sorry,  he  sent  through  the

Force.

But you got us here. Thank you. Then he felt it go.

He looked out through the viewport at a forested landscape,

"Well," he told the others, "we seem to be here. I suggest we see if  the

hatch will open, and find out just what we came all this way for."

PART THREE

TRANSFIGURATION

NINETEEN

"No, not  again,"  Han  snapped  as  the  Falcon  dropped  suddenly  from

hyperspace. "This is really starting to get old." How many times was he  going

to get pulled out by Yuuzhan Vong  interdictor  analogs?  There  weren't  even

supposed to be any Vong here.

He threw the ship into a series of evasive maneuvers.

"Okay, where are you scar-faced clowns?" he growled.

"It's not Yuuzhan Vong," Leia said. "Look."

He did look, and had to resist the temptation to rub his eyes. For there,

silhouetted against the bright stars of the Core, was an Imperial interdictor.

He noticed the comm was buzzing for attention. "Put 'em on," Han managed.

A moment later, a terse voice filtered into  the  cockpit.  "Unidentified

vessel, this is Captain Mynar Devis of the Imperial  cruiser  Wrack.  Identify

yourself immediately."

"Some things don't change," Leia murmured.

"Easy, honey. I think it's kind of romantic. Takes me  back.  Anyway,  it

has to be part of Pellaeon's bunch." He  keyed  to  answer.  "Wrack,  this  is

Millennium Falcon. Looks like you're a little lost. The  Imperial  Remnant  is

about twenty parsecs from here. Do you mind telling me  whose  or-ders  you're

under?" There was a gravid pause. Then the voice returned.

"Captain Solo, I presume. You're every bit as insolent as I'd heard."

"Now, listen..." Han began, but the captain cut him off.

"And it's a great pleasure to meet  you."  Devis  suddenly  sounded  very

young. "I thought I  recognized  Millennium  Falcon  from  the  holos,  but  I

couldn't be positive. How can I be of service?"

"Ah..." For a rare moment, Han was speechless. "Well, nice to  meet  you,

too," he said. Not exactly what he'd been  expecting,  even  with  the  recent

alliance. He had a fan in the Empire? "But I suppose I still need an answer to

my question before we continue this little love fest."

"Of course, sir. I'm here under orders from Grand Ad-miral Pellaeon."

"In connection with Operation Trinity?"

"Yes. I-ah-wasn't informed you were involved, sir."

"I just got drafted. In fact, I'm on the  way  to  meet  with  the  Grand

Admiral. What are you guys doing, watching the back door?"

"Excuse me? I-oh, I see. Yes, sir. The Grand Admiral placed  interdictors

on all the major routes leading to the fleet's location."

"Smart," Han said.  "Someone  comes  along  and  you  yank  them  out  of

hyperspace and send a warning to the fleet. Dan-gerous position. What  happens

if a whole Yuuzhan Vong flotilla jumps in here?"

"We're to delay any forces that arrive here as long as we can, then jump.

Unfortunately, our mission has been impacted by some sort of trouble with  the

local HoloNet relay. We can't get a message through to Grand Admiral Pellaeon.

"

"It's not just the local relay," Han informed  him.  "The  whole  thing's

going down. Some sort of new Vong weapon, we  think.  Communication  has  been

lost between the fleets-that's why we're here. Have you sent any couriers?"

"Yes,  Captain  Solo.  We  had  an  incident  not  long  after  we   lost

communication. We sent a courier to report it and re-ceive orders."

"Incident? What sort of incident?"

"We pulled a ship out of hyperspace. We gave  pursuit,  but  it  launched

some sort of weapon that disabled our for-ward gravity-well generator."

"Vong?"

"I don't know. What sensor readings we got made it  as  organic,  but  it

didn't match any known profiles of Yuuzhan Vong ships."

"That's no surprise," Han said. "Every  time  you  turn  around,  they've

grown something new."

"Their escape vector didn't put it going anywhere near the fleets, but it

must have reported us. The courier returned and told us to hold our position."

"That's good," Han told Leia. "That means Pellaeon hasn't pulled  out  of

the whole thing. He's still waiting on word from Wedge."

"Which we don't have," Leia said.

"Right. To get that, we'd have to go to Bilbringi."

"Which is not what our orders were," Leia reminded him.

"True," Han said. "And I'm such a stickler for orders..."

He opened the channel again. "Captain Devis, could you do me a favor  and

send another courier? "

"Yes, of course."

"Thanks. Tell the Grand Admiral we're going to see what's going  on  with

Alpha. As soon as we know something, we'll report back directly to him."

"Yes, sir. Captain Solo?"

"Yes?"

"If Alpha is fighting without backup, things may be pretty hot there. May

I send an escort with you? I could spare a few TIE defenders."

"I don't..."

"Han," Leia said. "He's right. And if we get stuck, one of the TIEs might

be able to slip out with a report."

Han nodded reluctantly. "As long as they don't get in my way,"  he  said.

He opened the channel. "Thanks-the help is appreciated."

"It's easily given. I've been following your  career  since  I  was  five

years old, sir."

"Well, let's hope there's plenty more for you to follow," Han replied.

"I'll see to it," Devis said.

A few moments later, three TIE defenders came streaking their way.

"Hi, fellows," Han told them. "I'm sending jump coordinates. Try to  keep

up with us."

"We'll do our best, sir," the flight leader  replied.  Han  wrinkled  his

brow. "Devis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Since when  does  the  captain  of  an  interdictor  trade  down  for  a

starfighter?"

"Since interdiction duty is boring, sir. I'll sort it out with the  Grand

Admiral later. Easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, as they say."

"Okay," Han said. "Looks like the interdiction field is down. Let's go do

this."

TWENTY

A shock ran through Nen Yim as she stepped onto the leaf-littered soil of

Zonama Sekot. It went from her toes to the tips of her tendril  headdress  and

left her gaping. She remembered the first time she had  set  foot  on  a  real

planet of stone and soil and biosphere-it had been the moon of Yavin  4,  just

before her elevation to adept. She had been filled with wonder,  fasci-nation,

and trepidation. To appearances, Zonama Sekot  was  not  much  different  from

Yavin-vegetation towered in a high canopy above her,  and  strange  sounds  of

insects and animals created a steady drone. And  yet-yet  it  was  dif-ferent.

Yavin 4 had been utterly alien to everything she  had  ever  known,  and  even

Yuuzhan'tar, now bioformed with plants and animals from  the  lost  homeworld,

felt wrong,

But this place felt right, as even the worldship  she  had  grown  up  on

never had. It was as if a piece of her had been cut  off  and,  until  it  was

replaced, she hadn't even known to miss it.

She realized her mouth was  open  and  closed  it.  She  glanced  at  her

companions, all of whom had come out of the ruined Sekotan ship by now. Harrar

and the Prophet looked stunned, as she must. The two  Jeedai  looked  curious,

but the planet clearly hadn't had the impact on them that it had  on  her.  Of

course, she found human faces difficult to read, despite their  similarity  in

structure.

She tried to shake the feeling off so  she  could  observe  ob-jectively.

Could there be some sort of pollen in the  air,  some  microbe  that  affected

Yuuzhan Vong but not humans? Possibly. Something that lulled the thinking mind

and created feelings of belonging. Such drugs had been used on the  worldships

in the deeps of space to keep the population from going mad in the long dark.

"I must begin immediately," she said.

"This is the place," the  Prophet  asserted.  Oddly  enough,  he  sounded

surprised. Harrar said nothing, but the look he shot the  Prophet  could  only

have been described as respect. Suddenly annoyed, Nen Yim went back  into  the

ship to get some of her tools.  After  a  moment,  she  realized  Yu'shaa  was

following her.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I would like to assist you."

"I need no assistance from-" She didn't finish.

The Prophet pulled himself up before her. "A Shamed One?" he said. "Come,

Nen Yim. You are a thinker, and, I think, a heretic of a sort. Can't  you  see

past my disfigure-ments and understand that you and I are here  for  the  same

purpose?"

A hot, unfamiliar feeling passed through her, and her ten-drils  twitched

in consternation.

"Very well," she said. "This ship is no longer suitable to function as  a

laboratory. I wish to move my apparati out-side  and  contrive  some  sort  of

shelter. You may help with that, if you wish."

"You will not regret this, Master Yim."

She nodded, and continued toward the back of the ship. It  bothered  her,

speaking with a Shamed One, but she knew it should not.

Corran wiped the sweat from his brow. "After this," he  said,  "our  next

priority is to find Luke." He  sliced  his  lightsaber  through  the  base  of

another sapling and added it to the pile. Nearby, Tahiri did the same.

"There. That ought to be enough for the frame."

"I don't know about you, but the planet  is  still  interfering  with  my

senses. How do we find Master Skywalker  without  the  Force?"  Tahiri  asked.

"It's a big planet. We can't just start walking and hope to run into him."

"No, but this place is  supposed  to  be  inhabited-by  Fer-roans,  if  I

understand correctly, and they ought to be able to help us get in contact with

the others."

"I haven't seen any signs of civilization," Tahiri said.

"Neither have I," Corran admitted. "But tomorrow I'll start looking. Just

short searches, and maybe I can talk Harrar and the Prophet  into  going  with

me."

"What about me?" Tahiri asked. "What do I do?"

"I want you to keep an eye on the shaper. You know her better than I  do.

What I don't want is any of them left to their own devices for too long."

"Okay," Tahiri replied.

Corran slung the poles over his shoulder  and  started  back  toward  the

clearing near the ship where Nen Yim was de-positing a variety of weird biots.

"What have you done?" Harrar asked when he saw them. His tone  was  dense

with reproach.

"Nen Yim said she needed a shelter," Corran explained.

"The ship is pretty twisted up and probably won't be very  pleasant  when

its organic components start to deteriorate, so that  means  building  a  hut.

These will furnish the frame."

"You killed living things to build a shelter? We're to stay indeadlife?"

"Unless you brougjit the means to grow your own, yes. I don't know abojit

yd*u, but I don't want to sleep in the rain. Unless you have a better idea."

"I...consider," the priest pleaded. "We came to this place following  the

legends of a living planet, a planet like no other. If these legends are true,

is it best we begin by killing things? What if the planet is angered?"

"I never thought I would hear a Yuuzhan Vong say any-thing remotely  like

that," Corran said. "You guys started this war by wiping out not  just  a  few

saplings but entire ecosystems. Remember Belkadan? Remember Ithor?"

"Yes," Harrar said, stonily. He seemed  to  want  to  say  more,  but  he

didn't.

Corran glanced at the saplings. "Unfortunately," he  con-fessed,  "you're

right, I wasn't thinking. Which means, I suppose, we need to find some sort of

natural shelter. A cave, maybe, or a rock shelter. There might be some in  the

high ground to the east of here. Would you care to accom-pany me, Harrar?"

"I would," the priest said. "And-thank you for consid-ering my words."

"What about you, Yu'shaa?" Corran asked, hopefully.

"I'm about to go on a collecting expedition,"  Nen  Yim  said.  "He  will

accompany me."

"That sounds neat," Tahiri said. "Can I go?" Aces, kid, Corran thought.

The shaper shrugged noncommittally.

Tahiri shared a quick mental smile with Corran.  He  was  amazed  at  how

quickly she had turned a misstep into an op-portunity, solving their immediate

problems rather neatly. He wished she could deal  with  social  situations  as

conveniently. Nom Anor watched Nen Yim move among  canelike  plants,  stroking

them with her shaper's hand and occasionally recording cryptic  entries  in  a

portable qahsa. The Jedi brat sat on a log some distance away, pretending  not

to be interested, but she was watching them, nonetheless.

The shaper had been "collecting" for hours, but so far as Nom Anor  could

see, she hadn't collected anything. She  had  examined  trees,  shrubs,  moss,

fungi, and arthropods with singular intensity. She hadn't shared  anything  of

what she was thinking, though the expressions that flitted across her  usually

impassive face indicated that she found much to think about.

One thing had come clear, though-Shimrra was right to fear  this  planet.

He had seen the faces of his Yuuzhan Vong companions, knew they felt the  same

affinity for this world that he did. When he'd made his  prophecy,  he'd  been

min-ing a few scraps of intelligence and some very old-and strongly forbidden-

legends. He hadn't believed it himself, of course. He'd been  trying  to  give

his followers a ray of hope in  otherwise  dark  times.  Give  them  something

specific to fight for-a homeworld, and redemption.

Now he had to revise all of that. Zonama Sekot was real,  and  it  seemed

not at all impossible that it could be the planet of legend.

Of course, in the  legends  it  was  taboo.  The  legends  for-bade  even

entering the galaxy where such a planet was found. What did that mean? Had the

Yuuzhan Vong battled with Zonama Sekot in the  past,  and  lost?  Had  Shimrra

known about the planet's presence here even before the in-vasion began?  There

had been rumors that Quoreal had balked at invading. Then  Quoreal  was  dead,

and Shimrra ascended to the throne. Had  the  Supreme  Overlord  gone  against

prophecy, against the gods themselves?

Or was the legend somehow wrong? Zonama  Sekot  certainly  did  not  feel

taboo. It didn't matter. This was his moment. With his prophecy  proven  true,

more  and  more  Shamed  Ones  would  flock  to  him.  His  army  would  grow,

unstoppable, until Shimrra fell, and Nom Anor rose...

Yes. Rose to govern not the glorious Yuuzhan Vong, but a state of  Shamed

Ones.

Ah, well. Better than death, and better than nothing.

A gasp from Nen Yim cut short his reverie. He looked  and  saw  her  bent

over yet another plant, one that consisted of  long  filamentlike  fronds.  Or

perhaps it wasn't a plant, for the fronds seemed to be  moving  of  their  own

accord.

"What is it? "he asked.

"A lim tree,"  she  murmured.  She  looked  stunned.  "Or  a  very  close

relative."

Nom Anor had never heard of a lim tree. Before he could ask what one was,

and why she seemed so surprised, she turned to him, her eyes nearly ferocious.

"Do you truly believe this is the planet of your prophecy?"

"Of course," Nom Anor replied. "Why else would I risk the perils involved

in finding it?"

"From whence came this prophecy?" she demanded.

"From a vision I had-of this world, shining like a  beacon,  like  a  new

star in the skies of Yuuzhan'tar."

"In the skies of Yuuzhan'tar?"

"That was my vision," he said. "But prophecy is not al-ways  literal.  We

are in the sky of Yuuzhan'tar, though at such a vast distance  that  even  the

star this planet orbits is probably unseen. I believe  it  meant  that  Zonama

Sekot was here, in the stars, waiting only for us to find it and be worthy  of

it. And so we have."

"And you believe it will redeem the Shamed Ones?"

"Yes. But not just the Shamed Ones. Once they are re-deemed,  all  of  us

are."

"But this vision," she persisted. "Where did it come from?"

"I do not know the true source of my visions," Nom Anor  said  carefully.

"Only that they are always true. Per-haps the gods  send  them.  Perhaps  this

planet itself sent them. What does it matter?"

"Because that is a lim tree," she said.

"I do not understand you."

"The lim tree was a plant of the homeworld.  It  has  long  been  extinct

except as a code in the Qang qahsa.  I  grew  one  for  myself,  to  adorn  my

apartment at Shimrra's court."

"And now you find one here. Curious."

"No, not curious, impossible."

He waited for her to explain further.

"These other things," she said, "these plants and crea-tures  around  us,

they share much with our own biota at the cellular and molecular  level.  That

is one thing I came here to confirm-the Sekotan ship might have been a  fluke,

a false similarity that arose from similar engineering. But this life you  see

all around us evolved naturally, or at least most of it did. It does not  bear

the mark of shaping. And though, as I said, there is reason to believe we  are

biologically related to  all  of  this-no  other  species  I  have  seen  here

corresponds on any  one-to-one  basis  with  the  extinct  life-forms  of  the

homeworld."

"And yet this lim tree is one of our species."

"Yes. The differences between this tree and a lim are small  enough  that

they must have shared a common an-cestor only a few millennia ago."

"I still don't understand the significance."

She gave him an exasperated stare. "Relationship at the  molecular  level

could be explained by a common ancestor millions or  even  billions  of  years

ago. In all that time, it is not so far-fetched to believe that  somehow  life

from our home galaxy was brought here-by a long-extinct space-faring race,  or

merely as spores, riding the faint push of light and currents of gravity.  But

something as complex and specific as a lim tree cannot be  explained  in  that

way. It indi-cates more recent contact between this world and our own.

"Perhaps Commander Val left one behind."

"When I accessed the Qang qahsa for my lim tree's ge-netic code,  it  had

not been accessed in a thousand years. The plant is of no use to a spacefaring

race."

"How do you explain it, then?"

"I can't. Perhaps there was an earlier ship-a  worldship  that  left  our

galaxy long before the main fleet. Perhaps they came here-" She stopped.  "No,

that can only be conjec-ture. I need more data before I  begin  to  talk  like

this." Nom Anor smiled. "But I must say it is enjoyable to hear you talk  like

this. Your passion is obvious. You are a credit to our people,  Nen  Yim.  You

will find the right path for us." That got a smile from her. "I  thought  that

was your job."

"I had the vision, but you are the one realizing it.  I  am  little  more

than a passenger on this trip."

"Your insight has been interesting, however."

"I wish I understood enough about your work to be of real aid."

"You can be, if you're willing to learn."

"I'm eager to," he said.

"Good. You carry the qahsa and record what  I  tell  you.  I'm  going  to

collect a few live specimens of the arthropods living in that rotten log  over

there." And with that, she placed a world of information into Nom Anor's hand.

He stared at it, feeling he had won a vic-tory, not quite sure what to do with

it.

TWENTY-ONE

"Ah," Harrar said. "Success at last."

"Looks like it," Corran said. "So long as somebody doesn't  already  call

it home."

They were facing  up  a  long,  rocky  ridge  that  showed  a  number  of

pronounced overhangs. Corran tried to hide his disappointment-their search had

carried them less than a kilometer from the downed  ship,  during  which  time

he'd seen no signs whatsoever of civilization.  Of  course,  it  was  hard  to

search thoroughly when you refused to take your eyes off your search  partner.

He was a very long way from trusting Harrar. Or any of the Yuuzhan  Vong,  for

that matter, but es-pecially a priest. A priestess of the deception  sect  had

very nearly succeeded in wiping out a good portion of the Jedi. He started  up

the slope, keenly aware of the man be-side him, fighting  reflexes  that  told

him to draw his light-saber now.

"Is your home like this?" Harrar asked.

"My home?"

"Your planet of origin."

"Oh. Not really. I mean, it's got forests and fields, but  for  the  most

part it's pretty civilized." He frowned.

"It is covered in cities?" Harrar asked.

"If you're thinking about Coruscant when you say that, no."

Harrar made a peculiar face. "For us," he said,  "the  world  you  called

Coruscant represented the ultimate abomination. A world  entirely  covered  in

machines. It is because it repre-sented everything we despise that we chose it

for our capital, to remake it in the image of our lost homeworld."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Corran said curtly. " If you have * a point  to

make, make it."

Harrar's eyes seemed to harden a bit. "I am  searching  for  a  point,  I

think," he said. "I have had little opportunity to speak  with  infidels  when

they weren't being sacrificed or tortured."

"You're not scoring big with me right now, Harra^" Corran pointed out. He

let his hand drift toward his lightsaber.

Harrar cocked his head, and  a  grim  smile  played  across  his  scarred

features. "Do not think I fear you, Jeedai. I do not doubt that you-the slayer

of Shedao Shai-could best me in combat. But you would remember the fight."

"Is that what you want?" Corran asked. "To fight me?"

"Of course not."

"Fine. Then we won't."

They had reached the rock shelter now. It looked good-dry, protected,  no

caves leading off to the lair of who-knew-what.

"But I would like to ask you something," the priest said, settling cross-

legged upon a stone.

"Ask, then," Corran said.

"I mentioned Shedao Shai. When you dueled him, you risked your  life  for

the planet Ithor, correct? Those were the only stakes?"

"Yes," Corran said. "The Yuuzhan Vong were going to  poison  the  planet.

Shedao Shai agreed that if I won the duel, it wouldn't happen. If he  won,  he

got the bones of his an-cestor back."

"And yet, from what I have been able to  determine,  Ithor  had  no  real

strategic value, no valuable minerals for your machines. So why did you do it?

"

Corran frowned, wondering where Harrar  could  pos-sibly  be  going  with

this. "Three reasons," he said. "The first was that I couldn't stand aside and

let Ithor be de-stroyed if there was something I could do about it. And  there

was-Shai had a vendetta against me. I was the only one around who could  tempt

him with such a duel with such stakes.  The  second  reason  was  that  I  had

something of a vendetta against him, as well-he murdered my friend Elegos when

he tried to make peace with your people."

"That last I can understand," Harrar said. "Revenge is desirable."

"Not for a Jedi," Corran said. "It was foolish and dan-gerous  of  me  to

fight Shai with those feelings in my heart. If I had been  fighting  primarily

for revenge, rather than for Ithor, it would have been wrong."

"I have heard it said that Jeedai avoid the strong emotions. I have never

understood it. Perhaps another time you can explain it to me."

"I can try."

"Good. But for present, I don't want to lose the scent of  this  hunt.  I

still don't understand your motives. And not just yours-many  of  your  people

died defending Ithor. You fought for it from the start.  Were  you  protecting

the secret of the pollen that destroyed our  troops?  Surely  you  could  have

replicated it elsewhere."

"We were never actually able to replicate it," Corran said. "But  no,  we

fought for Ithor because it was one of  the  most  beautiful  planets  in  the

galaxy, and because the Itho-rians are a  peaceful  people  who  never  harmed

anyone." He crossed his arms. "And because it was one of our planets."

"And yet you personally suffered disgrace for defending it."

Corran stiffened. "You know a lot about me," he said.

"It is a famous story," Harrar  said.  "Shimrra  was  delighted  at  your

treatment. It was then that he began to  under-stand  that  the  best  way  to

destroy the Jeedai was merely to turn your own people against  you,  something

that was re-markably easy to do."

"Yes, wasn't it," Corran said. "All Tsavong Lah had to.  do  was  promise

not to wipe out any  more  entire  planets  if  we  were  handed  to  him  for

sacrifice. Some people were | frightened enough to do it."

"There must be more to it than that,"  Harrar  said.  "Perhaps  some  are

jealous of you and resent your powers. Perhaps because some Jeedai  may  abuse

that power?"

Tricky, Corran thought. He's trying to pump me  for  information  on  our

weaknesses.

"Think what you want. The reason for my disgrace after Ithor was  because

a lot of people hadn't quite figured you guys out. They  didn't  realize  that

you weren't planning to stop until every last one of us was dead or  enslaved.

They couldn't imagine why anyone would poison an entire planet-a planet  that,

as you say, had no military or commercial value-just because they could.  They

thought it must have been because the Jedi put up a fight and angered  you.  A

lot of people figured that Ithor was destroyed because I  killed  Shai  rather

than in spite of it." He realized, suddenly, that his voice had  been  rising,

and that he had just delivered a genuine diatribe. He hadn't realized how much

bitterness lingered in him.  But  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  really

discussed the matter with one of them.

"Here is my dilemma," Harrar said. "I do not understand how a people  who

placed such value on Ithor could also  hold  dear  the  abomination  that  was

Coruscant." Corran snorted. "And I don't understand how a people who claim  to

worship life would destroy a pristine planet," he replied.

"So you've said once already. But since you said it, I've  been  thinking

about it. You may be right. There may be a contradiction there."

"May?"

Corran studied the Yuuzhan Vong's face for signs of  mockery.  The  near-

human visage suddenly seemed more alien than ever.

"Understand," Harrar said, "all  life  ends.  Killing  is  in  itself  no

wrongdoing. Even here, in this forest, plants are eaten  by  animals,  animals

devour one another, the dead form the food for the plants. My earlier  concern

for the saplings you cut was that the planet might  take  it  as  an  at-tack,

since we are from outside, not because I felt it was wrong on  some  intrinsic

level for you to cut them. In the end, every living thing dies.  Planets  die.

But life itself should go on. Your technology threatens that-ours does not.

A world like Coruscant proves that a world could exist without forests or

true seas. And if the living sentients in  its  belly  were  replaced  by  the

machines-that-mock-life you call droids, there could be  completion.  Machines

could spread without benefit of life. They could replace it. That,  my  people

cannot-would never-allow. We would fight until all of us were dead to  prevent

it, even the Shamed who now rise against us."

"But..."

Harrar raised a  hand.  "Please.  Allow  me  to  finish  an-swering  your

question. When we destroy  life-even  an  en-tire  planet,  as  with  Ithor-we

replace it with new life."

"Yuuzhan Vong bioformed life."

"Yes, of course."

"So you think that makes it okay?" Corran asked.

"Yes," the priest answered.

Corran shrugged. "So if that's your view, where is the contradiction?"

"Because in my heart," Harrar said, pronouncing each word  carefully  and

distinctly, "I feel the destruction of Ithor was wrong."

Corran regarded the priest for a long moment,  wishing  the  Force  could

help him decide if he was lying or not. Of course, before he'd learned to know

the Force, natural sus-picion and CorSec training had served pretty  well.  To

those ears, Harrar sounded sincere.

"What do you want from me?" Corran asked, finally.  Harrar  steepled  his

fingers together. "I've spoken of the contradiction in my people.  I  want  to

understand the con-tradiction in yours."

"Oh. That's simple-we're not really one people. There  are  thousands  of

'peoples' in this galaxy, and often we don't have a whole lot  in  common.  If

there's one thing you can say about 'us,' it's that we're a diverse lot. There

are some cultures that probably would have made  Ithor  like  Coruscant  or  a

wasteland like Bonadan. There are beings in this galaxy who don't  value  life

at all, and others who worship it to the exclusion of all  else.  Most  of  us

fall somewhere in between. Believe it or not, technology and 'life' really can

coexist."

"That is what I'm struggling with. You believe that. My  people  do  not.

Whatever Zonama Sekot represents, what-ever promise it holds for my people,  I

do not know that it can ever bring peace between you and me. I  do  not  think

the Yuuzhan Vong could ever make peace  with  machines,  espe-cially  thinking

ones-or the people who use them."

"That's an interesting thing to tell me," Corran said.

" You mean that you and I may have to fight after all?"

"Not you and I-not unless it is  by  your  choice.  But  our  peoples..."

Harrar shook his head. "I see no end to the war here."

"Well, we've only just arrived," Corran said.  "Maybe  there's  something

neither of us is seeing."

"Perhaps."

They sat in silence for a moment, Corran slipping  into  reverie  of  the

battle for Ithor and the terrible thing that the Yuuzhan Vong had done to  the

garden of the galaxy.

What if Harrar was right? What if there was no way to make peace with the

Yuuzhan Vong?

He sighed, rose, and looked around the edge of the cave until he saw what

he was looking for-a slope that kept going up.

"Where are you going?" Harrar asked.

"I want to check out what's up above our happy-home-to-be," Corran  said.

"Don't want any nasty monsters or giant bugs coming down  to  eat  us  in  the

night."

"You've more experience with wild planets than I."

"Doesn't seem too wild to me, this planet,"  Corran  said,  not  entirely

certain what he meant.

"Well. Natural planets then. Nonbioformed worlds."

"I think this world is bioformed," Corran replied. "I think it  bioformed

itself."

"Then you believe the  planet  itself  is  alive,  sentient,  as  Yu'shaa

claims?"

"That's the rumor. That's what your shaper is here to find out, right?"

"Among other things. I'm not entirely certain  I  under-stand  Nen  Yim's

interests."

Three different castes, three different agendas, Corran thought.

They reached the top of the ridge in a few moments, which  gave  them  an

excellent view of the valley below. In fact,  Corran  could  see  the  wrecked

Sekotan ship, which was good. If anyone came looking from the air, that's what

they would spot, and they would be near should such a search come.

But not too near if the searchers were unfriendly.

"What is that?" Harrar asked.

Corran turned and looked the other way.

The priest wasn't pointing. He didn't have to.  Rising  from  the  forest

were three gigantic identical metal vanes. They looked to be  at  least  three

hundred meters tall. They were utterly familiar, but it still took him a  long

moment to recognize them. When he did, he felt suddenly light-headed.

"I'm not sure," he lied.

"Perhaps we should investigate." Did Harrar sound suspicious?

"Not today," Corran said. "It'll be dark in a few hours, and  we'll  want

to have the important stuff moved up here by then."

"Very well."

He was just delaying the inevitable, he knew. But given  Harrar's  little

speech just now, when the Yuuzhan Vong did figure out what those  vanes  were,

they weren't going to be very happy. Not happy at all.

He wanted a little time to prepare for that.

Wedge had  a  hurried  conference  via  hyperwave  transceiver  with  his

commanders, and then began transmitting battle plans. Their only hope now  was

to do the very  thing  they  had  begun  as  a  feint-knock  out  one  of  the

interdictors. If they tried to run, the ships would just follow them.

"We'll line up for the outsystem interdictor," he said.

"Spoke formation. We'll cut a fire lane and hope some of the starfighters

can get there in time. Pick your squadrons, commanders."

"Wedge, do you see that?" Pash Cracken asked excitedly. He  had,  and  he

didn't believe it. More than half the ap-proaching insystem force was dropping

away from the fight. The interdictor was still there, and a healthy  force  to

guard it, but now the fight was suddenly more or  less  even.  What  were  the

Yuuzhan Vong up to?

"Five minutes until maximum firing range, sir," Cel reported.

"Very good," he said, still staring at the monitor.

The retreating ships increased their speed  and  suddenly  vanished  into

hyperspace.

"What in the space lanes-?" he wondered.

Suddenly he felt a little smile carve itself on his face, and he vented a

brief laugh.

"Sir? "Cel asked.

"This worked better  than  we  ever  dreamed  it  would,"  he  explained.

"They're so convinced this is a feint they've sent half their ships  someplace

else."

"I wonder where?"

"Who cares? The odds are almost even, now. Attack groups, lining  up  for

an insystem run. Ithor, you take the outside."

The massive ships began turning their backs  to  the  out-system  forces,

which were now greater than those toward the shipyards.

"Accelerate half speed," he said.

"New estimation for maximum firing range, two min-utes," Cel said.

"Thank you." The Yuuzhan Vong in the outer system seemed  to  be  holding

their ground, perhaps suspecting he wanted them to  abandon  the  interdictor.

That was fine; he didn't want a two-front battle.

He continued to study the  tactical  readouts,  and  saw  something  else

strange. Some of the coralskippers were breaking formation,  streaming  toward

the insystem interdictor, probably anticipating his push for it.

Then he saw that wasn't what they were doing at all. They  were  dropping

into its artificial gravity well at steep angles.

"They're doing the Solo Slingshot!" Lieutenant Cel I exclaimed.

Even as she said it, the first of the  skips  slingshoted  around  |  the

massive spicule, whirling with  terrific  speed  toward  the  Alliance  battle

group.

"Minimum range."

"Fire when ready. Clear a lane to  the  lead  capital  ships."  Laserfire

stretched out between the two fleets, and plumes of  plasma  rushed  to  greet

them. The coralskippers, mean-while, were arcing in with  unnatural  speed  on

parabolic vectors that did not cross the fire lanes being opened.  That  meant

the enemy starfighters were going to be in the heart of the fleet  in  just  a

few moments.

"Tell the starfighters to drop formation as needed.  I  don't  know  what

they're doing, but it can't be good."

"I'm never going to let Dad forget this," Jaina grumbled.

"He taught them a new trick!"

And not a bad one. The skips were screaming down into the  middle  fleet,

and at twice their usual speed, speeds the starfighters couldn't  match,  with

the possible exception of the A-wings. In the  squadrons  under  her  command,

that meant the Scimitar Squadron.

"Is that some new sort of  skip?"  Alema  Rar  asked.  "Some-thing  looks

strange about them."

"Look like plain old skips to me," Jaina replied. She watched as a  clump

of skips tore past Wraith Squad-ron, hammering them hard and zooming past them

before the Wraiths could get off more than a couple of shots.  And  now  their

trajectory was bringing  them  into  Twin  Suns  territory,  where  they  were

escorting Mon Mothma.

She did a quick calculation.

"Twin Suns, on my  mark,  turn  to  point  oh-oh-seven-one  and  go  full

throttle. Scimitar Leader, we're only going to get a few shots at them as they

go past. Then they're yours, if you can catch them."

"Turn our tails to the enemy?" Ijix Harona asked incredulously.

"They'll overshoot  you  before  you  reach  full  accelera-tion,"  Jaina

explained. "Then you'll be behind them at al-most matching speed."

"Copy, Twin Leader," Harona replied. "I understand. Shouldn't have asked.

"

"What about our tails?" Twin Two asked.

"On my mark, tendi maneuver. Three, you're the fan."

"Copy."

"Copy," Jag said. "We've got it."

Now they  were  building  toward  full  acceleration,  flying  along  the

projected flight path of the fast skips. She could almost feel them coming  up

behind. Three, two-

"Go! "she said.

Three cut his jets and flipped around, firing. Since  she  and  Two  were

still under acceleration, he was quickly positioned as a shield  between  them

and the approaching skips.

After the skips got past him, they had time for a single  quick  shot  at

Jaina and her wingmate. She, on the other hand, had built up speed approaching

two-thirds that of the skips, so she had the leisure for quite a few shots  at

them once they were past her and before they were out of range.

She got one in her sights and used a proton torpedo while it  still  made

sense, then needled it with laserfire until the torp got  there  and  blew  it

into molten slag.

Jaina narrowed her eyes. There was something strange. The vessel she  had

just destroyed looked like every other she had ever put her  sights  on-except

that something was trailing behind it.

"Twin One," Rar asked, "did you see what that was attached  to  it?"  Her

tone very much said, "I told you so."

"Don't  know,"  Jaina  replied.  "I  didn't  really  see  it  until   the

detonation. Looked like a tail."

"Skips don't usually have tails," Rar responded.

"It might have been a cofferdam."

"Mine's got one, too," Jag said. "I thought I saw some-thing bleeding out

of it."

Stifling an uneasy feeling, Jaina used lasers as the skips pulled  ahead,

and nailed one right through the dovin basal. In the flare she saw  that  this

one had a tail as well. Or a big sack of some sort, now empty.

Several more skips flared as they approached the A-wings. Now  the  skips

had a choice. They could either retain their speed, but end up with A-wings on

their tails, or they could...

"They're slowing down," Jag said.

"Yep. Scimitars, break off. You don't want them behind you now. Come back

to the party."

"Copy, Sticks," Harona confirmed.

The A-wings peeled out of  formation  and  scattered.  Jaina  dropped  in

behind a skip and started firing, lasers only. The skip juked and jinked,  its

dovin-basal-generated voids absorbing her shots. So intent was she on  getting

the skip firmly in her sights that she almost didn't see the  thing  in  time.

Her reflexes did, though, yanking at the stick as what she thought was a half-

meter-wide chunk of rock was about to smash through her cockpit.  She  rolled,

and it scraped centimeters from her screen.

It kicked as it went by.

Cursing silently, she chinned her microphone. " Be advised,  Mon  Mothtna

control. The skips are dropping grutchins."

Grutchins were insectlike creatures the Yuuzhan Vong had  developed  that

could survive for a time in vacuum. Their mandibles secreted  a  solvent  that

could cut through hull metal.

"That explains the suicide runs," Jag  said.  "There  must  be  grutchins

everywhere, and the fleets haven't even en-gaged. They're probably  going  for

the Star Destroyers."

"Advised," the voice of control said.

Jaina, meanwhile, had flown straight into one of the release trails.  She

kept up a steady stream of laserfire, blazing any of  the  bugs  that  got  in

front of her. The remaining skips suddenly broke formation,  curving  up  from

her operational horizon.

Something thumped against her hull, and Cappie, her astromech, reported a

grutchin on the hull. Snarling, Jaina pulled the stick, hard, and  pushed  the

drive to maximum, then rolled like crazy, trying to detach it before it  could

start making a meal of her starfighter.

Why couldn't the Yuuzhan Vong use normal weapons?

Concussion missiles, lasers. Why did  it  always  have  to  be  miniature

volcanoes and giant bugs?

To her satisfaction, her particular bug-nemesis of the  moment  lost  its

grip and fried on the way through her ion trail. In the meantime,  of  course,

one of the skips had taken the opportunity to latch onto her tail, so  now  it

was volcano time...

"We've got close to two hundred grutchins on the hull, sir," Cel informed

him.

"Electrify it," Wedge said.

"They've already tried, sir. It's not working."

"Not working-great." Yes, the Yuuzhan Vong were adapting. Not good.

"Seal off the outer sections and get people in vac suits with blasters in

there."

Of course, that wouldn't stop them in the engine areas. The Yuuzhan  Vong

capital ships had drawn up in a defensive formation and were no longer pushing

forward. Wedge had his ships nearly stationary as well, and  both  sides  were

keeping their starfighters close, the grutchin carriers aside. For the moment,

it was a long-range game. That would probably  change  soon-the  Yuuzhan  Vong

were waiting to see how well their grutchin stunt had worked.

When they knew, they would renew their attack.

That meant his starfighters would be free for a short time.

"Have some starfighters make close runs on our capital  ships,"  he  told

control.

"Sir, with all due respect, the grutchins are attached to us. Some of the

pilots are bound to miss, and they could easily do as much damage as the bugs.

"

"I don't want them firing. I want them to singe the things off with their

exhaust."

The officer's eyes widened. "That will take some pretty precise flying."

"Then pick the squadrons well. And fast, because  soon  we'll  need  them

against skips."

"I have him, Twin Leader," Jag said. Even as he did so, glowing chunks of

yorik coral bloomed out into the void. Jaina breathed a sigh of  relief.  That

pretty much did it for the fast-skip wave.

"Thanks, Four." She glanced down at the new battle orders scrolling.

"Uh, guys," she said. "You aren't going to believe this, but..."

TWENTY-THREE

Nen Yim glanced at Yu'shaa. He'd been working quietly on the task she had

given him, entering the genetic sequences of various flora and fauna into  her

qahsa. Now he seemed to be having trouble.

"What is it? "she asked.

"It ceased granting me admittance," he said. Somewhere in  the  distance,

something mewled, and another something chattered  a  response.  The  sky  was

clear and the air still.

"Did you try to access data forbidden to you?" Nen Yim asked.

"Not too my knowledge, Master Yim. I was merely attempting to  enter  the

freman signatures you asked me to."

"Pheromone," Nen Yim corrected. "It may be my security prohibitions  were

too broad. Let me see it."

He handed her the bulbous living memory in compliance.

"No," she said. "Because it is not keyed to you, after a time it  rejects

your entry." She examined a bit further. She could reset his temporary access,

but would only be forced to perform the same task again in a few hours.

She could key him to the qahsa, but she  hesitated  to  do  so.  She  had

stored the protocol data on Sekotan biology in it. In the wrong hands...

But the Prophet had proved himself useful, and only someone  well  versed

in the shaper's arts could understand what they found there, much less use it.

By the pattern of his  rejected  implants,  she  gathered  that  before  being

Shamed, Yu'shaa had been an intendant.

Time was of the essence. With Yu'shaa performing the  simple  tasks,  she

was making great progress with the more complex  analyses.  "Come  here,"  she

said. "I will make you familiar to it."

That done, she was able to work for a time in peace.

Until Harrar came, standing rather imperiously waiting for her attention.

She reluctantly gave it to him. If  he  knew  anything  about  shaping-and  he

certainly did-then he al-ready knew she was a heretic. If she was  to  do  her

work, there was no hiding it any longer.

"Yes? "she said.

He gave her an uncomfortable little bow of recognition.

"I was wondering where your  researches  were  leading  you,"  he  asked.

"Whether you've come to any new conclusions."

Always that question. What did he think conclusions  were,  fruit  to  be

pulled from a tree? "It's premature to say anything definitive," she said.

"I understand that," he replied softly. "But I'm hoping you will keep  me

apprised of new developments."

She could tell this approach pained him a bit. Harrar was used to  giving

orders, not cajoling. After all, short of Shimrra, the priests were the  voice

of the gods.

"There have been a few developments," she allowed, "though  they  are  at

the level of data rather than conclusion."

"Go on, please. Anything new must be worth hearing."

"But  the  telling  costs  me  time,  when  I  might  be  reaching  those

conclusions you desire."

Harrar's expression flattened.

"Jeedai Horn tells me it may be a long while before anyone  finds  us.  I

shouldn't think the hurry is so great you can't spare a few  words  concerning

your progress. After all, I did arrange this trip."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you something about that," Nen Yim said.

"Perhaps if I answer your questions, you can  answer  mine,"  the  priest

said.

Nen Yim leaned away from her work, forcing her tendrils to relax  into  a

neutral posture.

"When we first met, you  said  that  you  could  not  arrange  my  escape

yourself, for fear of being noticed."

"That is true. An escape engineered by me would have failed."

"Yet here you are; you came along. Won't that be noticed?" Harrar  seemed

suddenly to relax, as if he had expected another question,  a  more  difficult

one.

"I am believed to be on the Outer Rim, meditating over our conquest where

it began. A subordinate of mine took my ship there. I should  not  be  missed.

You arranged to make your abduction appear as a kidnapping as  well,  yes?  We

have both covered our trails."

"I give my deception only a small chance for success," Nen  Yim  replied.

"When I return to Yuuzhan Vong space,! fully expect I will be executed."

"And yet you plan to return."

"Of course. Our people must know what has been dis-covered here."

"What Ekh'm Val discovered has been quite effectively repressed,"  Harrar

pointed out. "What makes you think your discoveries will fare any better?"

"I will find a way," Nen Yim assured him.

Harrar crossed his arms and looked at her with approval, j

"You mean what you say. You see no  personal  gain  in  this  at  all.  I

believe you may be one of the most admirable people I have ever known."

"Please do not mock me."

"I do not mock you," he said, his voice suddenly a  bit  angry.  "  I  am

trying to express respect. If you reject it,  the  re-spect  remains  all  the

same. Each caste seeks to elevate itself over another,  each  domain  competes

with the others, indi-viduals betray  and  murder  one  another  in  a  blind,

groping desire for elevation. In the galactic deeps, it nearly tore us  apart.

I hoped when we had a real enemy  to  face,  we  could  turn  that  aggression

outward, and so we did, but now it comes to haunt us again. It has become more

than a habit; it has become how we live."

"Are we not taught that competition breeds for strength?" Nen Yim asked.

"Of course," Harrar answered. "But only to a point, if there is not  also

cooperation."

Nen Yim twisted her tendrils into an  ironic  mode.  "And  there  is  the

lesson of Zonama Sekot," she said. "The lesson you and I both  seem  to  agree

our people must learn." Harrar relaxed again.

"Take a seat," Nen Yim said. "I will explain what I see here  as  best  I

can."

Harrar settled into his usual cross-legged position and waited.

"The diversity of species here is quite low," she began.

"Much lower than one would expect in a natural ecosystem."

"What could cause such a thing?" Harrar asked.

"Mass extinction, for one. Some catastrophe  or  series  of  catastrophes

that served to wipe out many of the species."

"That's an interesting fact, but-"

"No, it's more than an interesting fact," she averred.

"The ecosystem functions as if it were fully diverse. Species have filled

roles they were not designed for."

"I'm not sure I entirely understand."

"After any mass  extinction,  many  ecological  niches  are  opened,  and

species take  advantage  of  these  empty  niches,  adapting  through  natural

selection to fill them and benefit from them. Eventually, after  millennia,  a

ravaged ecosystem becomes healthy again, and as diverse as the  one  that  was

impacted."

"Isn't that what you said is occurring here?" Harar asked.

"No. Not at all. For one thing, the extinctions  here  are  very  recent.

There hasn't been enough time for the sort of adaptation I speak  of  to  take

place. For another, species here are not adapting to fill  ecological  niches-

they remain adapted to their own niches, the ones they evolved  to  fill,  and

yet they also perform the  environmental  tasks  of  ex-tinct  species-for  no

benefit to themselves." She waited a moment to let him absorb  that,  enjoying

the sudden breeze and the smell it brought, a sort of dusty golden scent.

"Perhaps an example will help," she began again, "There is, for instance,

a plant with a kind of tubular blossom.  The  only  possible  way  for  it  to

reproduce is for an arthropod or other small creature to enter the tube of one

plant, and then enter that of another, carrying with it the sticky  secretions

of the first. The plant entices this insect with an edible  fluid,  nourishing

to the insect-and, I suspect from certain clues, important  to  that  insect's

life cycle."

"That makes sense," Harrar said.

"Yes, except that I can find no insect that feeds on  the  fluid.  Yet  I

have seen them pollinated,  by  another  insect  whose  primary  role  in  the

ecosystem is feeding on carrion. Its life cycle, from egg to  nymph  to  adult

revolves entirely around carrion. Yet they make time  to  enter  these  flower

tubes with enough frequency to pollinate them, at no benefit to themselves."

"Perhaps you have not yet discovered the benefit."

"If this were the only example of such behavior, I might agree with  you.

However, I find more than half the animals I have examined play roles in  this

life-web that are plainly unrelated to their life cycles and physical  design.

More in-teresting yet, I have discovered that each species practices some form

of reproduction control. When a particular sort of moss becomes scarce due  to

its consumption by a kind of beetle, the beetles begin disposing of their eggs

without fer-tilizing them. In other words, the ecosystem  of  this  planet  is

homeostatic-it seeks to remain in absolute balance. It manages to do  so  even

after enormous extinction events."

"That sounds reasonable."

"For a worldship, yes, because each life-form is engi-neered  to  play  a

certain role and the system is guided  by  intelligence-by  a  rikyam  at  one

level, and by shapers at the next. Mutations are eliminated, as is undesirable

behavior. But in the natural ecosystems I've studied from  data  collected  in

this galaxy, that's not how things normally work.  Each  in-dividual  organism

fights to maximize  the  number  and  surviv-ability  of  its  own  offspring.

Mutations come along that have advantages and are  perpetuated.  Such  systems

are in a constant state of flux; they are  not-cooperative.  The  evidence  is

that this world was once like that-like a wild planet-but it is no longer."

Harrar pursed his lips. "You're saying that  this  planet  has  something

like a dhuryam, some intelligence that links all these organisms together  and

prompts them to perform harmoniously."

"I can think of no other explanation."

Yu'shaa, who had remained absolutely silent, suddenly  spoke  up.  "As  I

prophesied," he said, "and as the Jeedai said. This is a  living  planet,  one

large organism, more than the sum of its parts. Like  a  worldship  that  made

itself. Don't you see what this planet can teach us?  Harrar,  you  were  just

decrying the competition that destroys us. It is that blind  fight  to  ascend

that leads us to treat so many of our people as Shamed."

"Can this be?" Harrar asked  Nen  Yim.  He  seemed  to  be  ignoring  the

Prophet.

"We are seeing it," Nen Yim replied. "However, I can find no clues as  to

the mechanism that binds the individual life-forms to one another.  There  are

no chemical exchanges that might explain it. The flora and fauna here are  not

equipped with communications organs like our villip, or anything even remotely

similar."

"It's the Force," Tahiri interrupted. "I can feel the ties, feel  a  sort

of constant chatter among-well, everything." Nen  Yim  focused  on  the  young

Jedi. "I have heard that you Jeedai possess telepathy like our  villips,"  she

said. "But the ones I've taken ap-examined  showed  no  signs  of  specialized

organs, either."

"No, of course not," Tahiri said, her voice  suddenly  dark.  "The  Force

binds everything together. Some creatures communicate through it. I  can  feel

what Corran is think-ing, sometimes. With Anakin it was even stronger, like...

" She trailed off. "Never mind. You'll have to take my word for it."

"And-using this Force-you  can  impress  your  will  upon  others,  yes?"

Yu'shaa said.

"Yes, on the weak-minded," Tahiri replied.  "But  I  get  no  sense  that

anything here on Zonama Sekot is being coerced into anything. It's like  every

living thing just agrees to do things this way."

"I cannot see this Force, measure it, or  test  it,"  Nen  Yim  said.  "I

cannot credit it with the effect you assert."

A stone suddenly rose from the ground, floated toward Nen Yim,  and  fell

near her feet.

"You may not know what it is," Tahiri said, "you might not be able to see

it or feel it, but you can see the results." Nen  Yim  conceded  that  with  a

small nod. Then a thought struck her with the force of a baton. "Assuming  you

are correct," she said, "yow are connected to this Force-as  no  Yuuzhan  Vong

is. And yet, in part, you are Yuuzhan Vong. What does your Force tell you this

place is? To us?"

"I've been thinking about that a lot," the  young  woman  replied.  "I've

never been able to quite put it into words until just now."

"And? "Harrar asked.

Tahiri took a deep breath. "This is where we are from," she replied.

That got even Nom Anor's attention. While the three were absorbed in  the

conversation, he'd been exploring Nen Yim's qahsa, and  had  run  across  some

very interesting things. He'd made his little speech so as not to break  char-

acter, not because he was interested. But now he stared at the young Jedi just

as Harrar and Nen Yim did.

"That's not possible," Nen Yim said.

"You asked me what I felt," the girl said. "That's it. But didn't you say

that only a few thousand years at most separate the life of this  planet  from

Yuuzhan Vong life?"

"In the case of one plant only," Nen Yim replied. "And  several  thousand

years ago we were very far  from  here.  Moreover,  the  Qang  qahsa  contains

abundant data regarding the homeworld, and this is not it."

"Was the homeworld like this one? Living, like an organism?"

"There are some legends-" Harrar began.

"Whatever the legends may say," Nen Yim pronounced, "the facts  are  that

the homeworld was an ecosystem of unchecked competition and predation. Would a

creature like the vua'sa have evolved on a world were all  of  nature  was  in

cooperation? No. The vua'sa was a vicious predator that at times multiplied so

quickly, it left deserts behind it. This competition among ourselves you speak

of is the legacy of the homeworld."

"But perhaps that was after we lost the grace of the gods," Harrar said.

Nen Yim blinked at him, and Nom Anor saw what he was certain  was  barely

concealed disgust in the shaper's expression.

"In  any  event,"  the  shaper  said,  apparently   dismissing   Harrar's

suggestion, "this conversation will not bear the fruit that further work will.

We speak of things we do not have the data to support."

"You asked the question," Tahiri said.

"Yes, and now I'm sorry that I did. If you will all please allow me to go

back to my work..."

Nom Anor expected Harrar to snap back, but instead the priest nodded  and

looked thoughtful.

What in the world was going on  here?  Were  they  actually  starting  to

believe his prophecy? Was he?

No, because he knew the source, and the source was a lie. Yes, the planet

was a curiosity, but  many  planets  in  this  galaxy  were  curiosities.  And

everything the others saw here was informed by his creche-tale of a planet  of

redemption. That filter was causing them to  see  things  in  a  very  strange

light.

Would they turn against Shimrra? They might. If Harrar did, he  might  be

able to muster a great deal of support from  the  priesthood,  and  with  this

shaper...

But no. If Harrar turned against Shimrra, it would  be  to  put  not  the

Prophet of the Shamed Ones on the polyp throne, but himself. And he was  in  a

better position to do it than Yu'shaa.

Especially if Yu'shaa never left Zonama Sekot.

And there was also the chance that Harrar already knew  Nom  Anor's  true

identity. He had caught more than one suspicious look from the priest.

"Yu'shaa?" Nen Yim said. "What are you doing?"

"I am sorry, Master," he said. "It is  just  that  today's  revelations-I

must ponder them."

"You've been of enough help today," Nen Yim told him.

"In fact, I would rather be alone for a time."

"In that case, I will meditate in the splendor of this world."

He left the clearing and began wandering vaguely uphill. There were other

things to consider. From what he had seen in her qahsa, Nen Yim had come  here

in fear of Zonama  Sekot,  prepared  to  destroy  it  if  necessary.  She  had

protocols that might be useful in that, though they were  ob-viously  untried.

They were in the shorthand and symbolism  of  the  shapers,  so  she  probably

thought he couldn't under-stand them.

What she didn't know was that he had done quite a bit of shaping himself.

As she was no ordinary shaper, he was no ordinary executor. He was certain  he

could understand and use the information if he had to.  Though  why  he  would

want to destroy the planet, he couldn't  say,  except  that  it  would  please

Shimrra.

That stopped him in his tracks.

It would please Shimrra a lot.

If into that bargain was included the deaths of Corran Horn, who  had  so

embarrassed the Yuuzhan Vong at Ithor, and Tahiri Veila, who had used her dual

nature to betray them more than once, and a rogue  priest  and  master  shaper

even now plotting against not only Shimrra but the very nature  of  everything

Yuuzhan Vong...

Shimrra might be so pleased he wouldn't have the one  who  delivered  him

these things executed, no matter what he was wanted for. So pleased that  such

a one might actually be elevated to a higher station than he had  held  before

his disgrace.

Musing on that, he continued up the hill. Harrar had mentioned  something

strange on the horizon.

He stopped when he reached the summit,  staring  at  the  enormous  made-

objects climbing into the sky, and was sud-denly shaken to his very core.

Harrar had not spent enough time with the infidels, un-like Nom Anor, who

had flown on their lifeless ships and lived in their lifeless stations. Harrar

would naturally not understand what he was seeing.

But Nom Anor knew hyperdrive field guides when he saw them, even if  they

were a thousand times larger than they should be.

But then, they would have to be, to move a planet. Something clicked into

place for Nom Anor. He sat on a stone, listening to the sounds of the  strange

world for a moment. He was alone, for the first time since they  had  crashed.

With a sigh, he released his face from the grotesque masquer that hid it.  His

contention that it was difficult to remove had been, of course, a lie.

He reached into the living pouch beneath his arm and re-moved  the  thing

he had brought with him. He must have known, somehow, in the back of his mind,

that it must al-ways come to this.

He stared at it, turning it over  in  his  hands.  It  was  a  dedi-cated

villip, linked to one other, far away. He had not used it in a very long time,

since before the disaster that had led to his exile.

He stroked it to life.

After a moment, the face of an intendant appeared on its surface, one  of

his former subordinates.

Even through the medium of the villip, Nom Anor could see the surprise.

"You were assumed dead," the man said.

"I greet you as well, Phaa Anor," he told his creche cousin.

"You might as well be dead," Phaa Anor told him.

"Shimrra  has  called  for  your  skin.  I  will  have  to  report   this

conversation, of course."

"Of course. I want you to. In fact, I want you to see  that  your  villip

comes before Shimrra himself."

"Before Shimrra?" Phaa sounded incredulous.

"Yes. Send him the message that you have heard from me. Tell him I am  on

Zonama Sekot, and that I have found his missing shaper. He will listen to  you

then. When you gain an audience, present him with your villip."

"Why should I do this for you?" Phaa asked.

"Consider. I have information so important that I believe  I  can  redeem

myself in the Supreme Overlord's eyes. Not only that,  I  believe  I  will  be

elevated for my efforts. Do you not think you will benefit  as  well,  he  who

brings these tidings?" Phaa Anor seemed to consider that for a moment.

"I will do it," he said at last.

"Do it quickly, and tell no one anything I have said save those whom  you

must convince to grant you an audience with Shimrra."

"Yes, yes," Phaa replied. Then the villip returned to its natural state.

He had probably just doomed Phaa Anor, he knew.

Shimrra would have him killed simply for knowing the planet  existed  and

was in this galaxy.

Sacrifices had to be made, however, for the good of all. And for the good

of Nom Anor.

He sealed the villip back  into  dormancy  and  its  airtight  container,

returned it to its resting place beneath his arm, and went back down the hill.

TWENTY-FOUR

Jaina throttled down and made another run  on  Man  Mothma,  dropping  to

within a meter of the  Star  Destroyer's  skin.  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  be

skimming above a vast, white, slightly curving plane. An irregular  dark  lump

appeared ahead, and she angled toward it. At the  last  instant  she  hit  her

repulsors and nosed up, washing her exhaust over the grutchin, which  released

its hold. Its charred body drifted off to join the other twenty or so she  had

flashed.

"This is actually kind of fun," she said. She would  have  to  ask  Uncle

Luke if going after womp rats was anything like this.

"Speak for yourself," Twin Two said. "I just banged a stabilizer."

"Just watch yourself. If you plow into the hull, you'll  do  more  damage

than any grutchin."

"Don't make me weepy with your concern for my wel-fare," Two replied.

"Hey, I've got a big heart... Okay, I think we're almost through here."

"Just in time for the real fun," Rar said.

"I see that."

The big ships were closing again, and space was alive with light as  they

pummeled each other. And now the rest of the skips were arriving,  not  coming

in as fast as the advance guard, but twice  as  hot.  Jaina  checked  the  new

orders.

"All right," she said. "Let's vape some skips."

"They really don't want us to get away," Wedge  mut-tered.  He'd  thought

about making a hard push for one of the interdictors so they could clear  out,

but the Yuuzhan Vong were keeping them far away and under heavy watch.

That was good, in a way-it gave him near parity  in  the  actual  combat.

Even though they had ships behind him, they weren't using  them  for  anything

but to prevent him running that way. Nor did they have enough ships to try  an

encirclement. Still, slugging things out nose to nose was an iffy proposi-tion

when numbers were this even. He hadn't come here for a fair fight-the Alliance

couldn't grow new ships like the Yuuzhan Vong could.

But a run for one of the interdictors would be suicide at this point.

"Sir," Lieutenant Cel said. "I think I've found one of the Golans."

Wedge raised his eyebrows in surprise. He'd asked her to hunt for any  of

the battle stations the Empire had once sta-tioned here-or anything else  that

was operational-but he hadn't  really  expected  her  to  find  anything.  The

shipyards were virtually gone, food for a growing Yuuzhan Vong fleet, and  the

stations had all been around the shipyards.

"Where is it?"

"Way off its orbit, if it's one of the ones we had on the charts. And its

present orbit is eccentric."

Wedge glanced at the display. "That is out there," he said.

"It may have been drifting all this time, or maybe the ship-yards put  it

there for some reason. Still, it's odd the Vong missed something that size."

"I don't know, but we missed it on the first pass, too. As you said, sir,

it's way out there."

"Is the power core still active?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then it might still have guns. We'd better check it  out-we  might  need

it."

"Are we taking the fight out there, sir? "

"Not unless I know it's working. Are the Twin Suns done with their clean-

up duty? " he asked.

"Yes, sir. They're on their way to cruiser-designate

"Get me Colonel Solo."

"Yes, sir."

Jaina's comm chirped. Much to her surprise, it was Gen-eral Antilles,  on

a closed and heavily coded channel.

"Sir?"

"I've got a task you might find a little more exciting than bug burning,"

Wedge said.

"I'm about to have my hands full, General. What do you need?"

"I need you to find Admiral Kre'fey for me."

"Admiral Kre'fey, General?" What was Wedge talking about?

"Something's wrong with the HoloNet," he explained.

"We were the advance for two more fleets. We can't contact them, so  they

haven't shown. I need you to find him, fast, and bring him here. Have him send

someone to find Pellaeon."

"Sir, won't they  come  when  they  realize  it's  the  HoloNet  and  not

something gone wrong here? " Jaina asked.

"They're not supposed to. For all they know  -  for  all  I  know  -  the

downing of the HoloNet is cover for an attack on Mon Cal or the Imps, and this

battle group is already starfood. I need you  to  let  him  know  we're  still

kicking."

"General, you want me to leave the battle?" What was her squadron turning

into, an odd-job unit? There was real fighting to do.

"A few starfighters can get out of the interdiction  cones.  Our  capital

ships can't. Still, I doubt they're going to  make  it  easy  for  you,  so  I

wouldn't worry about lack of action. Anyway,  there's  another  part  to  this

deal, if you really don't fancy leaving the Bilbringi system.  Our  long-range

sensors indicate that one of the  Golan  Two  Battle  Stations  may  still  be

operational. If things go badly here, we might be able to use it  as  a  rally

point, but I need it working. If it's not, and can't be made  to,  I  need  to

know that as well. Send one of your flights to find  Kre'fey  and  secure  the

station with the other two."

"Yes, sir."

"We're all counting on you, Colonel."

Are you sure you aren't just trying to get me out  of  the  ac-tion?  she

wondered. The numbers looked pretty even to her, since the  mass  jump  a  few

minutes before. What was Wedge so worried about?

That wasn't her concern, she decided. She had her orders. It  wasn't  the

first time she hadn't liked them; it wouldn't be the last.

She changed frequencies. "Twins,  we  just  got  new  orders.  Scimitars,

you're on your own. Good luck."

"Copy, Twin One."

"Twins, follow my lead." She led the squadron straight up from the  plane

of the ecliptic and then made a hard break for open space.

"We're running, Colonel?" Jag asked, the surprise more  than  evident  in

his usually reserved voice.

"Not exactly," she said, though it felt that way.

"We've got a head  start,"  Eight  reported.  "We've  got  pursuers,  but

they're pretty far behind."

He should have sent Scimitar, she thought. A-wings are faster.

"They'll catch up, Eight," she said.  "  Before  they  do,  I  want  some

distance from the fleets. We're splitting up. Jag, as soon  as  we're  out  of

range of that interdictor, you're taking Five and Six to the  coordinates  I'm

sending you. We'll cover you until you've made the jump."

"Jump, Colonel?"

"Yes. I don't know how secure this channel is, and  I'm  sure  somebody's

paying a lot of attention to us just now.  Make  the  jump  and  contact  your

superior there. Tell him it's all go. Do you understand?"

"Copy. What about you?"

"We've got another job to do."

"Understood," Jag said.

They were nearly clear to jump when the first  of  the  skips  closed  to

firing distance.

"Okay," she said. "Let's give them the distance to jump. Good luck, Four.

"

"Copy." Jag didn't sound happy. She sighed  and  switched  to  a  private

channel.

"Jag, I need someone I can rely on, someone with command experience.  Can

you do this, or not?"

"I don't like it. I don't like leaving you behind."

"Then go do your job and hurry back, okay?"

"Yes, Colonel."

Plasma bursts started whipping past her. "No  more  time  to  talk,"  she

said. "Go."

She rolled to port and came around. Two skips were  fol-lowing  close  on

Three. She dropped in behind one and  started  firing,  meanwhile  jinking  to

confuse her own pursuer. She hit one of her  targets  with  a  torp  and  flew

straight into the ex-panding mass of plasma and coral. When she  couldn't  see

anything, she pulled on the stick, arcing up and back...

And dropped in behind her tail. Grimly she got him  in  her  sights.  She

slipped a few shots  through  his  void  defenses,  but  apparently  none  hit

anything important, because he continued  on  after  Jag  and  his  wingmates,

firing constantly. She had picked up two more on her tail, and her  wing-mates

were busy elsewhere. The X-wing rocked as its shields took a  heavy  hit,  and

for a moment she lost the skip in her sights. Cappie squealed.

The skip was going to catch Jag before he jumped.

She fired her last torpedo and escorted it in with stutter-fire.  A  void

appeared and the torp exploded before being sucked in, as it was programmed to

do. Her laserfire riddled the skip, which erupted into an  expanding  ring  of

ions. Two more were coming up from the side. She wasn't going to  be  able  to

hold them all back.

Then Jag and his wing were gone.

Take care, Jag, she thought.

She cut hard starboard and under horizon, now more  concerned  about  the

skips behind her than any in front. She nearly ran into one she  hadn't  seen.

He was right in her sights, and she let him have it. The skip didn't  explode,

but it rolled off, obviously injured.

"I've got you, Twin Leader," Eight said.

Two explosions behind her, and she was suddenly  clear  again.  The  odds

were starting to even.

"Form up," she said. "We have to stay together, or they'll pick us  off."

Nine, in particular, was a long way from the fight.  "Nine,  that  means  you,

too."

"Sorry, Colonel. Can't do anything about it. I've lost an engine  and  my

stabilizers are shot."

"Hang on, then, we're coming for you."

But it was only a few seconds later when his X-wing flashed  out,  struck

by fire from three coralskippers. She watched, feeling hollow and  numb.  Then

she shook it off-they were even more outnumbered  now  than  before,  and  she

realized Wedge had been right. She saw on the long-range  scanners  that  even

more skips were coming her way, these slingshoting around the interdictor.

We'll be lucky if any of us survives.

She no longer felt so bad about leaving the main battle.  She  could  see

the Golan now. It was still a long way away, near the edge of Bilbringi's wide

asteroid belt.

"Let's take 'em through the rocks, people."

Moments later, they were dodging asteroids from the size  of  pebbles  to

genuine monsters. They forged in deep, and slingshotted skips  changed  course

to follow. Most had the common sense to slow down when  they  saw  where  they

were going. A few didn't, and  Jaina  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  them

pulverized against oversized rocks. Strangely, Jaina began to  relax-this  was

what Twin Suns did best, fighter-to-fighter combat in dodgy circumstances. The

yammosks handling the big fight had clearly cut these fellows loose to  battle

on their own. Bad for them.

Another advantage was that X-wing shields repelled the  small  asteroids.

Yuuzhan Vong voids actually attracted them. It wasn't a huge problem  for  the

Yuuzhan Vong, be-cause any space rock small enough  to  be  attracted  by  the

pinpoint singularities could also be eaten, but if they hit  a  big  one,  the

singularities sometimes stuck them to it. So the Twins flew tight, dodging  in

and out, letting the skips elimi-nate themselves.

Jaina's optimism grew  stronger,  but  she  knew  the  victory  was  more

illusion than anything else. They still had to reach  the  Golan  station  and

bring it on-line-if they could outrun the twenty skips still after them, which

didn't seem likely, even with them slowing down to get through the  asteroids.

If they really pushed it, they might get there with a few sec-onds  to  spare,

which wouldn't give them time  to  do  much  of  anything  with  the  station,

assuming the antique still worked. It was nowhere near  the  shipyard,  so  it

probably hadn't been used since the days of the Empire. The  guns  and  every-

thing else useful had likely been scavenged while she was still in diapers.

She clicked her comm. "Okay, Twins, here's what we're going  to  do.  Our

primary objectives were to see if the station is operational and to  bring  it

on-line if it was. I don't think General Antilles figured on  half  the  fleet

following us out here, though. We're going to get there a few seconds ahead of

them. The rest of you will cover me while I enter the docking bay, then you're

going to punch to the outer system."

"Are you saying we're supposed to leave you, Sticks?"

"With any luck, they won't see me drop in. They'll think  I  jumped  with

the rest of you."

"With all  due  respect,  Colonel,  that's  crazy,"  Two  said.  "General

Antilles needs to know the status of this station, and he needs to know  soon.

If any of you can think of a better plan, tell me now."

"Same plan, but one of us stays behind," Three  said.  "It  doesn't  make

sense it being you, Colonel."

It makes plenty of sense, Jaina thought. I  won't  send  any  of  you  on

what's probably a suicide mission. She didn't say that, though.

"It's the way it's happening," Jaina said. "The last thing I  need  right

now is an argument."

"Yes, Colonel. Understood."

She had it about right-the skips were just catching up when they  reached

the station. The others fell into com-bat formations. She  pretended  to,  and

even squeezed off a couple of shots before making her run for the docking bay.

She'd picked up a couple of friends by then, however. Three was  right  behind

them, but there were four skips on her. Jaina's heart sank. It wasn't going to

work. Even if she made the docking bay, they were going  to  notice.  She  was

grimly reaching to turn when her cockpit strobed in a flash  of  green  light,

and another.

In her headpiece, Twins Eight and Nine were cheering. Jaina made her turn

and saw why. Gigantic beams of coherent light were pumping from the  station's

turrets, slag-ging skips as if they were practice targets.

Better yet, she saw the sudden blue sheen of  shields.  "Colonel,"  Three

said, "it's just a hunch, but I'd  say  you  can  tell  General  Antilles  the

station is operational."

TWENTY-FIVE

In the night, Nom Anor felt the villip move against his chest,  signaling

an incoming communication. He lay qui-etly, wondering if he  could  leave  the

rock shelter unob-served. The Jedi slept lightly, and so  did  Harrar-besides,

despite the fact that they hadn't seen any  animals  more  dan-gerous  than  a

dhillith, the older Jedi insisted on keeping watches, and Tahiri was on  watch

at the moment. His own shift would begin  in  a  few  hours-why  couldn't  the

signal have come then?

Cursing silently, he lay there until the villip  ceased  quiv-ering,  but

did not sleep again. Shimrra did not like  to  be  ig-nored  or  delayed,  and

excuses rarely got one far with the Supreme Overlord. He felt his  last,  best

chance at recon-ciliation slipping from him.

If he could kill Tahiri without waking the others... Yes, and if  a  wish

was a dha'eh, the maw luur would all be choked. So he stayed there, trying  to

keep his muscles from twitching.

When at last his watch arrived and he took Tahiri's place on  the  outjut

above the cave, he still dared not reply to the other end  of  the  connection

until enough time had passed that he  could  be  relatively  certain  she  was

asleep. Finally, more than an hour after he took the post, he climbed a little

higher up the hill to be sure he was out of earshot of  anyone  who  might  be

awake, and once again un-sealed the bag and stroked the creature to life.

For long moments, nothing happened, but then a face ap-peared, a hideous,

distorted face.

With a faint shock he realized it was Shimrra's jester, Onimi.

"Nom Anor," the jester burbled. "Nom Anor, Nom Anor, your  reputation  we

deplore, the bumbling failed executor..."

"I must speak with  Shimrra,"  Nom  Anor  whispered  fiercely.  "Quickly,

before our enemies discover us."

"Our enemies?" Onimi burbled.  "What  fortress  will  we  ever  stand  in

together, ever, whether, sever again?"

"Tell him it concerns Zonama Sekot. Tell him-" The face suddenly  melted,

and a new, infinitely more terrifying one took its place. Nom  Anor  shivered,

and for an instant he wanted to crush the villip, throw it in a deep pool, and

return to his role as Prophet.

He thought about his disciples, his diseased, pathetic, gullible...

"Nom Anor," the villip growled, unable to actually convey  the  profound,

bone-shivering bass of Shimrra's voice but suggesting it  well  enough.  "Most

unworthy and perverse of my servants. What could you possibly want?"

"Only to serve you, Lord."

"You would have served me best to have given yourself over  to  sacrifice

after the disaster you caused on Ebaq Nine."

"I could not, Great Lord," he said. "I was  captured,  cap-tured  by  the

Jeedai. I have been their captive since that time."

"Indeed. It was very considerate of them  to  allow  you  the  use  of  a

villip."

"I secreted it upon my person. It went undiscovered."

"Then why did you not use it earlier?" the Supreme Overlord rumbled.

"I was observed, always observed. But I have won their confidence now."

"Enough," Shimrra snapped. "You mention Zonama Sekot. That world has been

destroyed."

"It has not, Dread Lord. I am upon it, along with the shaper Nen Yim  and

the priest Harrar. They have allied with the  Jeedai,  Lord  Shimrra.  Against

you. Against us."

"Harrar? You would have me take your word that Harrar is a traitor?"

"Summon him, my lord. You will find  him  absent  from  Yuuzhan'tar,  and

indeed from Yuuzhan Vong space. As is Nen Yim."

For an interminable period, Shimrra said nothing.

"Go on," he finally said.

"With me are also two Jeedai - Corran Horn, who  slew  Shedao  Shai,  and

Tahiri, the one-who-was-shaped." He took a deep breath. "Lord, Luke  Skywalker

is also here, the chief of them all, and Mara Jade Skywalker."

"On Zonama  Sekot."  The  Supreme  Overlord's  tone  car-ried  an  almost

unimaginable tinge of fear.

It almost stopped Nom Anor from going on. But he tight-ened  his  resolve

and plunged ahead. "Yes, Dread Lord. They have come to persuade the planet  to

join them against us."

"So. So." Shimrra's voice rumbled away. It returned a moment later. " You

know how to reach this planet?"

"My villip can be made to serve as a tracer.  You  may  use  Phaa  Anor's

villip to find me. A shaper can make the neces-sary modifications."

"Lead me to Zonama Sekot, Nom Anor, and you will find the gods  smile  on

you again. 7 will smile on you again."

"That is my only wish, Dread Lord. To serve you as I once did."

"I should hope you will serve me better." Shimrra paused.

"Based on our past experiences, it will  require  overwhelming  force  to

destroy this cursed planet. Much of our fleet is pres-ently engaged. Indeed, I

consider it possible, Nom Anoi;; that you may yet be a traitor trying to  lure

my fleet there so * the infidels can take Yuuzhan'tar."

"No fleet is necessary, Dread Lord. There is an  Imperial  frigate  above

this planet, and doubtless Skywalker has a' ship. Send one ship to  deal  with

them, and a landing craftto find me. That is all that is required."

"Fool," Shimrra grunted. "The problem is not  with  in-fidel  ships,  but

with the planet itself."

"The planet will not present a problem, Lord Shimrra. 1 have the means to

sabotage it. By the time your ships arrive here, it shall be occupied with its

own death."

TWENTY-SIX

Jaina's comm registered a hail,  not  on  the  battle  frequen-cies.  She

switched over.

"There you are," a voice on the other end said.

"Yes," Jaina replied. "Thanks for the assist just now. But if  you  don't

mind my asking, who in the galaxy is this?"

"My name is Erli Prann," he  replied.  "I'm  in  charge  of  this  battle

station."

"You realize you're in Yuuzhan Vong-held space, and have been for a  long

time."

"Yes. It's a long story. What's going on out there?"

"Just what it looks like. We're retaking Bilbringi.  But  things  haven't

gone exactly according to plan, and the gen-eral sent me out to  see  if  this

station is still operational. Looks like it is."

"It's in pretty good shape," Prann said proudly. "We'd be glad to  be  of

any assistance we can. If you want to come aboard, I'll show  you  what  we've

got."

"That's great," Jaina said. "Just assign me a berth."

"What about the rest of your pilots?"

"There are still Vong out there. I expect  they'll  be  headed  this  way

after that display you just put on. I think I'll keep them out there  to  help

with the defense."

"Copy," Prann said. "Come on in. Berth Seven-you'll see the beacon."

Jaina slipped her X-wing into the  docking  bay  without  a  mishap.  She

waited as the doors closed and the area outside was pressurized, then unsealed

her cockpit and stepped out onto the deck. The bay was massive, but  her  ship

was the only one she saw. It looked a little lonely in all that space. On  the

far end she noticed a lot of carbon scoring on the walls, as if there had been

an explosion of fire.

"Welcome aboard!"

Jaina looked over to see her reception committee-two humans and a Rodian,

all wearing the uniform of the old Bilbringi defense  force-dark  blue  slacks

and military-style blue jackets over gold-colored shirts.

The male human, a fellow she guessed to be about as old  as  her  father,

with hair that might have once been red but had faded to  auburn  and  silver,

came forward with his hand out.

"I'm Lieutenant Prann," he said as he shook her hand.

"We spoke a moment ago. These are my associates, Zam  Ghanol  and  Hiksri

Jith."

Ghanol was the other human, an older wiry woman  with  gray  hair  and  a

crooked nose. Jith was the Rodian. Both shook her hand.

Prann flashed her a big smile. "I really can't say how glad we are to see

you..." He glanced at her insignia.

"...Colonel?..."

"Solo," she replied.

"Solo? Not the one from the holos? Jaina Solo?"

"'Fraid so," she replied. "And I hate  to  be  rude,  but  could  we  cut

straight to the situation? I need to assess this station and report to General

Antilles as soon as possible."

"Of course," Prann said. "It's just such a surprise and such an honor. If

you'll follow me, please?"

"If you don't mind me asking, Lieutenant Prann, what in  blazes  are  you

people doing here?"

He uttered a short chuckle. "  I  suppose  that  does  require  a  little

explanation, doesn't it? We were part of a crew sent out here to overhaul  the

station." He paused as the turbolift came and they stepped into it. "You might

have noticed it's way out here."

"Yes," Jaina said. "I was wondering about that."

"In fact, we didn't know it was here for years. It was cloaked, you see."

"Cloaked?"

"Yep. The theory is that Grand Admiral Thrawn cloaked it for some reason,

back when he cloaked all of those aster-oids to blockade Coruscant. It  showed

up missing in the later inventory, but nobody could find it.  When  a  Yuuzhan

Vong invasion looked imminent, however, we wanted  every  advantage  we  could

get, of course. One of the brass guessed it might be cloaked and sent  us  out

here with an old crystal grav-trap to find it. As you can see, we did, but-our

bad luck-the invasion started while we were out here. We had taken  the  cloak

down, but didn't have the shields working. A flight of skips came out here and

pretty much fried our transport-you may have noticed the damage to the docking

bay."

Jaina nodded. The lift opened, and Prann gestured for  her  to  step  out

into the fire control area, where  several  other  sentients  waited-two  more

humans, a Twi'lek, a Barabel, and a Toydarian. Over banks of controls, through

a broad viewport, she could see the distant battle as a series of tiny winking

lights. The seeming smallness of it didn't fool her-a lot of people were dying

back there. It made her itchy to be so far away.

"Anyway," Prann went on, "we managed to get one of  the  turbolasers  on-

line and the shields up. We gunned down the skips and put the cloak back on-it

was the only thing we could think of to do. There was a whole fleet out there.

The Vong apparently thought we'd gone  to  hyperspace-seems  they  don't  know

Golans don't usually come equipped for that."

"But that was more than a year ago," Jaina said.

"You're telling me. We've just been waiting, tinkering with the  station.

Everything works fine, by now, at least those things we had the parts to  fix.

This thing has a terrific power core-had to, to run the shield for so long. We

floated a small probe out on an insulated cable so we could see what was going

on, which as you've probably guessed wasn't  much  that  was  helpful  to  our

situation-just the Vong setting up shop."

His grin broadened. "This morning, though, we swept and saw  your  fleet.

We dropped the field, hoping you would spot us.  We've  got  limited  sublight

communications, but no hyper-wave or HoloNet." He grinned again. "And here you

are." It was about then that Jaina understood something was wrong. The feeling

in the Force that she took as relief at the end of a long, dangerous isolation

was there, but seething beneath it was something hungry.

She was reaching for her lightsaber when something  hit  her,  hard.  Her

hand, midway to her weapon, suddenly re-fused to obey her  commands,  and  the

room spun dizzily. She tried to focus and use the Force, but the dizziness got

worse, and she was vaguely aware that her legs weren't holding her up anymore.

She didn't feel the deck when she hit it, but she had a strange view of  boots

and legs moving her way. She heard faraway sounds that resembled thunder,  but

which she understood to be speech. Then-Then she  woke,  strapped  down  to  a

table with some sort | of webbing, her head  pounding,  and  everything  still

doing a slow spin.

"Sorry about that," she heard Prann say.  "Sonics  leave  I  you  with  a

terrible hangover without the benefit of ever having the fun."

He was standing a meter away. The Toydarian stood across the room with  a

blaster trained on her.

"I hear Toydarians are more resistant than  most  species  to  Jedi  mind

tricks," Prann said. "I hope we don't have to test that. I'd like to  see  all

of us walk out of this healthy."

"Prann, what's going on?" she managed. "Who are you really?"

"Oh, that name's as good as any."

"What are you, Peace Brigade?"

His eyebrows squinted together. "Colonel  Solo,"  he  said,  "now  you're

hurting my feelings. That pathetic bunch of collaborationists? Hardly.  I'm  a

liberator."

"Of what?"

"Technology, actually."

"Ah," Jaina said. "You're a thief and a  smuggler."  Prann  shrugged  his

shoulders. "What I do is more like emergency salvage. I haven't taken anything

the Vong wouldn't have destroyed anyway. Remember Duro? We got some good stuff

there, in hit-and-run raids after New  Re-public  forces  pulled  out.  If  we

hadn't it would have been wasted. The Vong sure weren't going to use it."

Her head was starting to clear. "So you came here  after  the  Vong  took

Bilbringi?"

"Nope, this job was a little different. Most of my story was  true-except

that it was Vel, here, who discovered the  missing  station  in  the  shipyard

databanks. I'd heard a story that one of the Golans disappeared  right  before

the New Re-public forces invaded. A few of us got jobs in the  shipyards,  and

Vel managed to slice into the old Imperial records." He beamed.  "One  of  the

best slicers in the business."

"Ah, just average," the Toydarian replied. He didn't take  his  gaze  off

Jaina.

"He's very modest," Prann added. "Anyhow, he found an old encryption that

suggested the station had been cloaked-apparently Thrawn  was  keeping  it  in

reserve as a little surprise, but when  Thrawn  died  the  station  was  lost,

because he obviously didn't share the information with his command  structure.

We were able to reckon a general sector and calculate for drift  and  then  we

sort of-urn-borrowed a crystal grav-trap detector from the Bilbringi dry docks

to find it. After that, the story is more or less the one I already told you."

"So what do you want with me?" Jaina asked. "Why did you stun me?"

"Well, frankly, Colonel Solo, I don't want anything from you,  especially

trouble. But I need to borrow some parts from your X-wing."

"You can't all escape in a single X-wing."

"No, we can't. We're going to escape in the station itself."

"Come again?" Jaina said. "I thought you  said  it  isn't  equipped  with

hyperdrive."

"No, I said Golans aren't usually  equipped  with  hyperdrive.  This  one

wasn't, either. But how do you think we were planning  on  salvaging  a  space

station without the Bilbringi authorities noticing?"

"You brought your own drive," Jaina realized.

"Yes. We almost had it installed when the Vong showed up and torched  our

transport. Unfortunately,  the  motivator  was  still  on  the  transport.  No

motivator, no hyperdrive." He held his palms out. "So-we've been waiting."

"You can't use an X-wing motivator to jump a station  this  size,"  Jaina

pointed out.

"No, but we can cobble one together from seven."

Jaina jerked at the webbing. "Leave my squadron alone!"

"Hey, calm down," Prann said. "They're all okay. We  hit  them  with  ion

beams, hauled them in with tractor beams, and stunned them  with  sonics.  And

that wasn't easy-not with the Wookiee and that crazy Twi'lek.  Look,  I'm  not

trying to make any enemies, here."

Jaina could only stare at him in the face of such an absurd statement.

"We were hoping you would all dock," he continued, "and  make  the  whole

thing easier, but we've been working out contingencies for a while now. Not  a

lot else to do here, you know."

"Look, Prann," Jaina said, "General Antilles needs this battle station."

Prann laughed. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but we've all invested a  little  too

much in this baby to just hand it over to be destroyed. Do you know how much I

can get for the cloaker alone? No, forget it. In a few hours we'll be ready to

jump. Meanwhile, we've put the cloak back on."

"And what about me?"

"You're a bit of a problem. I know enough about  you  to  know  that  the

longer I keep you around, the better the chance you'll be able  to  use  those

Jedi powers of yours to-well, I don't know, do I, and that's the  problem.  On

the other hand, I don't want to kill Han Solo's daughter. I  mean,  I  respect

the guy, and I know he's already been through a lot."

"You're just afraid he would hunt you down and kill you," Jaina said.

"Yeah, that, too. Look, I'm a businessman-this is  business.  Once  we've

got the hyperdrive working and jump  out  of  here,  we'll  put  you  all  off

someplace safe - with your starfighters. Okay?"

"No," Jaina said, "not okay. Who are you going to sell your  cloaker  to,

Prann? The Vong? Because they're going to be the only ones around to buy it if

you don't help us here."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Prann said.

"I mean, there's still plenty of market for this sort  of  thing  in  the

Corporate Sector-heck, in lots of places. A small planetary government is what

I'm looking for, one afraid they'll  soon  need  negotiating  power.  If  this

battle here goes sour, it'll only make the market that much better."

"Until  there  is  no  market,"  Jaina  snapped.  "Until  the  Vong  have

everything, because Huttoads like you are still trying to make a profit rather

than doing what they can to help us win."

Prann's smile vanished. "We sat out here for a year surrounded by  Vong,"

he said angrily, "in constant fear that they would find us. Sure,  they  can't

see us when we have the cloak on, but we can't see them either.  Every  single

time we pushed out the probe we all got the shakes. And who knew what the Vong

have that might detect us at any second? Do you know  what  it's  like  to  be

surrounded by that kind of pressure every day for a year and not be able to do

a single thing about it?" His face was  getting  redder,  and  his  voice  was

rising. "After what we've been through-sister, you can keep  your  platitudes.

I'm taking this station, I'm selling it, and I'm going to take  my  share  and

retire to some little backwater so far away the Vong  won't  reach  it  in  my

life-time and sip cool drinks on a hot beach."

"There's no place that far away," Jaina said.

"I'm willing to look," Prann replied.

Jaina focused the Force on the Toydarian.  "He's  crazy,"  she  told  the

Toydarian. "Stun him and help me out of this."

The Toydarian blinked, looked briefly confused, and then laughed.

Prann smiled, too, his tirade apparently over. "So it's true, then. Good.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going  to  help  get  those  motivators  coupled

together. Vel, I've changed my mind. Take her to fire control  and  watch  her

there. I can't spare you just to be a guard during this. Just-keep an | eye on

things, and don't let her talk to anyone."

"I want to see my pilots," Jaina said.

"After we've made the jump," Prann told her. "Not before."

With that he left the room.

TWENTY-SEVEN

"Nothing," Corran grumbled, folding down to rest on a log. "I  must  have

looked for ten kilometers in every direction, and there's no sign of natives."

"Maybe there aren't that many," Tahiri  said,  reaching  up  to  pick  an

oblong fruit with a serrated corona of leaf at the top. They had dubbed  it  a

pingpear, and it was one of the eight fruits that Nen Yim  had  identified  as

edible and nutritious. Since  their  food  stores  were  limited,  Corran  had

insisted that they eat native food when possible.  The  gathering  expeditions

also gave them an opportunity to talk  away  from  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  without

leaving them too long unobserved.

"Or maybe we had the misfortune to crash in the  one  uninhabited  region

they have left," Corran said. "It doesn't matter-we can't stay  here  forever.

I've been trying to think of a way to attract the attention of  that  Imperial

frigate, if nothing else."

"Any thoughts on how to go about that?"

He nodded. "Yes. I'll have to go to the one place I've been avoiding."

"Oh. The giant hyperdrive."

"Right."

"Which you don't want the Yuuzhan Vong to  know  is  a  giant  hyperdrive

because you're afraid it will disillusion them somehow."

"You  get  two  marks,"  Corran  said.  "  But  it's  the  only  sign  of

civilization around. There might be someone tending it.  Failing  that,  there

might  be  other  things-a  hyperwave,  for  instance,  or  even  a   subspace

transceiver. And Harrar's been after me to check it out, anyway."

"How do you think he'll react when he finds out what it is?"

"You tell me."

She thought about that for a moment, trying to recall how  she  had  felt

when she'd gone to the top of the ridge a few days before.

She held up the pingpear. "It's like discovering a perfect piece of fruit

has a nasty worm in it-after you've already taken a few bites."

Corran nodded. "That's what I figured. Still, we have  to  do  something,

and I can't imagine he'd let me go without him, not as curious  as  he's  been

about it."

"How far away do you think it is? "

"I eyeball it at about twenty klicks."

"Yeah, that's what I figured, too," Tahiri said. "So when do we start?"

"We don't," Corran replied. "Harrar will go with me. I need you  to  stay

and look after the other two."

"Again? I'm sick of baby-sitting.  Don't  you  trust  them  yet?  They're

completely moon-eyed over this place, both of them. Harrar is the one we ought

to worry about."

"I do worry about Harrar. That's why I'm keeping an eye on him.  But  the

other two-they're still the enemy, Tahiri. No matter how well we  seem  to  be

getting along with them as individuals, we can't lose sight of the  fact  that

our goals might be quite different."

"I understand that. It's just that Nen Yim and the  Prophet  are  boring.

All they do is poke at bugs and twigs all day. Why don't you let me go and you

stay here, if you think someone has to?"

"Because this is how I want it, that's why. Brush up on  your  meditation

technique and practice your lightsaber footwork."

"That's all I've been doing for the past week."

"Well, life is hard," Corran said, more sarcastically than he needed  to.

"Sometimes you actually have to spend a week without going  into  battle.  I'm

sure you can handle it."

"Yes, sir," Tahiri replied, unenthusiastically. She felt a knot  of  hurt

and resentment in her belly. Why was Corran treating her this way? Couldn't he

see it hurt?

"So Harrar and I will start in the morning," he went on.

"It shouldn't take us more than a day or a day and a half of walking, but

I can't say how long it will be before I figure out if there's anything useful

there-maybe an hour, maybe days. I need you to stay alert here."

"For what? Vicious fruit?"

Corran looked up, his eyes sharp. "I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "But  the

longer we're here, the itchier I feel."

"Maybe you're bored, too."

"It's more than that. I've got a bad feeling about this whole  deal.  But

there's nothing I can do about it until I have some way to contact Luke."

"If he's still here."

"I think he is. I get occasional glimpses."

"So do I," Tahiri said, "especially of Jacen. But the Force doesn't  care

how far away they are. They could be back on MonCalamari."

"That's not how it feels," Corran said. "You're going to  have  to  trust

I've learned a thing or two over the years."  The  angry  tone  startled  her.

"Corran, I know you're a more experienced Jedi than I am."

"Not the impression you give."

"I'm sorry if I-" The knot, growing since she had first seen  him  again,

exploded. She felt warmth on her face and realized to her utter shame that she

was crying.

"Sometimes I don't express myself very well, I think," she said. "I mean,

I've just integrated two personalities. I don't have this all worked out yet."

"Hey, easy," Corran murmured. "I misunderstood you, that's all."

"No, no-Corran, you're my hero. Ever since that time when you and  Anakin

and I-I thought we were friends, and then-" She stopped. She was just sounding

stupid.

"Look, Tahiri..."

"I need more training," she blurted out. "Special training. Can't you see

that? Why haven't you ever offered - I mean you know so much more than I do...

" She trailed off, both horrified and relieved that she had finally said it.

He just stared at her for a second. "I never imagined you wanted anything

like that from me."

"Well..." How could someone so smart be so stupid?

"Why wouldn't I? I need some sort of guidance, Corran. I might seem  like

I know what I'm doing, but I don't."

"I'm not a Master, Tahiri," Corran said gently. "There  are  Masters  who

would be happy to train you."

"You have half a chance of understanding me," Tahiri said. "They don't."

"I think you're selling them short."

"Maybe." She thrust her chin out defiantly. "Does  that  mean  you  don't

want me?"

"No," Corran said. "But it's not that simple. We'd  have  to  ask  Master

Skywalker. And at the least it means you'll stop talking back and  do  what  I

say. Do you understand that?"

"You mean you'll take me on?"

"Provisionally, since there are no Masters around, and until I get Luke's

yes or no on the matter-if you agree to those conditions."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I agree, then."

"Good. Then you stay here with Nen Yim and the Prophet. The end."

"Okay."

Nen Yim examined the thing she had grown. It was, to all  appearances,  a

qahsa. The differences between it and the usual item  were  invisible  to  the

naked eye. She reached for it, but the faint sound  of  approaching  footsteps

gave her pause.

It was the shaped Jedi, of course. She was never far from Nen Yim, always

watching. It had been a source of irrita-tion, at first,  but  now  it  seemed

somehow less of a bother. The young human's insights had proven valuable,  and

had even prompted this experiment.

"Hello," the shaper said.

"You seem in a good mood," Tahiri replied. The corners of Nen Yim's mouth

turned up. "That may change in a moment. I'm about to try  something  new.  It

will probably fail."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I don't see how it could be, but anything is possible."

"Maybe you  should  wait  until  Corran  and  Harrar  get  back,"  Tahiri

suggested.

"They only left a few hours ago," Nen  Yim  said.  "They  could  be  gone

indefinitely. I think this should be safe." Tahiri turned a curious eye toward

the experiment. "What is it, exactly? It looks like a qahsa."

"It is, so far as it goes. But I grew it with  modifications."  The  Jedi

sat cross-legged near her. "What sort of modifications?"

"Your talk of the Force binding the life of this world and serving as its

means of intercommunication interested me. And yet, since  Yuuzhan  Vong  life

does not appear  in  the  Force,  I  could  think  of  no  way  to  test  that

possibility. How-ever, it occurred to me that if the ecosystem of  this  world

is truly self-regulating, it must have some sort of memory-it  needs  to  know

what happened yesterday and last cycle to plan for tomorrow. Furthermore, that

memory must be shared somehow by all of its constituents."

"I'm with you so far."

Nen Yim indicated a ten-legged arthropod she had en-closed in a nurturing

membrane. "Even if the memory were stored at a  molecular  level,  a  creature

this size could not possibly carry enough  to  be  useful,  so  I  reason  the

planet's central memory core lies elsewhere, but that any living thing-even  a

cell-must be able to contact it, perhaps through this Force of yours."

"Interesting. And you've found a way to test that?"

"I think so." She glanced up at the young Jedi. "To ex-plain, I may  have

to speak of things  that  will  upset  you."  Tahiri's  eyes  narrowed.  "This

concerns my own shaping, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Goon."

"There is a protocol-the protocol  of  Qah-which  is  used  to  integrate

manufactured or borrowed memories into the brain tissue of Yuuzhan Vong  life.

We use it often, mostly for rather mundane purposes-teaching ships to fly, for

in-stance. But we also use it at times to enhance our own memo-ries,  to  gain

skills or knowledge without having  to  learn  them.  In  the  past,  on  rare

occasions, we've used the protocol to re-place entire personalities."

"Which is what you tried to do to me."

"Exactly. But the protocol of Qah did not work  on  your  human  tissues,

naturally-Yuuzhan Vong and human tissue are not  sufficiently  compatible  for

that. So instead we used your own brain cells to create a sort  of  human  Qah

cell, but filled with Yuuzhan Vong information. It was a hybrid cell."

"And that worked," Tahiri said.

"Correct," Nen Yim said. "In terms of your brain tissue,  you  are  quite

literally half Yuuzhan Vong. We did not im-plant merely memories, but also the

cells that carried them." Tahiri's eyes narrowed. Nen Yim had learned that was

a sign of danger.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

"No. I mean, yes,  but  it's  like  picking  a  scab.  In  fact,  there's

something I've been meaning to ask you."

"I attend," Nen Yim said, cautiously.

"I need to know-was there a real Riina?"

Nen Yim blinked. What an interesting question-but of course she would  be

curious about that. "I'm sure there must have been," she said. "The  name  was

probably changed-names are easy to change-but the details of  your  child-hood

undoubtedly came from a real person.  Such  memories  might  be  generated,  I

suppose, but there would be no reason to when they could  be  donated  by  any

living Yuu-zhan Vong."

"Is she-dead?"

"I've no idea. Mezhan Kwaad supplied the memory data. Only she could know

who the donor was-and of course, she's  in  no  position  to  tell  you."  Her

tendrils curled with cu-riosity. "Did it truly work? You remember being  in  a

creche, and so on?"

Tahiri nodded. "Some things like  crystal,  others  muddier.  I  remember

once, my creche-mates-P'loh and Zhul-we took one of the scrubbing  korsks  and

put it in the com-munal food area. It..."

"Ate all the i'fii," Nen Yim finished, feeling a strange twisting in her.

"Yes," Tahiri said. She frowned. "How did you know?"

"Do you remember an incident involving a damaged fighting n'amiq?"

"I... wait. You mean those lizard-bird things the warriors used to  fight

against each other? I... I found one once. One of the warriors  had  abandoned

it in the grand vivarium because it wouldn't  fight.  It  was  injured  and  I

nursed it back to health. Then one of my creche-mates took it and fought it...

I got there in time to see it die. It was torn to shreds. I  thought  it  kept

looking at me, pleading for help."

The chill deepened.

"What's wrong?" Tahiri asked.

Nen Yim sighed. "Those are my memories."

Tahiri stared at her for a long moment without speaking, as if trying  to

see through her skin. Nen Yim was glad for that, because she  had  to  collect

her own thoughts. Median Kwoad, she thought, may the gods devour you  twice  a

day.

Tahiri finally dropped her lids over her green eyes.  She  seemed  to  be

trying to compose herself.

Or perhaps she was about to kill Nen Yim.  The  thought  of  her  onetime

tormentor sharing the same childhood memories might well be too much for her.

But when Tahiri looked back up, her gaze held only curi-osity.  "Whatever

happened to P'loh?" she asked.

Relief spread down Nen Yim's backbone. "She was  as-signed  to  Belkadan,

and killed there," she replied.

"And Zhul?" "Zhul is an adept on the worldship Baanu Ghezk, and so far as

I know is well."

"And the young warrior who watched our dormitories in primary shaping?"

We, Nen Yim noted. She said we, as if...

"Killed taking Yuuzhan'tar. They say he died bravely,  crashing  into  an

infidel ship even as his own disintegrated."

Tahiri rubbed her forehead. "He was nice," she said.

"Yes, if such can be said of a warrior."

"As if I wasn't confused enough," Tahiri murmured.

Now I find out I have friends on both sides of the war who died. Maybe  I

even killed one of them."

Nen Yim didn't have a response to that.

"I have a lot of questions to ask you," Tahiri said. "But now  isn't  the

time. I need-I need to absorb this."

"As do I'll knew no more than you."

Tahiri looked up. "I forgave you, you know. Even before I knew this."

"I didn't ask for that."

"I know."

"But I'm glad."

For another stretched moment, they sat together. Tahiri was the first  to

speak.

"Uh... you were telling me about the qahsa."

Nen Yim nodded, happy to return to a subject she could get a grip on.  "I

extracted nerve cells from Sekotan life and modified them as your  cells  were

modified. It was an easier task, because Sekotan life is  genetically  similar

to our own. I hope, through them, to gain  access  to  the  memories  of  this

world, as I might access a qahsa."

"But if those memories are transmitted through  the  Force,  and  Yuuzhan

Vong life is outside the Force-"

"Consider, Tahiri. Your brain contains Yuuzhan  Vong  implants.  Yet  you

still sense and use the Force."

"Yes!" Tahiri said. "And when my personalities were  in-tegrating,  Riina

used a lightsaber, like a Jedi." She peered at the qahsa. "So this could work.

"

"It could. If one of the many assumptions I've made doesn't turn  out  to

be false. But I suppose now I shall see."

"May I watch?"

"I would be honored."

Nen Yim hesitated no longer, but reached for the qahsa  and  joined  with

it.

For an instant, there was nothing, and then the world seemed to  shatter.

Images and data roared through her mind, stars and vacuum, the feel of life on

her skin, the tear of wind across  her  polar  regions.  Feelings-fear,  pain,

despair, joy, all on a scale that dwarfed the tiny Yuuzhan Vong  brain  trying

to interpret it. The images came faster,  running  together  burning  in  her,

casting light into every corner of her brain. Please,  slow  down,  this  will

kill me, and I will mm understand.

It was something like trying to access the eighth cortex, but  both  less

painful and, she understood, more dangerous. Her thoughts were  disintegrating

under the onslaught. Nen Yim was vanishing. Something else was  hollowing  her

out. A god was eating her from the inside.

Nen Yim clasped the qahsa  and  a  look  of  vast  surprise  twisted  her

features. Then her body jerked strangely and she fell  over,  convulsing,  the

qahsa still gripped between her fingers.

"Nen Yim!" Tahiri cried, starting forward. She reached to  help  her,  to

pull the thing  from  her  hands,  but  stopped.  She  didn't  know  what  was

happening. Anything she did might make it worse.

Of course if she did nothing, Nen Yim might  die,  she  thought,  as  the

shaper's convulsions grew more and more violent.

Carefully, she reached out in the Force. Nen  Yim  herself  was  a  blank

slate, as usual, but in the qahsa, something was happening. It was buzzing and

humming with power...

Tahiri could feel the flow of it from all around her,  a  million  voices

speaking at once.

Black blood began to dribble from Nen Yim's nostrils.

Okay, Tahiri thought. I have to do something.  Breaking  Nen  Yim's  bond

with the qahsa couldn't make things worse-it was already killing her.

She reached for the qahsa, hoping the Force would guide her.

When she touched it, a world struck her down.

Suddenly, the stream of sight and  smell  and  tactile  data  slowed  and

distilled. The noise dropped away, and Nen Yim found herself in the middle  of

a quiet moment, a totality rather than a sequence.

She found herself understanding.

And she knew the secret of Zonama Sekot.

She felt like laughing and crying at once.

When Tahiri came to, Nen Yim was daubing her forehead with some  sort  of

damp tissue. It smelled minty.

"What happened?" she mumbled through a tongue that felt  like  a  bloated

grysh-worm. Her head hurt. Her whole body hurt.

"I'm not certain," the shaper admitted. "When I  ceased  contact  with...

when it was over, I found you unconscious."

"I was trying to help you. I touched the qahsa, and there was this light-

that's all I remember." Her eyes held concern. "Are you okay?"

Nen Yim nodded. "As I have never been."

"So you made contact with Zonama Sekot?"

Tahiri's words seemed slow, after what Nen Yim had just been through. The

whole world seemed slow, and wonderful. "Not with  the  living  consciousness,

no," she said. "I think you are correct-one must have some connection  to  the

Force for that. But the memories-the memories alone  nearly  overwhelmed  me."

She stood. "I must beg your indulgence. I must meditate  now.  But  I  think-I

believe I have the solution."

"To what?"

Nen Yim felt her mouth pull in an unaccustomed smile.

She still felt as if in a dream. "Everything that concerns us," she said.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Nom Anor drew himself quietly deeper into  the  forest  above  the  cave.

Neither of the females had noticed him. From his angle he couldn't  see  them,

but he'd heard most of their conversation. If only he'd understood more of it.

What did Nen Yim mean when she said that she had learned  the  secret  of

Zonama Sekot?

As he watched, the shaper walked into view, carrying her qahsa, and  then

out of view again, into the deep boles of the bottomland.

Tahiri did  not  appear,  apparently  respecting  Nen  Yim's  desire  for

solitude.

After a moment, Nom Anor slipped up the ridge, traveled fifty  meters  or

so in the direction he believed Nen Yim had gone, and then descended the  hill

after her. Nen Yim gazed at the trees around  her,  immersed  herself  in  the

lisping of wind through their leaves and the insistent  purr  of  insects  and

chatter of animals. She  felt  something  tight  in  her  relax,  release  her

inhibitions and prejudices, and saw the  living  world,  at  last,  as  alive.

Finally she felt herself as alive.

For so many years, she had been the quintessential  ob-server.  Even  her

actions-even the extreme actions that had brought her to this place-had merely

been in the service of observation. And yet she had never thought  of  herself

as part of what she observed, as a piece of the great  mystery  that  was  the

world. She was always outside-outside her people, her caste, her companions.

But now she felt in the center, as everything was its own center, and she

was... happy.

"It's what we always should have been," she murmured to herself.  "Zonama

Sekot is..."

"Am I interrupting you?"

She shook herself from her reverie, and then smiled. It was the Prophet.

"You knew all along," she said. "Somehow, you knew all along."

"You have discovered something," the Prophet said.

"Something wonderful," Nen Yim replied. "I'm eager to share it  with  all

of you."

"Is it about our redemption?" he asked. To her surprise, she  thought  he

sounded mildly sarcastic.

"It is," she assured him. "And not merely for the Shamed  Ones,  but  for

all of us. But it will not be easy. Shimrra will resist the truth."

"You're beginning to sound like me," the Prophet said.

"I suppose I am," she replied. "But when you know the truth..."

"Truth is an entirely relative  thing,"  the  Prophet  said,  stepping  a

little closer. "And sometimes not even that." He reached toward his face.

"Why are you removing your masquer?"

"If this is the day of revelation, let us all stand before  Zonama  Sekot

as we truly are. But you've interrupted  me.  I  was  speaking  of  truth.  My

truths, for instance, were all carefully crafted lies."

His voice had harshened as the masquer unpeeled from  his  face.  "What?"

she asked. But then the masquer dropped away to reveal,  not  the  face  of  a

Shamed One, but the perfectly normal face of an executor, except that  one  of

his eyes-She gasped, and flung up her shaper's hand. In an instant, the  whip-

sting hissed from her finger toward the face, but he was faster, much  faster,

bringing his arm up so that the sting drilled through it. He gasped,  snarled,

and quickly ro-tated his arm, wrapping the whip-sting around it so  she  could

not withdraw for another strike.

Then he set his feet and yanked her toward him. She saw the pupil of  his

eye dilate impossibly wide, and then it spit at her.

Plaeryin bol,she had time to think, before the poison struck her.

Her muscles contracted instantly, and she felt her heart-beat roaring  in

her ears as she thudded to the ground in what seemed  like  slow  motion.  The

sounds of the forest seemed,  conversely,  to  rise  in  pitch,  and  she  saw

everything as through a distorted sheet of mica. Her body  flopped  until  she

was on her back, and she found the executor stand-ing over her. She  could  no

longer make out the features of his face.

"Know you..." she managed.

"I'm flattered," he replied. "We met only once, I think."

"Why?" Her lips were numb, the words torture to form, but she knew if she

could keep him talking, the reagent im-plants in her body would manufacture an

antidote to the toxin. She noticed he had released the  sting  from  his  arm.

"Why?" he repeated, moving away, apparently searching  for  something  on  the

ground. "You don't have long enough for me to explain it, my dear."

"But Zonama Sekot. I... the answer."

"I really couldn't care less," the false Prophet said.

"You've gone mad, you and Harrar. Whatever future you would  launch  from

here, I don't think it would be one I care for. There is only so much a people

can change before they lose themselves."

"Already... lost." She needed to make him understand.  The  Yuuzhan  Vong

had lost their way long before coming to this galaxy.

"I really don't think that's your judgment to  make,"  the  Prophet  said

diffidently. She remembered his real name, suddenly. Nom Anor. "After I'm done

with you," he con-tinued, "Zonama Sekot won't be far behind. You see, you gave

me access to your qahsa, and contrary to what you probably think,  I  am  well

able to understand its contents."

"No. You're mad." She was  feeling  a  little  stronger.  Sen-sation  was

returning to her extremities. She felt her whip-sting, trailing on the ground,

unretracted.

He reached down for something and picked it up. A rock.

"You'll have to excuse me if I'm humble enough to doubt that a poison  of

my manufacture will kill you, Nen Yim. You truly  are  a  genius.  You  are  a

terrible loss to our people." He came toward her,  hefting  the  rock  in  one

hand. Her heartbeat blurred into a steady  vibration  as  with  every  bit  of

strength she had left she thrust her sting at him. He swung the rock down, and

something thundered, and one side of her head felt huge.

The second blow seemed softer. She saw again  the  rush  of  images  that

Zonama Sekot had shown her, the beauty of a world in  harmony,  a  harmony  so

sublime that the Yuuzhan Vong had no word for it-though once they  must  have.

She saw the back of her own hand, the normal one, the one she  had  been  born

with. She was suddenly very young, back in the creche,  noticing  it  for  the

first time, fascinated that she could make the little things on it move.

Does Tahiri remember this, too? she wondered. She  wiggled  the  fingers,

trying to guess how they worked. She could not seem to move them very much.

Nom Anor gasped as the sting ran him through, but used the pain to  drive

the rock into Nen Yim's head a second time. The forest floor was already black

with blood, and he was spattered with it. He could taste it, somehow, though j

he hadn't remembered opening his mouth.

He hit her a third time and fell back,  pulling  at  the  thing  in  him,

wondering if she had managed to kill him, too. He'd been stupid-he should have

killed her more quickly. He was lucky the plaeryin bol venom  worked  at  all,

upon re-flection. He was never more grateful that he had chosen to replace his

lost implant.

He was relieved to discover the sting had gone through the  meat  of  his

side. She had missed any organs, and he didn't think the sting  was  poisoned.

Still, it hurt, as did the hole she had made in his arm. He'd been lucky-if he

hadn't surprised her, things might well have gone very  differently.  Ignoring

his oozing wounds, he reached down and picked up the qahsa, examining it  with

a critical eye. Was this her original qahsa, or the  thing  she  had  used  to

contact the memories of Zonama Sekot? He fervently hoped it  was  the  former,

and that she had brought it along to record her new discovery. If it  was  the

other one, he would have to go back to the cave and face Tahiri.  That  was  a

very risky proposition-he would have to take her from behind. He  had  only  a

partly depleted plaeryin bol and a rock, no match for her Jedi  powers  and  a

lightsaber. She could take his rock from him and club him  to  death  with  it

from ten meters away.

To his relief, it was the qahsa he sought-the one Nen Yim had  keyed  him

to. He took it and left the clearing, quickly climbing back up the ridge. Over

the last few days, he had stolen the other components he needed to  carry  out

his plan-the only thing  lacking  was  the  protocol  itself,  which  was  too

complicated to memorize. Now he had it.  He  faced  out  toward  the  gigantic

hyperdrive guides. He still had challenges ahead. There were still Corran  and

Harrar to deal with, and Tahiri would surely come after him. And he had little

time. In less than a day-cycle, the ships sent by Shimrra would  be  here.  By

that time, Zonama Sekot had to be dead, or at  the  very  least  crippled.  He

intended to see it done.

When sundown drew near and Nen Yim hadn't returned, Tahiri  went  looking

for her. She hadn't seen the Prophet in a while, either, and suddenly  worried

that Nen Yim's perfor-mance had been just that-a ruse to create an opportunity

for their departure.

She went in the general direction the shaper had taken. Above her, clouds

were gathering, and the tall  boras  creaked  in  a  quickening  wind.  Leaves

whirled and danced, and a scent like electricity and  resin  crackled  in  the

humid air. She found Nen Yim in a small clearing. A trail of blood showed that

she'd crawled a few meters before collapsing. As Tahiri knelt beside her,  she

saw the shaper's head was a messy ruin. Her one remaining eye was still  open,

however, if unfocused. Her breath came in faint wheezes.

"Nen Yim," Tahiri said gently. "Who did this?"

"Prophet. He's not-" She quivered at the effort of saying the words. "...

Nom Anor."

"Nom Anor?" Tahiri looked quickly  around,  her  hand  grasping  for  her

lightsaber. Nom Anor, the one who had tried to kill them at Yag'Dhul, had been

right under her nose? A sick chill ran through her.

Nen Yim shivered and gasped.

"I... I have a medpac back at the camp," Tahiri said.

"Just hang on, and I'll be back."

"No... I've stayed too long already. I can't-He thought I was dead.  He's

going to kill Sekot. You have to stop him."

"Kill Sekot?"

"Has my qahsa. I brought protocols, in case Sekot was a danger to us."

"Where's he gone?"

"He will seek-drive  mechanism.  The  center  that  controls  it  can  be

sabotaged to make the drive fail cataclysmically. Probably  made-thing  drive,

if the ship is an example. Stop him."

"Of course I will. But you have to help me."

"No." Nen Yim's hand came up. "Leave me here. Let me  become  a  part  of

this."

Tears were blurring Tahiri's vision. She wiped them away with the back of

her hand.

"You are a part of this," she said.,

"So are you. And part of me. Don't forget." Nen Yim gasped and  her  body

seized. "Wanted to tell you about Sekot. It's what..." But that was  the  last

thing she said. Her mouth kept working for a time, but no words  came  out.  A

few moments later, her pulse was gone.

Tahiri stood grimly, anger and grief coursing through her. Jacen had said

you could draw power from anger without turning to the dark  side.  That  evil

was praxis, not the emo-tions that drove it.

But there had to be a trick in that. Because what she wanted most  to  do

at that moment was cut the Prophet's heart out-and not too quickly.

He would be headed to where Corran and Harrar had gone. Was Harrar in  on

this?

Then there would be two hearts to carve.

TWEIVTY-IXIIIVIE

Corran stood gazing up at the immense metal vanes, trying to imagine  the

engineering job that had produced them. Now that they were near, he could  see

more of the engines-three vast pits that must be the exhaust vents of  ion  or

even fusion drives.

It smacked of the Empire, when everything came in deluxe sizes. Was  this

whole planet some sort of super-weapon? It had destroyed the better part of  a

Yuuzhan Vong fleet, after all, not the easiest thing to do.

"You know what these are, don't you?" Harrar said in an accusatory  tone.

"They look like made-things." Might as well get it over with, Corran  thought.

"Yes.

These are part of a hyperdrive engine."

"A hyper-the planet can be moved?"

"It has been moved. It took the Jedi quite some time to find  it  because

it had left the system where it was last recorded."

"I see now why you avoided bringing me here,"  Harrar  said.  "No,  don't

deny it-it was clear that you wished to keep this  from  me  for  as  long  as

possible."

"I don't deny that," Corran said. "I thought it might-cloud the issue  of

Zonama Sekot."

"You underestimate my ability to reason," Harrar said.

"Do you think all Yuuzhan Vong react without considera-tion?  You  insult

me."

"I'm sorry," Corran said. "No insult was intended." Harrar shrugged. "You

should have told me sooner, but you did not. Now I know. The  issue  is  moot-

unless you are still holding information back." He looked out over the nearest

pit. "We move planets," he said. "But we use dovin  basals.  There  is  no-how

would you say it? Push-back?"

"Counterreaction," Corran said.

"Yes. How can a planet stand the stress of the sort of engines you use?"

"Not without cost, I would thiqk." A sudden  thought  oc-curred  to  him.

"Nen Yim mentioned recent mass extinc-tions. Using this engine may  have  been

the cause of them."

"The danger they were fleeing must have been great," Harrar said.

Corran laughed. Harrar gave him a puzzled look.

"We think they were fleeing you," Corran explained.

"The Yuuzhan Vong."

The priest seemed to absorb that. "Shimrra fears Zonama Sekot," he  said.

"Zonama Sekot fears the Yuuzhan Vong. What can be the explanation?"

"I've no idea."

"Nor do I understand how this planet's consciousness, if  it  indeed  has

one, can countenance this... thing.... driven into its very surface." "Perhaps

Sekot believes that life  and  technology  can  co-exist  peacefully,"  Corran

suggested.

"Perhaps," Harrar said dubiously. "Or perhaps the infi-the sentients  who

dwell here have enslaved the planet and imposed this technology upon it."

"That's also a possibility," Corran admitted. "But as Nen Yim might  say,

we're not going to find the truth by merely speculating."

"What was your reason for coming to this place, if you already knew  what

this was?"

"I'm looking for a communications device, so I can con-tact the  Ferroans

or the ship in orbit. Otherwise, we could be stuck here for a very long time."

"You could have told me that, too," Harrar said. "Did you think  I  would

object?"

"To falling into the hands of the enemy? Maybe."

"I placed myself in your hands," Harrar reminded him.

"I trust you have enough honor to make certain we are not made prisoners,

but will be paroled to return to our people."

"I promise to do the best I can," Corran said, "but the matter  might  be

taken out of my hands. Anyway, are you sure you want to go back? I doubt  that

Shimrra will be very pleased with you."

"That risk is mine," Harrar said, "and that of the others if they  choose

to take it. I feel that you would do the same in my place, Corran Horn."

"Probably."

Harrar searched  about  with  his  gaze.  "Where  do  we  look  for  this

communications device of yours?"

"I don't know. I figure there must be some sort of mainte-nance access to

the hyperdrive core. I'm hoping we'll find something-or someone-there. If not,

I'm fresh out of ideas."

"Where should we look? Down one of those pits?"  Corran  chuckled  wryly.

"Climb down the exhaust vent of an engine big enough to  move  a  planet?  No,

thanks. It should be someplace obvious, say at the base of one of these vanes.

They found that access with relatively little  trouble-a  large  metallic

dome was half buried in rock about twenty meters from the northernmost  tower.

Corran could see that the top was built  to  open  so  that  large  parts  and

equipment could be shuttled in and out. A more  modest  ground-level  entrance

wouldn't open for them, but Corran was able to solve that little problem after

a few minutes with his light-saber. He hoped the Ferroans  would  go  easy  on

vandals, if they had good cause.

Within, they found an enormous shaft plunging straight  down  toward  the

planet's core. Faint track lights illumi-nated the floor as they entered.

"The maintenance area will be down there," Corran  said,  gesturing  down

the shaft. "This could take a while, if it's as big as it looks."

"I suggest we begin, in that case," Harrar said.  Nom  Anor  watched  the

entrance to the huge hyperdrive for a long while before starting down. It  was

clear that the Jedi and Harrar had gained entrance using  the  Jedi's  weapon.

What wasn't clear was where they were  exactly,  and  what  they  were  doing.

Still, it was convenient for him that they had opened the way.

He entered and listened carefully, but heard only  the  wretched  hum  of

machinery. Perhaps they were not within, after all, but had moved on, or  were

returning to camp by a different route. Darkness  was  falling,  and  a  storm

coming. He could not wait forever.

He'd replaced the masquer on his face. If he met them,  he  would  simply

say he had followed out of curiosity. So determined, he entered  the  building

and began search-ing for a way down, where logic dictated he might  find  what

he sought.

He found a  series  of  lifts  not  very  different  from  those  he  had

encountered on a dozen infidel worlds. He stepped in, found the  control  that

would send it down, and reached for it.

At that moment, he heard another lift arrive, coming up  from  below.  He

froze, wishing he had a cloak of Nuun to make him invisible.

The door to his lift closed just as the other opened, and  he  heard  the

voices of Harrar and Corran. He quickly stabbed his finger at the  control  to

pause his descent.

"I might be able to piece something together with this stuff," Corran was

saying. "But it will take a while."

"Perhaps we should fire the engines," Harrar said. "That should get their

attention."

A chill went up Nom Anor's spine.  From  his  tone,  Harrar  was  clearly

joking, but that was insane for two reasons. The first was that  Harrar  never

joked. The second was that no Yuuzhan Vong would  casually  jest  about  using

machine technology. There was no possible humor in that. Which meant that what

he'd told Nen Yim was true - the planet was  driving  Harrar  mad.  No  wonder

Shimrra feared it.

When the voices had faded beyond hearing, he touched the descent  control

and the lift began to whir down its shaft. It took what seemed a long time, so

long that the air actu-ally seemed to get thicker. He was beginning to  wonder

if he would simply continue on to the other side of the planet  when  the  car

finally arrived in an immense room.  Banks  of  machines  and  control  panels

gleamed in the faint light from the floor.

He called all the lifts down, wedged them open with some crates he  found

stacked nearby, and began his search. He had very little  technical  knowledge

concerning hyperdrive cores, but he  didn't  really  need  any.  What  he  was

looking for was an interface, something where the biosphere of Sekot  met  the

cold metal of the infidel machines.

He sat cross-legged on a console and took out Nen Yim's qahsa,  searching

through it for the data on the Sekotan ship. There was a  long  entry  on  the

engine moorings, the analog of which was certainly what he  was  looking  for.

The ship had been grown around a  sort  of  neural  net.  The  hyperdrive  was

probably connected to something similat So where would that be?

He suspected he had a long search ahead of him. Halfway back to the camp,

Corran heard a rustling in the underbrush and saw Tahiri,  moving  at  a  fast

trot. She had her lightsaber in her hand, and he could sense her anger like  a

torch in the high wind.

"Tahiri," he called.

She whirled at the sound 'of her name. Her eyes | looked wild.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Nen Yim is dead," she said, her voice as heavy and flat as  a  sheet  of

duracrete. "The Prophet killed her."

"The Prophet?" Harrar asked. "Are you certain?"

She turned on Harrar almost as if she meant to attack him. "She  told  me

so herself, before she died," she snapped.

"She'd  just  made  some  sort  of  discovery  about  Sekot,   some-thing

important. She told me she wanted to be alone and think. She was  gone  for  a

long time, so I went looking for her. I found her. He'd done a pretty good job

on her head with a rock. But she managed to tell  me  that  he's  planning  on

killing Sekot."

"Killing?..." Corran began, then put his hands on her  shoulders.  "Okay.

Slow down. Tell me everything she told you. And start with this  discovery  of

hers."

He listened carefully as Tahiri went through the story. Telling it  again

did not seem to calm her down.

"But the Prophet believes this planet is the salvation of his followers,"

Corran said. "Why would he want to de-stroy it?"

"Because he isn't the Prophet," Tahiri replied. "He's Nom Anor."

"Nom Anor?" Corran and Harrar repeated in unison. Harrar closed his  eyes

and ground his knuckles into  his  forehead.  "Nom  Anor,"  he  muttered.  "Of

course."

Corran certainly knew who Nom Anor was, and not just by  reputation.  The

executor had very nearly killed him-and  Tahiri  and  Anakin-in  the  Yag'Dhul

system.

"What do you mean, of course!" he asked.

"Don't you see?" Harrar said. "Nom Anor is the Prophet."

"I don't see at all," Corran replied. "Nom Anor was the agent behind half

the Yuuzhan Vong invasions in this galaxy. Why would he be a  Prophet  of  the

Shamed Ones?"

"Because he failed too often," Harrar replied.  "After  the  disaster  at

Ebaq Nine, Shimrra called for his sacrifice-after which he vanished."

"And became the Prophet of the Shamed Ones, maybe in a bid  to  take  the

throne by revolution," Tahiri guessed.

"What does it matter? We have to find him."

"No, wait," Corran said. "Harrar, you acted as if you should have guessed

his identity."

"I didn't know, if that's what you mean," Harrar replied.

"But-he did not act like a Shamed One. I could tell he had once  been  an

intendant, and suspected he wore the masquer for fear  Nen  Yim  and  I  would

recognize him from his former life. And he seemed, at times, familiar. I can't

believe he made such a fool of me."

"He fooled us all," Corran said. "The question is-why would  he  want  to

destroy Sekot?"

"To win back Shimrra's good graces," Harrar snarled.

"But he'll be stuck here,  with  the  rest  of  us,"  Corran  said,  then

immediately felt stupid. "No," he said.  "They're  coming  after  him,  aren't

they?"

"The lump under his arm," Harrar said. "If that was Nom Anor, it  was  no

disfigurement. It must have been a villip."

"But Nen Yim released a virus to  destroy  anything  like  that,"  Tahiri

pointed out.

"She did?" Harrar said. "I shouldn't be surprised. She  was  resourceful,

that one. But if it was sealed in a q'et-a sort of living bag  for  preserving

other organisms-it may have survived."

"Which means we have to find him fast"  Tahiri  said.  "So  what  are  we

waiting for?"

"For you to calm down, for one thing," Corran said.

"I'm not having an apprentice of mine run into battle in your state."

"I'm okay," Tahiri said, defensively.

"No, you're angry. Remember our deal. Especially the part where you  have

to do what I say."

She nodded, then took a deep breath. "I'll try. It's hard."

"The Yuuzhan Vong belief in revenge is very strong," Harrar said.

"I'm aware of that," Tahiri said. "Sometimes it  doesn't  feel  right  to

fight it."

"Anger always makes you feel good at the time," Corran said.  "Makes  you

feel bigger than yourself, makes you feel that everything you do is justified.

But it's a trap."

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she looked calmer.  "Thank

you," she said.

"Good." He scratched his beard. It was  no  longer  neatly  trimmed,  but

sprawling all over his face. "We didn't seethe Prophet or anyone else  at  the

hyperdrive assembly."

"He might have easily slipped past us," Harrar said.

"While we were searching for a communications device."

"You're right. We'd better go back."

It was beginning to rain as they swept the area  around  the  vanes,  and

then entered the repair complex, lightsabers ready. They didn't find anyone at

the entry level. But they did find the turbolifts jammed.

"He's down there," Corran said.

"Well, we can't wait for him to come back up,"  Tahiri  said.  "By  then,

it'll be too late."

"Do you have any idea what he intends to do?" Corran asked.

"None," Tahiri said.

"Nen Yim once spoke of protocols already in the  posses-sion  of  shapers

that seemed intended for use against the  bi-ology  of  this  planet,"  Harrar

said. "I've no doubt she developed weapons of her own, as well."

"Are you saying Nen Yim planned to destroy Sekot?" Corran asked.

"I think she initially believed, like Shimrra, that Zonama  Sekot  was  a

threat to our people," the priest said. "As did I. But I believe that both  of

us came to a different conclusion." He sighed. "I wish I could have spoken  to

her about her new discovery."

"She said she had the solution to all our problems," Tahiri said.

Corran noticed her eyes were damp. "Maybe she thought that  solution  was

killing Sekot," he ventured. Tahiri shook her head. "I don't think so, Master.

"

"Right, well, there's only one way to  really  find  out,  isn't  there?"

Corran peered down the shaft. "There ought to be a manual way  down,  in  case

the power cuts out, but I don't see anything."

"They probably use some sort of flitter  or  hoverlift,"  Tahiri  pointed

out. "That's too far down to go by ladder."

"Yes, it is," Corran said, eyes still searching. "But I think I do see  a

way. It's just not one I like."

To Nom Anor's delight, the search was not nearly as long as he feared  it

would be. In fact, the object of his search was so large and obvious  that  he

overlooked it at first. In the center of the chamber was a knob about twice as

tall as he was, and about the same in diameter. At first glance, it seemed  to

be wrapped in some sort of rough fabric, but a closer inspection  showed  that

it was heavily i wound in very fine threads. At the base  of  the  thing,  the

threads spread out like fine roots and dug into the damp, exposed stone of the

floor.

He'd found it, as easily as that. The threads were  pre-cisely  like  the

filaments of the neural net on the ship. There were  just  more  of  them-many

more.

He quickly unpacked the incubator, a wet, fleshy device I about the  size

of his hand. He linked it to the qahsa and ac-cessed a protocol that was  both

a genetic and develop-1 mental blueprint. A stream of chemical and  telepathic

data moved from the qahsa to the incubator. The latter quivered j and began to

vibrate ever so slightly. Nom Anor allowed himself a smile. The incubator  was

already transforming genetic blueprints  into  living  organisms.  The  result

would be a soldier virus that would invade the neural integuments and  corrupt

their ability to carry data. The result should bt a feedback explosion in  the

core. That would not only render the planet unable to travel, but sear a third

of the biosphere away, as well. If that did not kill Sekot, it should at least

distract it long enough for him to get away. Shimrra could send a small number

of ships to finish the job. He had only to hide the incubator and leave.

He pushed experimentally at the filaments. They wete too tough to  break,

but they pushed readily aside, so that he was able to bury the  organism  deep

within. When he was finished, the filaments slowly returned to  their  places,

leav-ing no sign of what he had done. Even if the Jedi  were  fol-lowing  him,

they would have to not only know what he had done-and he couldn't imagine  how

they could-but also find the incubator, a task that might take hours. By  then

it would be too late-the microbes  would  be  leaking  out  and  invading  the

strands. Ten hours after that, things would start going very wrong for  Zonama

Sekot. But by then, Nom Anor would no longer be on the planet. He removed  his

disguise, produced his villip, and stroked it.  A  moment  later,  the  fierce

visage of a warrior appeared.

"I am Ushk Choka," the villip informed him. "You are the one I have  come

for?"

"Yes," Nom Anor replied. "What is your present position?"

"In high orbit around the planet your signal emanates from. We seem to be

undetected."

"Send a lander for me," Nom Anor  said.  "You  may  follow  the  villip's

signal."

"Yes, I have your position," Choka  confirmed.  "All  you  have  promised

Shimrra is done?" He sounded skeptical.

"Yes, Commander."

"Nothing seems to have changed.  The  planet  is  there,  and  very  much

covered in life."

"Things will change soon," Nom Anor said, "but I as-sure you  we  do  not

want to be here when they do."

"I risk much, to send a lander now," Choka grunted. "I have been informed

of the planet's defensive potential. You promised it would be negated."

"And it will be," Nom Anor insisted. "It will not be able to prevent  our

escape."

"But it might prevent the landing."

"By the time the lander arrives," Nom Anor  said,  "the  planet  will  be

thoroughly preoccupied." Or so he hoped.

But he had been unable to concoct another scheme that would both  destroy

Zonama Sekot and allow him to escape  with  his  life.  The  window  would  be

narrow, but it should be there.

"In any event," he continued, "what is risk to  the  mighty  Ushk  Choka?

Only a chance to show your bravery."

The warrior grunted angrily, and Nom Anor  knew  he  had  hit  the  right

nerve.

"Of course," Choka said. "The lander will be there in seven hours."

"You're looking at that superconducting cable, aren't you?" Tahiri asked.

"Yes." The cable was smooth and just small enough that  his  hands  could

fit around it. It looked  like  it  went  all  the  way  down,  and  hung  ten

centimeters away from the wall.

"I'm game," Tahiri said.

Corran shook his head. "No. If Anor hears me coming down, he'll just come

back up on a turbolift. You have to be here  in  case  he  does  that.  Harrar

doesn't have any weapons." And maybe Harrar wouldn't stop him if he could. The

two of them might still be in on this together.

Which meant he could be leaving Tahiri  in  a  bad  position.  There  was

nothing he could do about that, though. This was too important.

He took his jacket off. Outside, a steady  pounding  began  as  the  rain

came.  Thunder  crashed  nearby.  He  reached  out  and  touched   the   cable

experimentally, then wrapped the jacket around it, getting  a  firm  grip.  He

swung himself over the guardrail and reaffirmed the grip.

"This should be fun," he said.

"It looks like fun," Tahiri said.  "Be  careful.  I'd  hate  to  have  to

explain to Mirax what happened to you."

"Just watch those lifts," Corran reminded her.

Then he let his body slide out into the air.

For the first few seconds, he was in true free fall, acceler-ating toward

the bottom of the shaft at the exponential speed of gravity. Then he began  to

tighten his grip, creating friction  against  the  cable.  His  rate  of  fall

slowed, but his arms complained, and the jacket warmed  quickly.  He  re-laxed

again, clamped down again, alternating.

Above him, the top of the shaft had already diminished  to  a  circle  so

small that Tahiri's face was barely visible. Below him, the  light  strips  on

the walls still met together in a  point.  He  had  a  long  way  to  go,  and

proceeding like this he wasn't going to make it. His arms would wear out  long

be-fore he reached the bottom, or more likely the jacket would  burn  through.

He'd known that from the start, but had needed to experiment  with  the  cable

for what he was about to do.

He closed his eyes, feeling the air rush past, feeling the  living  Force

around him, the great pulsing life of Sekot, the unseen floor, his  own  body,

all one in the Force...

And relaxed. He kept his hands loosely  around  the  cable,  but  put  no

pressure on it. He was really falling now, his body tending horizontal as  the

atmosphere pushed against it. Fear tried to rise  up  and  take  him,  but  he

batted it away. There was nothing to be afraid of-he knew he could do this. Of

course, he'd always had a little trouble with levitation...

He had to get the moment exactly right, and he had to trust the Force  to

let him know when it was.

It came. He clamped down on the jacket, and his arms felt like they  were

coming out of their sockets. The smell of  scorched  synthleather  filled  his

nostrils, and he felt the floor coming up, still too fast. He  pushed,  pushed

in the Force-and slammed into the ground. He let his  knees  buckle,  released

the jacket, and rolled.

"Ouch," he murmured.

Nom Anor heard something strike the floor, not too far away, and  without

even having to look, he knew the Jedi had somehow found a way to come down the

shaft after him. He cursed under  his  breath  and  ran  for  the  lift.  They

couldn't catch him now-he would either have to help them reverse his  sabotage

or die along with them, neither of  which  figured  very  prominently  in  his

plans. He was still unarmed, except for the plaeryin bol.

The lift came in sight, but he heard running footfalls  be-hind  him.  He

lurched to a stop in front of the car, pushed out the crate that was  blocking

it, and punched at the ascent control.

Only then did he look up to see how close his pursuer  was.  Corran  Horn

was just rounding a bank of equipment, his lightsaber blazing. He  was  coming

fast, but not fast enough.

"Nom Anor!" he shouted. "Fight me!"

Nom Anor actually laughed at that. "I wouldn't fight  the  Solo  brat  at

Yag'Dhul," he shouted, as the door closed. "Why in the galaxy  would  I  fight

you?"

The lift started up.

Now he had a few seconds to think. Horn would unjama lift and follow him,

but he hadn't seen Tahiri. She was probably still at the top, waiting for  the

lift door to open. Maybe Harrar was with her. Could he take them both?

He had to, obviously, or all of this would be for  naught.  They  already

knew his identity. The shaper must not have been as dead  as  he  thought  she

was.

He spent the next few seconds marshaling his strength, knowing this would

either be his moment of triumph, or another failure.

The door opened.

THIRTY

Thunder  seemed  to  rumble  through  Mon  Mothma  as  the  ship   turned

ponderously broadside to bring her guns to  bear  on  the  lead  Yuuzhan  Vong

destroyer analog. The de-stroyer, already in a  position  to  fire,  held  its

ground and un-loaded, pounding the deflectors mercilessly. Wedge could  almost

hear the Yuuzhan Vong commander's triumphant gloat-by the  time  the  Mothma's

main batteries were in position to strike  at  him,  its  shields  would  have

failed. Which was why it was good that that was not really what Wedge  had  in

mind, after all.

"Now," he said quietly. "Engage the tractor beam." The entire ship jolted

and hummed as its structure tried to compensate for suddenly being attached to

another mass of even greater size. Both  ships  suddenly  began  to  pivot  in

ponderous slow motion.

"They've broken the lock, sir," Cel informed him.

"That was plenty," Wedge replied, repressing a grin. They had managed  to

roll the destroyer  right  into  the  path  of  a  Yuuzhan  Vong  Dreadnaught,

effectively blocking fire from it to either the Mothma or the  heavy  Mon  Cal

cruiser Vortex Wind that was coming up behind. The Yuuzhan Vong ship not  only

was serving as a shield for them, but  was  now  exposed  to  fire  from  both

Alliance ships, as well. Wedge watched in satisfaction as huge chunks  of  the

vessel went white, fading through blue to red, then black. A seam of  internal

explosions ran down the spiny length of the destroyer, ripping it apart.

Cheers went up from the bridge crew.

That put them ahead of the  game,  in  terms  of  numbers.  "Continue  as

planned," Wedge said.

The Vortex Wind nosed over the dying  hulk  of  the  destroyer,  swinging

broadside as she did so, and caught the next ship hard with its  batteries  as

it came from behind the eclipse. Wedge took Mon Mothma to starboard and  down,

relative to the Vortex Wind, joining Memory of Ithor in  a  bombardment  of  a

smaller frigate-sized ship. He'd been working his way through the Yuuzhan Vong

formation with a series of these bait-and-switches, using one ship to draw the

attackers into the line of another. It was  almost  too  easy,  but  they  had

clearly expected him to make  a  hard,  straight  push  for  the  interdictor.

Instead, he was plowing around the flank farthest from the  huge  dovin  basal

vessel, shredding it pretty effectively. They'd finally analyzed his plan  and

were bringing around the largest ship in the cento; but they  were  slow,  and

he'd already managed to take out three of their capital ships  without  losing

any of his own, though the Ranger was in pretty bad shape.

The starboard flank was theirs, now. He had the ships  form  a  line  and

began laying down a corridor of fire that opened a  lane  to  the  approaching

Dreadnaught, a monstrous kilometer-long cone of bone-white yorik coral.  Maybe

a hundred coralskippers flared out in  the  first  few  furious  seconds,  and

Alliance starfighters rushed in to fill the gap, pouring  toward  the  hulking

Yuuzhan Vong vessels.

"Come and get us," Wedge said. "Come on, be the Vong I know and love."

Because now what remained of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  flotilla  I  was  at  a

pronounced disadvantage. To  continue  the  fight,  they  would  have  to  fly

straight into the combined firepower of six Alliance capital vessels.

Which, predictably, they began to do.

This was where the heavy slugging would begin.

"Sir, we report some activity from the Golan Two. It opened fire  on  the

skips pursuing Twin Suns."

"Really?" That was good  news.  He  hadn't  really  expected  the  battle

platform to be functional after all this time. How had Jaina  commandeered  it

so quickly?

"Yes, sir."

"See if you can raise Colonel Solo."

The Dreadnaughts were closing, and beginning to fire  at  extreme  range.

Wedge could already see them taking hits from the starfighters.

"Target dovin basals until they're in deep range," he said.

"Lasers only, at your pleasure."

The Mothma and its sisters commenced firing.

"Sir?" Cel sounded distressed.

"Yes?" he asked mildly.

"We can't raise Colonel Solo. And there's something else."

"Well?"

"The Golan Two has disappeared."

"Disappeared? Destroyed?"

"It's hard to say at this range, sir, with this much  interfer-ence,  but

there's no obvious sign of explosion or debris. It's more like it just dropped

out of existence." Gone, then here, then gone...

"Thrawn," he murmured. "Did you leave us a present?"

"Sir?"

"It's cloaked, Lieutenant. Keep an eye on that sector, and  let  me  know

the instant anyone hears anything from Colonel Solo."

He turned his attention back to the immediate battle. The Golan was still

very much a wild card-he would have to work with what he had.

The lead Dreadnaught was taking terrific damage, but it  must  have  been

mostly hull in the forward sections, because it was still coming. Wedge  paced

up to the viewport.

"Die, you ugly brute," he muttered. But on it came, aimed at Spritespray,

a medium cruiser.

At this point, even if they managed to kill the  dovin  basal  drive  the

ship would keep coming with enough momentum to wreck the cruiser  and  open  a

hole in his line. If the Dreadnaught retained any firepower, it would then  be

behind his line, forcing him to a two-front battle.

"Spritespray, let her through. Vortex Wind, Justice-at-cute rumble."

The three ships acknowledged. Wedge watched the Dread-naught  roar  past,

with far too much momentum to stop as Spritespray scooted aside and the Vortex

Wind and Justice rolled above and below  the  gap.  As  the  Dreadnaught  went

through the hole, they let the ship have it from both sides.  The  Dreadnaught

passed through the line with no drive and massive damage in all areas. Without

power it con-tinued on its last vector, out toward  the  system's  rim.  Other

ships were making for the gap, though. Wedge shifted his  line  to  break  and

form on either side of the already damaged vessels.

"Sir!"

From Gel's frantic tone, he knew it would be bad.  Ships  were  decanting

near the interdictor-Yuuzhan Vong ships. A thin chill lifted the hair  of  his

neck.

"They've figured out we weren't a feint," Wedge said.

"They're back."

That meant he had a whole new battle on his hands.

THIRTY-DIXIE

The door opened, and Nom Anor stepped out, smiling,  his  hands  extended

with open palms.

"Stop right there," Tahiri commanded.

"If I don't, will you cut me down?" Nom Anor asked. "I have no weapons."

"You wouldn't use them if you had them," Tahiri snapped.

"Coward. You wouldn't fight Anakin at Yag'Dhul."

Nom Anor shrugged. "True enough. How is the young Solo brat? No-didn't  I

hear he died? Yes, that's right, he did. And you two were close, were you not?

What a pity."

"Shut up," Tahiri said. The hatred was welling up in her, urging  her  to

do exactly as he had suggested, cut him down and  slash  that  murderous  smug

leer from his face.

"You're angry," Nom Anor said. "I thought you Jedi  weren't  supposed  to

get angry."

"I make an exception for you," Tahiri said.

"How flattering," the executor purred. "You would turn to the  dark  side

just for me?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Tahiri said.

"Wrong," Nom Anor replied, taking a step out of the turbolift. "  I  have

studied your ways, Jedi. I know that if you strike me down in anger  you  will

have committed the most terrible sin your kind can commit."

"You won't care about that," Tahiri said. "You'll be dead."

"Will I?" He took another step.

"Stop,"

Tahiri commanded.

"Very well. I will do as you ask." He stopped, less than  a  meter  away,

staring at her. She felt her hands shaking-not with fear, but with the  effort

to control her passions.

"Kill him," Harrar said.

"He's not armed," Tahiri said. "I won't murder him."

"No!" Harrar said, leaping forward.

It distracted Tahiri for an instant and she looked away, noticing even as

she did that one of Anor's pupils was growing...

Memory clicked-something Leia had said about that eye. She leapt aside as

the glob of venom spurted toward her, but she hadn't taken the guardrail  into

account. She hit it with her hip and agonizing pain jolted up  her  side.  She

tried to turn and managed to just in time to see Nom Anor side-step the priest

and kick viciously at her. The kick connected, flipping her back. She  dropped

her lightsaber, grabbing wildly for the railing.

She missed and then she was falling.

Part of Nom Anor was amazed it had been so easy to deal with  Tahiri.  He

turned on Harrar, and found the priest coming for him again, a  snarl  on  his

face.

Nom Anor hit him with a q'urh  kick,  then  spun  and  snapped  his  fist

against the back of the priest's head. Harrar faded with  the  blow,  however,

dropping and sweeping. He caught one of  Nom  Anor's  feet,  putting  him  off

balance long enough to launch a powerful thrusting punch.

More by luck than from any design on Nom Anor's part, the  punch  missed.

Nom Anor brought his fist up under Harrar's  jaw  with  such  force  that  the

priest left the ground. Bits of shattered teeth sprinkled the floor as  Harrar

thudded to it, slid up to the wall, and lay still.

Nom Anor took quick stock of his situation  and  saw  that  his  day  was

getting even better. The Jedi had dropped her weapon. Quickly he picked it up.

He had experimented with them before, and so found it easy  to  ignite.  Then,

re-membering Horn, he severed the power conduits to the lifts,  starting  with

the one in motion. He heard it drag to a stop someplace not far below.

Knowing that this might not be good enough-for all he knew Horn might cut

hole in the wall and fly up-he left the building and struck  off  through  the

driving sheets of rain toward a high, flat spot he'd picked out some time  be-

fore, shoving the now quiescent weapon under his sash. Tahiri nailed in space,

reaching desperately to grab something, anything, but nothing  was  in  reach.

From the corner of her vision she caught sight of the cable  Corran  had  slid

down, less than a meter away-which was still half a meter too far.

The Force, idiot, she thought. She reached out, tugging at the cable with

the Force, changing her vector so she angled toward it.

She wrapped her bare palms around it, gasping as her  hands  burned.  Her

fingers tried to open reflexively, but she couldn't let  them,  or  she  would

fall. Nom Anor would escape, Sekot would die-and she would let Corran down. If

the older Jedi was still alive.

She embraced the pain and focused beyond it, using the Force  to  further

slow her descent. Finally, every muscle in her body shrieking in  chorus  with

her palms, she came to a stop.

She looked up, and discovered she had fallen almost a hundred meters.

The anger was back, but now she needed it-not to fight, but to  wrap  her

legs around the cable and pull herself  up,  though  every  centimeter  gained

brought a world of agony. She felt blisters rupturing on her hands.

At least it makes them stickier, she reflected. Her  hands  conformed  to

the cable now, as if they were made of tal gum. Nom Anor went carefully up the

narrow path, choosing his steps in the freeze-frame moments that the lightning

created as it limned the world white and blue, then left it again in darkness.

The rain was a steady drum, and the wind gusted like the laughter of an insane

god. His route was a broken spine of stone with yawning pits  of  darkness  on

either side. He came to particularly narrow footing and stopped for a  moment,

realizing that he was actually afraid. It was as  if  the  planet  itself  was

trying to do what the Jedi had been unable to.

As perhaps it was. If Nen Yim was correct, and the planet  was  sentient,

perhaps it had witnessed his act of sabotage. Perhaps it sought revenge.

"Do your worst," he snarled into the wind. "I am Nom Anor. Know my  name,

for I have killed you."

As he said it, he finally knew with absolute conviction that he had  done

the right thing. Zonama Sekot was like a tonqu flower-attracting insects  with

its sweet scent, tempt-ing them to alight upon it-where they found  themselves

cloyed, watching the long petal roll  up.  Part  living,  part  ma-chine,  and

somehow part Jedi, it was an abomination - more so  than  Coruscant,  more  so

than anything in the galaxy of abominations.

Quoreal had been right. They should never have come here.  But  Nom  Anor

had set that to rights.

He crossed the narrow area, stepped over a  gap  in  the  next  lightning

flash, and saw that the way widened a bit ahead.

But from the corner of his eye...

Someone crashed into him, chopping viciously at the side of his neck. The

force of the blow knocked him sprawling, and his chin  grated  against  stone.

With a roar he kicked back and rolled. A foot caught  him  under  his  savaged

chin, but he managed to catch it and twist. His  attacker  fell  heavily.  Nom

Anor scrambled back, trying to regain his footing, but found himself teetering

on the edge of a cliff. Lighting ripped the  sky,  and  he  saw  a  silhouette

rising against it. Another flash came, this one behind him, and  he  made  out

Harrar's face, terrifying, as  if  the  very  gods  had  put  their  light  of

vengeance in him.

"Nom Anor," the priest  shouted  through  the  rain.  "Pre-pare  to  die,

perfidious one."

"This planet has driven you mad, Harrar," Nom Anor snapped.  "  You  side

with Jedi against me?"

"I side with Zonama Sekot," Harrar said. "And  you-you  are  accursed  by

Shimrra, you honorless qorih. I would have killed you anyway."

"Zonama Sekot is a lie, you fool-a tale I told my fol-lowers so that they

would obey me."

"You know nothing," Harrar said. "You know  less  than  nothing.  Do  you

think you know the secrets of the priest-hood? Do you think we  share  all  we

know? It is Shimrra who has lied to us. Zonama Sekot  is  the  truth.  If  you

would be of service to your people, you will tell me what you have done."

Nom Anor felt the lightsaber in his hand. Harrar was  ad-vancing,  and  a

single kick would be enough to send Nom Anor plunging to his death.  He  dared

not use the plaeryin bol-even if it still contained poison, the rain would  at

best deflect it, at worst wash in onto him.  The  Jedi  weapon  was  his  only

chance.

"Telling you will do no good," he sneered at Harrar.

"Nothing can reverse the damage now."

"I believe you," Harrar said, his face twisting as he took a  quick  step

toward Nom Anor.

Nom Anor pressed the stud on the lightsaber and the cut-ting beam  blazed

out, hissing and trailing steam in the downpour. It  felt  strange,  a  weapon

with no weight other than its grip. He cut  at  the  priest's  knee,  but  his

position and the unfamiliar blade made the cut awkward. At the appear-ance  of

the blade, however, Harrar tried to stop his forward motion and jerked his leg

away from the attack; he slipped on the wet rocks and stumbled,  falling  past

Nom Anor and over the cliff.

His howl of rage and frustration was quickly cut short. Panting, Nom Anor

rose, extinguished the lightsaber, and continued on his  way.  The  gods  were

with him again, it seemed. Certainly they were no longer with Harrar.

When the turbolift jarred to a halt, Corran ignited his  light-saber  and

cut through the roof of the car, stepping aside as the circle of metal clanged

to the floor. After waiting a few seconds for the plating to cool, he leapt up

and caught the edge of the hole, then drew himself up into the shaft.  In  the

dim emergency lighting, he could see the door some ten meters above. The  lift

was magnetic, so the walls were glassy  smooth,  and  the  power  cables  were

buried in them. There were no rungs and nothing to give purchase. He could cut

handholds for himself and climb, but that would take a long time.

He dropped back down into the car and  examined  the  control  panel.  He

didn't know the language. The up and down icons were obvious, but  the  others

would take a little figuring out.

Nom Anor must have cut the power from above somehow, but the  car  hadn't

fallen-presumably there was  an  emergency  battery  system  to  prevent  that

happening. But would the emergency system be able to finish the ascent, or was

it doing its best just to keep him from falling?

He pushed a red button with two vertical lines and a  triangle,  with  no

result. He tried a few of the others, again with  no  result.  Frustrated,  he

tapped the up key.

The car started moving, though much more slowly than before. He felt like

pounding his head against the wall: the emergency system was separate from the

normal one-he needed only to tell the car where he wanted to go.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the lift, ready to  fight-but  there

was no one to fight. The room was empty. There were light  spatters  of  black

blood on the floor, but other than that, no  clues  as  to  exactly  what  had

happened. He was about to go outside when he heard a faint noise  behind  him,

in the maintenance shaft. Peering over, he saw Tahiri pulling herself  up  the

superconductor cable, about twenty meters below.

"Are you okay?" he shouted.

"I'm fine," she called back up, her  voice  shaking.  She  seemed  to  be

having trouble climbing. "Nom Anor got away," she added.  "You  have  to  stop

him-I'll join you when I can."

"And leave you dangling? No. I don't think so. You just hang on there."

He went back to the lifts. Someone  had  indeed  cut  through  the  power

couplings-with a lightsaber, it appeared. He  reached  cautiously  inside  and

grabbed a rope-sized fiber-optic conduit and began to pull  it  out.  When  he

thought he had enough, he cut it with his weapon and then tied a loop  in  the

end.

Tahiri hadn't made much progress in the intervening time.  He  threw  the

loop end down to her.,

"Put your foot in that," he said, "and hang on with your hands. I'll pull

you up."

She nodded wearily and did as instructed. Bracing his  end  of  the  rope

over the safety rail, Corran hauled her up. When she had pulled  herself  over

the rail, he saw her hands.

"Let me see those," he said.

"They're all right," she protested.

"Let me see them."

They were badly friction-burned, but it looked as  if  her  tendons  were

undamaged, which was good. The scar on her old amphistaff wound had torn a bit

and was leaking blood, but not too much.

"Well, at least you got to slide down the cable," he said.

"Was it as fun as you imagined it would be?"

"That and loads more," Tahiri said.

"What happened here?"

"I let my guard down," she said. "Nom Anor has some-thing in one  of  his

eyes that shoots poison."

"Did he hit you with it?"

"No. But when I dodged, I hit the rail, and then he knocked me over it."

"And Harrar?"

"I don't know. He attacked Nom Anor, I think. Maybe he's gone after  him.

Which is what we ought to do." Corran peered outside at the dark and the rain.

"I agree. But how to track them in this, without the Force?"

"I have my Vongsense," Tahiri said. "If he hasn't gone far,  I  might  be

able to sense him."

Corran produced a small glow rod, and in  its  light  they  found  muddy,

water-filled footprints leading back toward the  heights.  They  followed  the

prints until they came to a narrow ridge of stone.

"At least there's only one way to go," Corran said. As they ascended, the

lightning reached a crescendo, strik-ing in the valley  where  they  had  been

staying every few sec-onds or so. The roar was so steady  they  couldn't  hear

each other speak. Then-rather abruptly-it was over. The rain slacked off,  and

then ended, and the wind subsided to a clean, wet breeze.

The ridge continued until it joined a larger  one,  ascending  the  whole

time.

"He's  going  for  high  ground,"  Corran  said.  "Can  you  sense   your

lightsaber?"

"No," she said. "There's something interfering-more than usual."

"I feel it, too," Corran said. "It's Zonama Sekot. Some-thing's wrong."

"We failed," Tahiri said. "Whatever  Nom  Anor  was  going  to  do,  he's

already done it, I'm sure of it."

"There may still be time to stop him," Corran replied. "Concentrate.  Use

your Vongsense."

She closed her eyes, and he felt her relax, reaching out to someplace  he

couldn't go.

"I feel him," she said at last. "Up ahead."

By the time the east was gray with dawn, they had reached a broad, upland

plateau that showed signs of recent convul-sion. The stone  beneath  the  soil

had split in places, rearing up to reveal its strata. The soil was  black  and

ashy, and the vegetation was low when there was any at all, though the charred

trunks of larger boras still stood here and there, like the columns of  ruined

temples.

"I've lost him," Tahiri said, a tinge of despair in her voice.

"He could be anywhere up here."C orran agreed. Where there was  soil,  it

was spongy with a dark green web of grass that resisted tracks.

"We'll keep going in the same general direction," Corran said, "unless...

"

Far above, they heard  a  faint  report,  like  very  distant  and  brief

lightning.

"Sonic boom," he murmured, searching the skies with his gaze. The  clouds

had cleared away, leaving only a few thin ones very far up.

"There," Tahiri said. She pointed to a swiftly moving spot, high above.

"Good eyes," Corran told her. "I'll  give  you  one  guess  where  that's

going."

"Wherever Nom Anor is."

The dot was descending rapidly toward the plateau.  Corran  peered  along

its projected path and caught a hint of motion near a copse of low trees.

"Come on," Corran said. "If we run, we might get there in time."

"We will," Tahiri swore.

Nom Anor was watching the ship approach when the ground beneath his  feet

suddenly shuddered. It lasted for only an instant, but he knew it was only the

beginning. He looked off toward the still-visible field guides and saw a white

plume curling up toward the sky. He curled his lip-if he had timed this wrong,

if he died in the explosion he had caused, how the gods would laugh.

The grass off to his left rustled, and from the corner of  his  eye,  Nom

Anor glimpsed unnatural color. Turning as if in a dream, he beheld Corran Horn

stepping into the clearing, his eyes full of death.

Nom Anor glanced up at the approaching ship. It was  only  moments  away,

but that was longer than it would take for the Jedi to kill  him.  He  touched

his hand to the stolen lightsaber...

And ran, into the low-sprawling copse of trees behind him. He  need  only

buy enough time for Choka's ship to land and dispatch warriors.

Corran Horn shouted and ran after him. Nom Anor dodged through the trees,

leaping an old fis-sure, then bore to his left, hoping to circle back  to  the

clearing. The ground trembled again, not enough  to  upset  his  footing,  but

almost. He glanced back over his shoulder, saw Horn gaining on him, turned  to

redouble his pace. Just in time to see the blade of a  foot,  level  with  his

eyes. Behind the foot was an airborne  Tahiri,  her  body  horizontal  to  the

ground.

The kick caught him above  the  nostrils,  snapping  his  head  back  and

knocking him completely off his feet. He crashed into the trunk of a tree, and

half of the wind blew out of him. He clawed for the Jedi weapon he'd thrust in

his sash, but it was missing.

In fact, it was in Tahiri's hands, the energy blade already on.

"This is mine," she said.

Corran had come up behind her. "Don't kill him," the older Jedi said.

"I won't," Tahiri replied, but Nom Anor heard the tone in her  voice.  It

was not a human tone at all-although she was speaking Basic, every  nuance  of

her speech was Yuuzhan Vong. There was no mercy in it, but promises aplenty.

"I'm going to cut off his feet, though," she continued, stepping  nearer.

"And then his hands. Unless he tells us how to stop what he's done to Sekot."

"Do what you will," Nom Anor said, forcing  as  much  contempt  into  his

voice as he could. "It has already begun. You cannot stop it."

"Where's Harrar?" Corran asked.

"He's dead," Nom Anor replied. "I killed him."  He  watched  the  tip  of

Tahiri's blade dip toward his foot, and then winced as she  traced  a  shallow

burn across the ankle.

"Tahiri, no," Corran commanded.

Her eyes narrowed further, then she withdrew the blade.

"Yes, Master," she said.

"Get up, Anor."

Nom Anor began coming slowly to his feet.

"The ship's landing, Corran," Tahiri said.

"But he's not going on it," Corran said. "You have a villip,  don't  you,

Nom Anor? You'll call them off, now, or I'll cut your  head  off  myself.  And

that, my friend, is absolutely not a bluff."

"They will not obey me," Nom Anor said.

"Maybe they won't," Corran told him, "but you'd sure better try  to  make

them."

Nom Anor stared into the man's eyes and knew he was not lying.

He reached for the villip beneath his arm, thinking furiously.

Then Zonama Sekot tried to throw them all into space. The  ground  bucked

beneath them and an anguished cry exploded in the Force, filling Tahiri's head

with such agony that she hardly noticed when she thudded back to  the  ground.

Desperately she tried to shut out the world's pain and regain  her  feet,  but

the will behind it was too strong. She felt as  if  a  trillion  needles  were

growing from her heart, pushing through her heart  and  lungs  and  bone.  She

clutched at her head, screaming with Zonama Sekot's voice. Through her blurred

vision, she saw Nom Anor running off through the crazily tilted trees.

No. Sekot, he's the one doing this to you!

She was never sure if Sekot somehow heard her, or if that  gave  her  the

extra strength she needed to push away the sick pain, but she levered  herself

to her feet. Corran was up, leaning heavily against a tree.

"Corran..."

"Just a second," he said. "I-okay. I think I've got it under control now.

"

The two Jedi stumbled through the newly broken terrain. The ship  was  on

the ground, and Nom Anor was running toward it. Tahiri ran as  she  never  had

before, drawing on the turbulent Force around them. Corran was just  ahead  of

her. They were gaining on the executor. If they could  reach  him  before  the

warriors on the ship could debark, they might yet be able to save  Sekot.  She

clung to that hope, as the breath ripped at her lungs and her heart  stuttered

unevenly.

Without warning, Corran lashed out at her, sending  her  sprawling.  Even

before a sense of betrayal could register, she saw he  was  going  down,  too.

Less than a heartbeat later, a swarm of thud bugs whirred  through  the  space

where they'd just been.

She suddenly understood that she and Corran must have been occupied  with

Sekot's pain for longer than she'd thought. The warriors had already come  out

of the ship and hidden themselves around the clearing.  Corran  and  she  were

completely surrounded.

THIRTY-TWO

"Okay, folks," Han said as the reversion warning  began  sounding.  "Hang

on. If Wedge is still here, it's probably be-cause the Vong have  interdictors

to keep him from leaving, which means we'll probably  get  pulled  out  early.

Again."

"I hope he isn't here," C-3PO said. "I so dislike un-planned  reversions.

They cause an unpleasant resonance in my circuits."

"That's great," Han said. "All I need now is a hypochon-driac droid."

"Sir, it is quite impossible for a droid to be a hypochondriac."

"If you say so, Goldenrod. Okay, here  goes."  Han  pulled  back  on  the

levers, and the Falcon decanted as effortlessly as she ever had-in fact,  more

smoothly than usual. "Well, whaddya know," he said.  "We  came  out  normally.

Guess that means..."

"...that we're too  far  from  the  interdictor,"  Leia  finished,  "Just

barely."

Leia was right. His instruments showed the gravitic profile  of  not  one

dovin basal interdictor, but two. The falcon

had flashed into existence marginally outside the field of effect of  the

nearest. If he'd been set to revert just a little farther in,  he  would  have

made good on his prediction. "Oh, dear," C-3PO said. "It looks as  if  General

Antilles is here. And not doing very well!"

"Yeah," Han agreed. "You can say that again." He looked  sharply  at  the

droid. "But don't."

The system was swarming with Yuuzhan Vong ships. The nearest was  one  of

the interdictors, hanging in space like a sword with two blades and  no  grip.

Beyond it was a stationary mass  of  skips  and  a  few  cruisers,  apparently

guarding the interdictor against attack. Farther insystem was the main battle,

where ten Yuuzhan Vong capital ships-two of which were behemoths-were  engaged

with what was left of Wedge's battle group.

Which wasn't much-Han counted four Alliance  ships  of  frigate  size  or

larger. They were clustered together, trying to avoid being encircled,  but-as

C-3PO had pointed out-it didn't seem to be going so well.

Beyond all of that was another interdictor. It, like  the  one  near  the

Falcon, was keeping its distance, moving only to keep the Alliance ships  from

going to hyperspace.

"Ouch," Han said. "He needs reinforcements, and he needs them now."

"It's a disaster," Leia murmured. Then she straightened and got that Jedi

look in her eye.

"What?"

"It's Jaina."

He waited for her to continue, his heart frozen in his chest.

"She's  alive,"  Leia  said,  "and  I  don't  think  she's  injured.  But

something's wrong."

"If she's down there, I guess so," Han said, swallowing.

"There must be something we can do!" C-3PO wailed.

"There is," Leia told him.

"Yeah," Han said, looking at the interdictor. "There is."

"Whatever-sir, you're not going to  attack  the  interdictor?  We  barely

survived the last time!"

"They haven't noticed we're here yet," Han said. "They  don't  even  have

any ships on this side. We've got a good clean shot at  them.  With  a  little

surprise on our side, a little know-how-sure, why not?"

"But our weapons aren't sufficient to incapacitate a ship of that  size,"

the droid pointed out.

Leia leaned over and kissed Han on the cheek. "That's never  stopped  him

before."

Han felt the lump in his throat swell, but he forced a  smile.  "This  is

just more of the usual, Threepio. Don't worry yourself."

He opened a channel to the TIEs.

"Captain Devis, can I trust you to advise Grand Admiral Pellaeon of  this

situation immediately?"

"I thought you were going to do that, sir," Devis replied.

"Pellaeon might not arrive in time. He might even decide not to  come  at

all, given the situation. Heck, he might have troubles of his own. We're going

to stay and take out that interdictor."

"That could be quite a task," Devis said.

"All in a day's work," Han replied. "Just hurry up and bring us a  little

relief, will you?"

"I'll send a wingmate," Devis said, "but I'm staying to help."

"I..." Han looked back at the battle, remembering  that  Jaina  was  down

there, somewhere. "I would appreciate the help, Captain Devis. Thank you."

He laced his fingers together and cracked them.  "All  right,"  he  said,

"let's get this show on the road." He turned to Leia. "Sweetheart,  could  you

get to one of the turbolasers? Our Noghri friends are  picking  it  up  pretty

fast, but in this situation, I'd rather have you-" He stopped,  almost  unable

to continue, and most of the swagger went out of his voice. "I'd  rather  have

you here, next to me," he finished. "But I need you in the upper turret."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "I know. I'll put Meewalhin the other."

She stood to go, but before she could leave the cockpit,  he  pulled  her

down for a kiss. "Be careful up there, huh?" he said.

"I always am."

He watched her go, wishing suddenly that they could just leave,  go  find

Pellaeon, go watch a sunset... But Jaina was here, and despite the  fact  that

the odds were...

"Oh, great," he murmured. "I'm turning into Threepio."

"What was that, sir?" C-3PO asked.

"I said, I'm glad you're up here, Threepio."

"Why-thank you, sir. I'm really quite touched."

"Right," Han said. He opened the channel again.

"Okay, TIEs, we're going in-just hang  back  until  they  start  throwing

skips at us."

The interdictor was two spicular cones with their bases touching, and  it

was nearly the size of a Star  Destroyer.  Usu-ally  they  were  covered  with

skips, but this time the skips were elsewhere-either in battle or between  the

interdictor and the battle, guarding against a  push  in  its  direction.  Han

dived the Falcon toward the thickest part of the vessel, knowing he would  get

only one good run before they were aware of his  presence  and  "set  about  a

thousand skips on him. The  TIEs  dropped  into  formation  on  his  port  and

starboard.

"Watch the gravity well, fellows," he warned them. "We want  to  mess  up

their paint job, but not by splatting all over 'em."

"I hear you," Devis replied. "Correcting."

Han tilted the ship to put the seam where the two cones met in the  Money

Lane and started in with the quad lasers. An instant later,  the  turret  guns

joined him. Voids appeared  in  spidery  clusters,  sucking  the  blasts  into

nothingness. Han launched a concussion missile to  either  side  of  the  fire

lane, and had the satisfaction of seeing both plow into the craggy yorik coral

surface, rupturing it and sending shock waves crawling  out  toward  the  thin

ends of the ship.

Then he was curving around the interdictor, his course bent  by  gravity.

But instead of using the force to sling him away,  he  settled  into  a  tight

orbit, firing constantly, trying lo dig a trench into the thing deep enough to

do real damage. The interdictor's plasma cannons began to fire, but one reason

Han had picked the centerline as his target was that the ship angled away from

it in every direction, making it tough to fire at him at all and impossible to

put him in a cross fire. Nevertheless, a near miss roared by the  cockpit,  an

eight-meter-wide explosion of superheated matter that grazed his  shields  and

sent an ion jolt through the ship's protective circuitry.

Meanwhile, less than one in ten of his laser shots were getting  through,

and he had only a few concussion missiles left. His trench wasn't getting deep

very fast.

"Skips coming in," Devis reported. "Six in the first wave.

"Can you keep them off us for another pass or so?" Han asked.

"Copy that, Captain Solo."

Han fired another pair of concussion missiles-one got through, the  other

exploded when it was about to be sucked in  by  a  void.  That  happened  near

enough to the Falcon that the shock wave bounced him from his orbit  and  sent

him  away  from  the  centerline.  Suddenly  he  was  no  longer  outside  the

interdictor's line of direct fire, but squarely in it. He stood the Falcon  on

her thin side relative to the interdictot  to  minimize  his  target  surface,

weaving through withering  fire,  dropping  lower  to  keep  the  blasts  from

converging on him. When he was practically skating on the ship's  surface,  he

turned abruptly up and out. "Wow,"  he  heard  Devis  say.  Han's  jaw  nearly

dropped - the two TIEs had stayed with him the whole  way.  Behind  them  were

only three skips of the original six. Han  didn't  have  to  wonder  what  had

happened to the other three-not with pilots like that.

Even as he watched, the TIEs broke and came  around,  putting  the  skips

between them and the big guns of the  cruiser,  and  proceeded  to  take  them

apart.

"That's some pretty fancy flying," Han commented.

"Good thing there weren't more like you when we were fighting the Empire.

"

"Thank you, sir," Devis said. "But we've got more company. A lot more."

Han glanced at the monitor. "We can make one more pass," he said.  "After

that it's going to be way too hot here."

In fact, he knew, this pass was going to  be  more  than  a  little  warm

itself-probably fatally so.

"Wow," Prann said, gazing out through the Golan IPs  viewport.  "Look  at

that. And you wanted us to help them."

"What? "Jaina said.

"Come here," Prann said.

She got up and made her slow way to the viewport. They kd traded out  the

webbing they had bound her with for stun cuffs on her hands  and  feet  and  a

slave collar around her neck. Moreover, the Toydarian was still sticking close

to her. Prann didn't seem too worried that she would try anything.

She reached the viewport, and to her dismay saw what  Prann  was  talking

about.

"The rest of the Vong fleet came back," she said dully.

"Yep. In a few hours your fleet's going to be scrap metal, and even if we

were inclined to lend a hand, I don't think we could do much good against that

many."

"Don't try to justify your cowardice to me," Jaina said.

"They're all going to die, and you're just going to watch."

"Watch?" Prann said. "No, I'm going to run. The hyper-drive is  ready  to

go, thanks to your spare parts. Why do you think I dropped the cloak?  But  it

looks like they've for-gotten us out here, so we're going  to  finish  running

com-puter simulations. Our cobbled-together drive is a little quirky,  and  we

don't want to end up in a star."

"Please," Jaina said. "If you'll just listen to me-

"Solo, I said no. Hey, look at it this way: you're going to live to  tell

the uppity-ups what happened here, which no one else is likely to be  able  to

do. You're going to live, Colonel-and it's not even your fault."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jaina asked.

"It means," Prann said, leaning over her, "I've done  a  little  fighting

myself, in my time, and I know your type. Getting dead is your goal  in  life,

and you'll keep throwing yourself into the  fray  until  it  happens.  In  the

meantime, you live in constant disappointment."

" You don't know me," Jaina said. "Don't pretend you do."

"Whatever, kid. I'm not going to make an argument out  of  it.  It's  not

worth it."

"Take this station into battle, now!" Jaina  said,  as  dra-matically  as

possible. Prann blinked at her. She felt the Toydarian tense.

"Well," Prann said. "Nice try."

Jaina let her face sag in defeat, but inwardly,  she  conjured  a  wicked

little smile. She'd only lightly nudged Prann with the Force, just  enough  to

let him know she was there. Because, in the middle of their little discussion,

she had found a plan. She wasn't sure it would  work,  but  it  had  a  better

chance of succeeding now than it had a moment ago.

"Pash? "Wedge said.

"Get me General Cracken!" He'd just seen Memory of Ithor take a series of

hard hits, and sensors said its core was going critical.

"Here, Wedge," the general's tired voice said  a  moment  later.  "Sorry,

we're not going to much help to you from here on out."

"Just get out of there," Wedge said.

"We're evacuating now," Pash said. "We'll have to  take  our  chances  in

escape  pods-we've  got  none  here.  I  tried  to  aim  her  at  one  of  the

interdictors, but she's not going to make it, I'm afraid."

"Just take care of yourself, Pash. This isn't over yet."

"Good luck, Wedge. Cracken out."

A few moments later, the Memory flashed out  of  existence.  Wedge  hoped

Pash made it out, but he didn't have time to  dwell  on  it.  The  Mothma  was

limping itself, and it wouldn't be long before he was sharing his old friend's

fate. Unless something  changed,  and  quickly,  they  were  all  going  down.

Millennium Falcon and her escort had picked up twenty skips by the  time  they

came into firing range again. The TIEs were staying behind them, drawing  fire

in an effort to keep them from hitting the Falcon, but plenty  of  shots  were

getting through, making it an awfully rough ride.

"Captain Solo," C-3PO moaned from the copilot's  seat,  "I'm  afraid  our

rear deflector is beginning to fail."

"See if you can reroute the power," Han said, wishing Leia were  in  that

seat, despite what he'd said earlier.

"Can't keep them off," Devis said. "I've lost my shields."

"Thanks for the help," Han told him. "I can handle it from here. You just

get clear." He fired off the last of his concussion missiles, blowing  another

gouge in the inter-dictor, and focused his quad  lasers  on  the  hole.  Yorik

coral churned and evaporated. He dropped even lower, hoping a void didn't  get

him, and continued to strafe. An enormous explosion rocked the ship.

"What was that?" he asked of everyone and no one in particular.

"My wingmate," Devis replied. His voice had a rattling quality to it. "He

took a direct hit."

"You're still back there?" Han snapped. "Get out! Make sure  Pellaeon  is

coming!"

"A little late for that, I'm afraid," Devis said. "But maybe I can  still

be of service. It was a great honor flying with  you,  Captain  Solo.  Tell...

tell Admiral Pellaeon I did what 1 thought was best."

"Devis, what are you..."

But then the TIE came screaming by on his starboard. It was  spinning  as

if it had lost a stabilizer, but somehow the kid had still managed to aim  it.

It smacked into the interdictor like a meteor, blasting off a chunk  of  yorik

coral almost the  size  of  the  Falcon  and  leaving  an  incandescent  hole.

Atmosphere blew out into the void, along with a few figures that could only be

Yuuzhan Vong.

Han pulled up, pulling a few skips through the explosion as he did so.

"Threepio?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry, sir," the droid said. "The interdictor is still functioning."

Which means it was all for nothing, kid,  Han  thought.  He  realized  he

didn't even know what Devis had looked like.

"Han, what's happening?" Leia's voice drifted up.

"Nothing," he said. "We've lost the TIEs and the interdictor is still on-

line. If we make another pass, they'll bring us down for sure."

"If we don't..."

"Yeah, I know," Han said. "Even if Pellaeon comes, it'll be  too  little,

too late. So we make another pass, right?"

"Right."

"Right." He spun the ship in a vicious roll that brought the  interdictor

back into view. "I love you, sweetheart," he said.

"I love you too, you old pirate."

"Okay," Prann said, "looks like we're ready,  guys.  I'm  laying  in  the

final calculations."

This is it,

Jaina thought. She reached out through  the  Force,  subtly,  not  taking

control, but instead substituting her  own  coordinates  for  the  ones  Prann

thought he was entering. She didn't have much skill controlling minds  through

the Force, and like Jacen she didn't think much of the practice.

But this time there was no choice.

One-one-two, not aught-aught-two, she thought at  Prann.  Aught-nine-one,

not one-one-nine. Everything else is right, it's perfect, the best  jump  ever

calculated, and then you'll be borne, rich, safe from the Vong forever.

She couldn't change the jump much, or he would  notice.  But  she  didn't

need to.

"Hey,"  the  Toydarian  said.  He  must  have   noticed   her   look   of

concentration. "What are you doing? Stop it, or I shoot your hand off."

"I'm not doing anything," Jaina said, desperately trying to keep  up  her

monologue through the Force. "What could I be doing?"

"Doesn't matter anyway," Prann said. "Here we go." He pulled back on  the

jump lever, and they went.

"What in the..." Han yanked back on the stick, pulling the falcon out  of

her dive and just whispering by the huge object that had appeared in his path.

"Just when you think things can't get worse..."

"Sir! Sir!" C-3PO shouted. "It's a Golan Two Battle Station. Where in the

galaxy could that have come from?"

"A Golan?..."

"We're saved!"

"What-what happened?" Prann shrieked.

"You tried to jump through an interdictor," Jaina replied.

"It didn't work."

"I did not! I set the jump in exactly the opposite direction."

"Yes, well, obviously you didn't."

Prann leapt up, pulling his blaster.

"You did this. Somehow you got in my head..."

"Listen to me, Prann," Jaina snapped. "You're interdicted.  They  have  a

solid read on you by now, so if you put the cloak up  you'll  not  only  be  a

sitting target, you'll be a blind sitting target. You've got just  one  choice

now-take out that interdictor, or die. What's it going to be?"

Prann kept the blaster on her, his face contorted with fury.

"She's right, Erli," Ghanol said. "We have to fight our way out now."

Prann's finger twitched on the blaster contact-then he  slammed  it  back

into his holster.

"To the guns, then. But so help me, Jedi, you're going to pay for this."

Han cut hard in next to the station as the  shields  went  on.  The  next

instant, heavy laserfire began pounding the interdictor. Now  his  only  worry

was the dozen or so skips still on his tail,  his  own  failing  shields,  and

twenty other things that were going wrong in his ship.

"Hang on, everybody," he said. "This is going to be tight."

"Han," Leia called up.

"Little busy right now, honey," he said.

"Jaina's in that station."

"Really? There ought to be a good story behind this one-but  hey,  that's

our girl."

"I don't think-Han, she's still in trouble."

"Oh, yeah?" He yawed and straightened,  leading  a  skip  through  cannon

fire. "Well, we'll see about that."

"Sir!" Cel shouted. "The Golan  Two  just  appeared  right  next  to  the

Interdictor. It's really giving it a pounding!"

Wedge looked at the display, not believing what he was seeing.

"How did they move it?" he wondered.

It didn't matter. "Change heading. When that field goes down, I  want  to

be out of range of the other one. We'll take up the rear."

Ponderously and under heavy fire, what remained  of  his  tattered  fleet

turned to obey. All  except  Mon  Mothma.  The  ships  between  them  and  the

interdictor had realigned to deal with the battle station.  His  battle  group

had a clear run at it, but someone had to prevent that other interdictor  from

keeping pace with them. And since this was his fiasco, it looked like  he  was

elected.

THIRTY-THREE

"Remember, you're supposed to be training me," Tahiri  commented  as  she

and Corran moved to stand back to back. "What does  the  wise  Jedi  do  in  a

situation like this?" The warriors were advancing toward them in a  tightening

circle. In the distance, near where the tops of  the  field  guides  could  be

seen, the sky was a mass of white vapor.

"The wise Jedi avoids situations like this," Corran said.

"Oh," Tahiri said. "I don't guess  I  know  any  wise  Jedi,  then.  Very

disillusioning."

She counted thirty warriors.

"Right," Corran said. "And that's your lesson for the day-don't  hang  on

to your illusions."

"I was hoping more for a crash course in 'how to kick  butt  when  you're

outnumbered thirty to two.'"

"Well, if you're going to be picky about what I teach..."

"Quickly!" Nom Anor shouted, from near the ship.

"There is little time."

The circle contracted more rapidly. The ground trembled again,  and  pain

pulsed through the Force. Pain and some-thing else-something familiar.

She hadn't had time to sort it out when a track of  green  laserfire  ran

through the warriors on their right flank, then their  left,  and  suddenly  a

gleaming spacecraft come into view. It dropped to hover a few meters  off  the

ground.

"Jade Shadow!"

Corran whooped. "It's Mara and Luke!"

Even as he said it, the landing ramp dropped down, and Luke Skywalker and

Jacen Solo leapt out,  followed  by  the  hulking  reptilian  figure  of  Saba

Sebatyne. Three new lightsabers flared to life. Then the Shadow leapt back up,

turned, and began raining fire  on  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  craft.  The  remaining

warriors shook off their stupor and charged, but Tahiri ignored them,  tearing

through one of the gaps cut by the Shadow.

Nom Anor wasn't watching her-instead he was dodging laserfire, trying  to

reach the landing ramp of the Yuuzhan Vong ship. He made it there only  a  few

meters ahead of her, but as soon as he was on it, it began to retract.

With a war cry, she hurled herself through the air, land-ing on the ramp,

sweeping her lightsaber toward the executor's head.

Nom Anor ducked at the last instant and her lightsaber cut into the coral

hull. He scrambled away from her, and she started  to  follow,  but  the  ship

suddenly bounded up from the ground, twisting as  it  went.  Tahiri  lost  her

footing and fell. She grasped at the edge of the retracting ramp  and  missed,

but caught the edge of a plasma cannon with her left hand. Furiously, she  cut

at the hull with her lightsaber. It resisted the blow, and her weight suddenly

tripled as the ship went into drive. She lost her grip and went whirling  back

to the ground, landing so hard all of the wind went out of her. She lay there,

trying to recover, watching helplessly as the  yorik  coral  vessel  bored  up

through the atmosphere with Jade Shadow in hot pursuit.

Another wrenching wave of pain from the planet lashed at her,  and  again

the ground shifted. Wheezing, she forced herself to her feet.

Corran, Luke, and Jacen were trotting toward her. Saba  was  standing  at

the edge of the clearing, staring out at the towers. The Yuuzhan Vong warriors

all appeared to be dead.

"Tahiri," Jacen asked. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing broken, I think," she said.

He wrapped her up in an embrace that hurt almost as much as it felt good.

Tears threatened again.

"I let him get away," she murmured. "After all that, I let him get  away.

And now Sekot will die."

"Die?" Master Skywalker said. "Do you  two  understand  what's  going  on

here? What's wrong with Sekot?"

Over Jacen's shoulder, Tahiri saw a shaft of  blue  light  suddenly  leap

from ground to sky, appearing from somewhere near the  hyperdrive.  It  lasted

only a second.

"Down!" Corran shouted. "Cover your ears."

A heartbeat later, the shock wave came, followed by  a  wind  so  hot  it

scorched her back.

"What was that?" Jacen asked.

"The ship's drive," Corran explained. "Nom Anor must  have  sabotaged  it

somehow."

"Nom Anor?" Master Skywalker said. "What...?"

"That's a long story," Corran said, "one that I would like to tell. But I

don't think I'm going to get the chance if we don't get out of this area,  and

quickly."

"Mara's already on her way back," Master Skywalker said.

By the time the Shadow dropped back low  enough  to  pick  them  up,  the

surface of Zonama Sekot was vibrating like a plucked string, and in the Force,

Tahiri could feel something building, something out of control.  She  followed

the others aboard.

"I came back when I saw the plasma burst," Mara said.

"Is it a weapon?"

"No," Luke said. "Get us out of here, Mara-fast."

"Sounds good to me."

"What about Nom Anor?" Tahiri asked.

"I alerted Widowmaker,"

Mara said. "They should have enough firepower to deal with the Vong ship.

"

The ground was dwindling, and the gigantic vanes of the  hyperdrive  were

coming into view. The entire valley they  stood  in  was  black,  and  as  she

watched, three brilliant blue beams like the one they had seen  a  moment  ago

tore up through the atmosphere.

The shock wave hit, and the Shadow went into  a  crazy  yaw,  which  Mara

fought, cursing, into control.

"I appreciate the save," Corran told Master Skywalker as the ship leveled

out. "But how is it you just happened by?"

"We didn't know it was you," Luke said. "Sekot was in pain-we  came  here

to find out what was wrong, and saw the  Yuuzhan  Vong  ship."  He  raised  an

eyebrow. "We were pretty surprised to find you here."

"Right," Corran said. "That explanation I promised you..."

Through the upward-angled cockpit view, Tahiri  saw  stars  appearing  as

they left the atmosphere behind. Then, abruptly, they streaked away.

Nom Anor was standing on the bridge of the transport vessel  Red  Qurang,

watching the planet recede with a grim smile of satisfaction. Jade Shadow  had

broken off her pursuit.

"A large infidel ship is approaching," one of the subal-terns growled.

"It's the Imperial frigate I mentioned to Shimrra," Nom Anor  said.  "You

were supposed to occupy it with your other ships."

"There are no other ships," Ushk Choka growled. "Lord Shimrra had need of

them elsewhere." He grimaced at the sight of the approaching ship.  "It's  too

large to engage," he said. "Can we outrun it?"

"We will have to bear its first assault," the subaltern said. "After that

we can outrun. Its mass will prevent it changing its vector quickly enough  to

catch us before we burrow into darkspace."

"Can we withstand?" Ushk Choka asked.

"Possibly," the subaltern said dubiously.

"Maneuver evasively, then."

Nom Anor was still watching the planet, feeling oddly calm,  despite  the

danger he was in. He could still see where the hyperwave guides were  by  jthe

boiling cloud, and as he watched, a brilliant  blue  cone  suddenly  appeared,

then just as quickly vanished.

Something was wrong. The core was supposed  to  ex-plode,  not  fire  the

engines. Had he failed? Was there  some-thing  about  Nen  Yim's  protocol  he

hadn't understood, or had he underestimated Sekot? Perhaps Skywalker  and  the

other Jedi had managed to somehow reverse the damage he had caused.

The view swung away from the planet and was  replaced  by  the  night  of

space and a white wedge of abomination. It seemed Choka  meant  to  run  right

into the warship's for-ward batteries.

"Keep our present course," Choka said. "Secure for bombardment."

"Entering range," the subaltern muttered.

The ship began rocking from the frigate's guns, but Nom Anor ignored them

and stumbled his way back to the mica-like rear viewport analog, where  Zonama

Sekot was still visible.

Behind him,  Choka  and  the  pilot  snarled  at  each  other.  Something

exploded, and a haze of acrid smoke filled the air. Nom Anor dug  his  fingers

into the spongy edge of the bulkhead, still  unable  to  look  away  from  the

planet below. The planet of his prophecy.

Not one, but three blue cones stabbed up through the at-mosphere. It  was

a beautiful sight.

An earsplitting detonation snapped his face against the mica. He  tumbled

to the deck, black spots swimming before his eyes, but with  grim  persistence

he dragged himself back up, noticing as he did that everything had gone eerily

silent, though the ship still shivered beneath the Imperial frigate's  attack.

For a foolish instant he thought perhaps the ship had lost its atmosphere  and

he was in vacuum, but then he would be dead, wouldn't he?

He wiped blood from his eyes, realizing his forehead was cut,  and  gazed

back out the viewport, just in time to see that they had made their  run  past

the Imperial ship. Its drive sec-tion was just coming into view.  It  eclipsed

his view of the planet as it began a ponderous  turn,  trying  to  come  after

them. It was still firing at them from its rear tower. Nom Anor  noticed  that

Red Qurang was trailing a cloud of vaporized coral.

"We can stand no more of this," the  subaltern  said.  "An-other  strike,

and..."

Suddenly all the stars fell toward Zonama Sekot. The frigate quivered and

twisted, stretched into a streak of light, and vanished with  the  stars.  Nom

Anor snarled, braced himself...

And the stars were back. In the distance, the orange gas giant rotated as

always. Where Zonama Sekot had been was only empty space.

Not what I expected, Nom Anor thought as his body went light from relief.

Not what I expected, but it will serve.

Still, for long moments he gazed at where the planet had  been,  blinking

away the blood even though there was nothing to see.

He willed his muscles to relax. The truly dangerous part of  his  journey

was yet to come. Ushk Choka and his men  were  surely  doomed.  Shimrra  would

probably execute them the instant they landed. Nom Anor would live longer,  at

least until he had told the Supreme Overlord everything he knew. Then the true

test of his gamble would come. Would he join Choka and his crew in feeding the

gods, or would he be forgiven and perhaps even elevated?

Only time would tell. But the risk was worth it. One way or  another,  he

was at last going back where he belonged.

THIRTY-FOUR

The hull-breach claxon blared as Mon  Mothma  closed  with  the  pursuing

Yuuzhan Vong fleet.

"Deck Twenty-four, sir," Cel reported. "Contained. The damage is minimal.

"

"Get those  deflectors  back  up,"  Wedge  ordered.  "Divert  power  from

starboard, if necessary."

Mon Mothma ran port broadside to the approaching vessels, lasers and  ion

cannons thrumming in a steady rhythm, missiles and mines ejecting  as  rapidly

as the ship's weapons systems allowed. Wedge knew he couldn't keep that up for

long, but he wasn't worried about depleting the power core or running  out  of

ammunition-they would be overwhelmed by the enemy long before  that  happened.

In the meantime, however, his desperate maneuver was causing the lead  capital

ships to either slow or veer onto lengthier vectors-not so much from  fear  of

the Mothma's firepower as to avoid collision. That wasn't true of  the  entire

advancing line, of course-the ships on the wings had simply gone  around  him.

Those weren't the ones he was worried about;  his  central  preoccupation  was

with tying up the cluster of the four ships flying point, because if they were

slowed sig-nificantly, the second Interdictor would have to  set  a  parabolic

and hence longer, slower course to reach the rest of the Alliance ships.  That

would give the  battle  station  that  much  more  time  to  incapacitate  the

outsystem  gravity-well  generator  and  his  fleet  that  much  more  of   an

opportunity to jump out  of  this  thoroughly  botched  affair.  And,  to  his

surprise, it was working.

The Yuuzhan Vong had been strange throughout this whole battle-tentative.

The sudden appearance of the Golan II seemed to have made them more  so.  Even

approaching his lone Star Destroyer, the Vong seemed almost cautious.  It  was

almost laughable-Ebaq Nine must have really shaken them up if they thought the

string of mishaps that constituted the Bilbringi offensive might  actually  be

the setup for some ingenious trap.

Come to think of it,  that  might  be  why  they  were  try-ing  to  stay

relatively clear of Mon Mothma. Maybe they expected...

He blinked. It might work.

"Commander Raech," he said.

"General," Mon Mothma's commander said.

"Evacuate the sectors adjacent to the power  core  and  reduce  the  core

shielding efficiency by two percent every thirty seconds."

"Reduce the efficiency, General?"

"That's correct," Wedge replied.

"Very well," Raech said.

"Give me reports on that as it develops, Lieutenant Cel."

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said, clearly as puzzled as the commander.

Wedge turned his attention back to the battle. The largest of  the  ships

had rolled up above his horizon and was pound-ing  their  upper  shields  from

medium range, while a smaller frigate analog was coming in from below.

Wedge ordered a change in heading. Groaning, the  ship  turned  its  nose

toward the Dreadnaught and the three cruisers behind it.

Mon Mothma was now under fire from an entire hemisphere.

"Forward deflectors failing, sir."

"Steady," Wedge said. "Hold this course."

The pockmarked surface of the Dreadnaught grew nearer, resembling a badly

scarred moon. The lights on the bridge went out, suddenly, and stayed out.

"Power core shielding down fifteen percent, sir,"  Cel  said.  "Sir,  the

surrounding decks are reporting contamination."

"Continue as ordered," Wedge said.

And hope the Yuuzhan Vong don't revert suddenly to form.

The interdictor cracked at its central seam and bled plasma in  a  white-

hot fountain of lead. Spinning from the reaction, it rolled like some  bizarre

child's firework and then split, light flashing inside it like lightning in  a

dark thunderhead.

Jaina, still bound in stun cuffs, felt like  cheering.  So  did  some  of

Prann's people, apparently, because they actually did.

Prann wasn't one of them. "Status?" he snapped.

The Barabel at system ops looked over. "We've sustained major  damage  to

the southwestern deflector grid. Other than that, we're in pretty good shape."

"Good."

He looked over his shoulder at Jaina, his eyes smoldering, then  finished

the turn and took a few steps toward her.

"Well, Jedi," he said. "You got your wish. Now I get mine." He pulled the

blaster out and pointed it at her head.

"Hey, wait, Prann," one of the humans said. "None of  us  signed  on  for

murder, especially the murder of a Jedi. The station is still in  good  shape,

we're no longer interdicted-let's just blast jets out of here,  stick  to  the

original plan."

"Unh-unh," Prann snarled. "Nobody gets inside my mind like that. It ain't

right. And if we try to jump, she'll just do it again, drop us  by  the  other

interdictor. Once she's dead, then we jump."

"Just let me stun her," Vel said. "She can't do anything then."

"No, not until she wakes up. Then who knows  what  kind  of  mind  tricks

she'll pull? Better this way."

Jaina watched the muzzle of the weapon calmly. "Right now you  guys  look

like heroes," she said. "Nobody knows you weren't planning to help. Nobody has

to. Kill me, and all that changes."

"Hey, she's right," the Rodian-Jith-said.

"No, don't be a fool," Prann said. "We've got all those other  pilots  on

board. Somebody will talk."

"Good point," Jaina said. "Are you going to kill them, too?"

"Prann, come on," Vel pleaded.

"I'd take his advice," an  infinitely  more  familiar  voice  said,  from

behind her.

Prann jerked the gun up and fired as Jaina whipped her head  around.  She

was in time to see a large, furry mass  intersect  the  bolt  with  a  blazing

bronze lightsaber and send it whining into the bulkhead, missing its  intended

target-her father.

Lowbacca-the furry mass-growled and leapt toward

Prann, followed closely by Alema Rar, whose lightsaber was also  blazing.

Then the air was suddenly full  of  blaster  fire.  Lowbacca  slashed  through

Prann's weapon and then knocked him to the ground with an  elbow  strike;  Rar

leapt straight at the bridge crew. Her mother  and  father  were  suddenly  in

front of her, Leia blocking any shots coming their way and Han taking  careful

aim so as not to damage the consoles.

It didn't take long for Prann's people to give up  in  the  face  of  the

furious and unexpected attack. Within a few moments they were all disarmed.

Jaina let her breath out in  a  long  sigh.  "Hi,  Dad,  hi  Mom.  I  was

wondering how long you were going to take."

Prann was picking himself up off the floor, rubbing his jaw.

"We stopped to pick up reinforcements," Han told  her,  indicating  Alema

Rar and the rest of Twin Suns.

Leia moved to stand next to her. "Are you okay?" she asked,  putting  her

hand on Jaina's shoulder.

"Never better," Jaina said.

Her dad was staring Prann down.

"Look, Solo," Prann said, most of his bluster  suddenly  gone.  "I  don't

want any trouble from you."

"You were holding a blaster on my daughter. What do you expect from me, a

kiss and flowers?"

"Oh-yeah." Prann muttered, almost as if to himself.  "I  was  just-angry,

you know. I wouldn't have really done anything."

"The rest of you," Han shouted. "I want you back at your  posts,  because

this crate isn't going anywhere until every last Alliance  ship  has  made  it

out, understand?"

The crew complied immediately, and the Twins went around  collecting  the

discarded weapons.

"This is our station," Prann said. "We earned it."

"Hey," Han said, "what's your name?"

"Erli Prann."

"Erli Prann. Can't say as I've ever heard of you. But Prann?"

"Yeah?"

Her father's fist suddenly lashed out, cracking the butt of  his  blaster

against the side of Prann's head.  Prann  dropped  as  if  Han  had  used  the

business end of the weapon.

"If you ever touch my daughter again, I'll kill you," he said.

When he looked up, Prann's crew was staring at him.

"Well?" he thundered. "Don't you all have something to do?"

They jumped back to their tasks as if they'd been working  for  Han  Solo

all their lives. The lasers and ion cannons started firing once more, covering

the Alliance fleet as it gathered speed for hyperspace.

"And somebody get me the code to these stun cuffs!" he demanded.

The Dreadnaught was suddenly receding instead of getting closer. So  were

the other capital ships.

"Well, look at that," Wedge said. "It worked."

"They think we're overloading our core, don't they, sir?" Cel asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant, exactly," Wedge replied. "But they  won't  buy  it  for

long."

He turned to  the  pilots.  "Hard  about.  Point  us  toward  that  space

platform. And get the shielding efficiency back up in the power core."

"Sir, the interdictor is down," Cel noted.

"Brilliant. Control, order all ships to  lightspeed."  The  Yuuzhan  Vong

shook off their uncertainty pretty quickly when they saw  the  Mothma's  drive

turn their way. They gave chase like a pack of voxyn.

Up ahead of him, he had the satisfaction of seeing the rest of his  ships

vanish into starlight.

"We can ramp up to lightspeed ourselves, General," the Mothma's commander

said. "Shall I give the order?"

Wedge's lips pinched in. Jaina and everyone else on  the  battle  station

were doomed if they left now. Not a good re-ward for what they had  done,  but

if he attempted an evacuation, the crew of Mon Mothma might join them.

He sighed. "Prepare..."

"Sir, I've got an incoming message-priority one, from Millennium Falcon."

"Put it on."

A few seconds later, Leia Organa Solo spoke over the channel.

"Wedge," she said, "can the Mothma make the jump?"

"Yes. Where are you?"

"In the docking bay of the Golan Two. Wedge,  I'll  ex-plain  later,  but

we're okay here. We'll cover you on your way out."

"That's good enough for me," he said. "Commander, take us out of here."

So long, Bilbringi, he thought. If I never see you again,  that'll  still

be two times too many.

"It was easy enough slipping into a berth, after we lost the skips,"  Han

explained. "What with all the shooting going on, I guess nobody  was  watching

the dock."

Jaina, her mother and father, and Wedge Antilles were  sitting  around  a

table in the refectory of the Alliance-commandeered Golan II  Battle  Station,

currently occupying an orbit in an uninhabited system with  what  remained  of

Wedge's ships and Admiral Gilad Pellaeon's fleet. A few Yuuzhan Vong ships had

followed their vector on the jump, and had paid dearly for it.

Now they were awaiting orders on how and where to  disperse  to.  Prann's

people were in custody, waiting to be charged, and  the  near-system  lookouts

hadn't spotted any-thing that looked like an imminent Yuuzhan Vong attack. The

combined fleet remained on high  alert,  but  there  was  time  for  a  little

relaxation.

Wedge poured another round of Corellian brandy.

"If this station had lips," Wedge said, "I'd kiss it. Since  it  doesn't-

Colonel Solo, I'll drink your health instead."

"Hear, hear," Leia said, and they all raised glasses.

"We really have Prann and his people to thank, in  a  way,"  Jaina  said,

after the toast was over. "I mean, it's not like they intended to help, but if

it weren't for them..."

"Yes, if it weren't for them we would have all died," Wedge  said.  "Even

as it is, we lost way too much here. Pash Cracken, Judder  Page..."  He  shook

his head. "Old friends, young people I never knew."

He looked up at them, and to Jaina he seemed suddenly old. "You'd think I

would be used to it by now."

"You don't get used to it," Han said.

From the corner of her eye, Jaina saw a flash of uniform, then  an  aging

human face with an iron-gray mustache. She came quickly to attention.

"Grand Admiral Pellaeon, sir," she said,  saluting.  The  others  at  the

table came to their feet more slowly, Han slowest of all.

"Please," Pellaeon said. "At ease, Colonel Solo. After what  you've  been

through, you deserve a rest."

He turned to Wedge and saluted stiffly. "General Antilles, I've  come  to

offer my apologies. Captain Devis's man found us, but we hadn't  had  time  to

prepare the fleet for lightspeed before you arrived here. I should have joined

you regard-less, but when our communications failed..."

"You did exactly as I would have done, Grand Admiral," Wedge  said.  "The

battle plan was explicit. It simply didn't take  into  account  that  all  our

communications might fail."

"That's very generous of you, General Antilles. I hope if I were in  your

situation I could be as forgiving."

"Has anyone heard from Admiral Kre'fey?" Wedge asked.

Pellaeon  nodded.  "The  couriers  Captain  Solo  dispatched  established

communications between us, a bit belatedly. It seems, General, that the  ships

that initially jumped  from  Bilbringi  when  you  arrived  there  encountered

Kre'fey's fleet. They engaged briefly."

Jag? Jaina thought. Had she sent him into a firefight?

"Admiral," she asked,  "do  you  know  if  Colonel  Fel  reached  Admiral

Kre'fey?"

"I do not, Colonel Solo, but I shall make inquiries."

"I'm sure he's fine," Leia said. "We'll  find  him."  Wedge  cleared  his

throat.

"Grand Admiral," he began, "I wonder if you would care to join us  for  a

drink. I believe the brandy is from your home province."

Pellaeon hesitated. "I would very much enjoy that, Gen-eral Antilles, but

at the moment, duty calls. I-I was won-dering if I could make an inquiry of my

own. Captain Devis hasn't returned to his command.  Do  you  know  his  where-

abouts?"

Han shuffled a bit. "I'm sorry, Admiral, he, ah-didn't make it.  He  died

helping to take down  the  interdictor."  A  strange  expression  passed  over

Pellaeon's face like a cloud, and like a cloud it was quickly gone. But  Jaina

caught something in the Force, something unmistakable.

"I see," Pellaeon said.

"He said to tell you he did what he thought was right." Pellaeon  clasped

his hands behind his back and looked at the floor.  "Well,  yes,  that  sounds

like him," he said. He glanced at Han. "He was a great  admirer  of  yours,  I

believe, Captain Solo, despite the fact that in Imperial holos  you  are  most

often portrayed as something of a villain. Or perhaps that's  why  he  admired

you."

He clicked his heels together. "Ladies, gentlemen-until I have  time  for

that drink."

He saluted and left-almost in a hurry, it seemed.

"Villain?" Han muttered. "Maybe I need to see some of these holos."

"That was a little odd, don't you think?" Leia asked.

"Yeah," Han drawled. "Devis was a good guy, sure, but..."

"Is the Grand Admiral married?" Jaina inquired.

"No," Leia replied. "They say he's never made time for  it.  Why  do  you

ask?"

"Because," Jaina said, remembering what she'd just felt in the Force,  "I

think Devis was his son."

They were all silent for a moment, until Han raised his glass.

"To all of our sons and all of our daughters," he said, "be they with  us

or beyond."

EPILOGUE

Han was sitting on a  shingle  of  a  beach  on  Mon  Calamari,  silently

enjoying the sunset with Leia, when Lando Cal-rissian came calling.

"They said I'd find you down here," Lando said. "I didn't believe it."

"Well, you know," Han said. "The wife likes this sort of thing."

"Is that Jaina?" Lando asked.

Han glanced off in the distance, where Jaina and Jag were  exploring  the

tide  pools  below  an  ancient  reef  uplift  in   rolled-up   trousers   and

windbreakers. Jag had shown up with Kre'fey a few days before, and  Jaina  and

he had been annoyingly inseparable since then.

"Yep. I convinced her to take a little leave," he said.

"What's going  on?  Still  charging  military  prices  for  your  courier

service?"

"Hey, I'm just doing my part," Lando said. "I only charge enough to  keep

me  from  looking  foolish.  Anyway,   my   businesses   won't   run   without

communications, either.  And  there's  plenty  of  competition-the  Smugglers'

Alliance loves this sort of work. Appeals to the romantic in them."

"Did you just come down here to fill me in on  your  good  deeds,  or  is

something up?"

"No, I'm just stopping in to say hello and good-bye be-fore I  head  back

out. But I thought you'd like to know some of my  people  caught  one  of  the

things that made such a wreck of the HoloNet."

"Really," Leia said. "What was it, exactly?"

"A dovin basal, basically, grafted onto some  sort  of  liv-ing  guidance

system. They follow HoloNet signals to their  source  and  then  collapse  the

relays into singularities. The Vong must have  released  a  million  of  them-

they're every-where. Some of my people think they're even multiplying."

"Wonderful," Leia said. "So even if we rebuild the relays, as soon as  we

use them one of these things will catch the scent, and good-bye relay."

"That's about the size of  it.  I've  been  building  some  com-pact  new

relays, though, and mounting them on retrofitted corvettes. If they're mobile,

it'll be harder to find them."

"Sounds expensive," Han said.

"Yeah, but think how useful one of those would have been at Bilbringi."

"Good point. I guess the military will give you a good price  for  those,

too."

Calrissian smiled. "Eventually. I'm going to give them the first  few  as

samples. I have to think about the future, after all. Well, I'll leave you two

alone, now. Places to be, and all that."

"Thanks for stopping by." Leia said. "It's always good to see you."

"I'm sure it won't be  long  before  we  see  each  other  again,"  Lando

replied.

They had finished watching the  sunset  and  were  walking  back  to  the

apartment when Leia suddenly stumbled. Han caught her.

"Hey," he said, "you know you don't have to act  all  clumsy  to  get  my

attention." But then he felt how tense she was. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jacen, and Luke-and Tahiri, they..."

"Are they all right?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's not like my contact with  them  has  been

all that strong, but I felt them, especially Luke and Jacen.  Now  it's  like-

they're gone."

Han suddenly felt very cold.

"You mean dead?"

"No, not like that. I would know it if they died-I know I would."

"Then I'm sure they're fine," Han said,  uncertain  whether  he  believed

that or not.

"Yes," Leia echoed. "I'm sure they are."

Tahiri looked up at the heavens and shivered straight to her bones.

No world should have hyperspace for a sky. After the jump, Jade  Shadow's

instruments had gone strange, and Mara had settled the  ship  in  a  protected

ravine until they could sort things out. No telling what would happen  to  the

atmosphere when they reverted.

If they reverted.

She drew her attention back to the conversation.

"Jacen and I had both sensed you for some  time,"  Master  Skywalker  was

saying. "But fitfully, and we couldn't get a  sense  of  where.  Sekot  sensed

something, too, but couldn't find your ship-it was hidden somehow."

"We came in a Sekotan ship," Tahiri said.

"With a few Yuuzhan Vong spare parts," Corran put in.

"That might explain it," Luke said.

"It certainly explains it," a new voice said.

They all turned, and Tahiri gasped. Nen Yim was  standing  there,  whole,

alive.

"Nen Yim! "she said.

Nen Yim shook her head sadly. "No. This one has passed on.  I  found  her

attached to my memory-her, and much in-formation concerning her technology-and

the ship that brought you here. The modifications she made to  the  ship  are-

interesting. I may experiment with the design, should we survive this."

"Tahiri," Jacen said, "this is Sekot,  the  living  intelligence  of  the

planet."

"I..." What did one say to a world? "I'm pleased to meet you."

"And I you, Tahiri," Sekot said gravely.

"Should we survive?" Luke asked. "What happened, exactly?"

"I was infected with a virus designed to corrupt the information-transfer

system that links my consciousness to the hyperdrive. I believe  the  intended

result was a core explosion. I managed to prevent that, but was unable to stop

our jump to hyperspace. I have excised the virus and am regaining  control  as

we speak, but it is difficult."

"Do you have any idea of our destination?"

"None," Sekot said. "The jump was blind. Eventually we  will  pass  close

enough to a gravity well to be pulled out."

"Our friends in orbit," Luke asked. "Do you know what happened to them?"

"They did not make the jump with us," she replied.

"Whether they were destroyed, left behind, or  pulled  off  onto  another

vector, I cannot say."

"I'm sorry," Tahiri sighed.

"Sorry?" Luke asked.

"Yes. I brought him here. I argued for it, and now every-thing's ruined."

"Tahiri, you weren't the only one who thought it was a good idea," Corran

said. "Everything always looks clearer in hindsight." He put his hand  on  her

shoulder. " You came here for all the right reasons-to end the war, to somehow

find common ground between us and the Yuuzhan Vong. I thought we could  handle

the situation. I was wrong."

The figure that resembled Nen Yim smiled ruefully. "I will not say  I  am

happy to find myself sabotaged and in danger of destruction, and yet what  you

brought with you-the shaper and her knowledge-are of great impor-tance.  I  do

not entirely understand, and will not speak of  it  now,  but  I  suspect  the

questions raised are the most impor-tant questions I shall ever  have  to  ask

myself. Now-if you will excuse me, I must return my full  attentions  to  pre-

serving us all through what is to come. I suggest you find sturdy  shelter  in

the caves."

"Thank you," Luke told her, "and may the Force be with you."

"More than ever," Sekot said, "I believe that it is."

And on that enigmatic note, the image of Nen Yim vanished.

Soon after, the stars returned, spangled on a night sky.

The wind began.