HTMLBook Star Wars New Jedi Order FORCE HERETIC II: Refugee Sean Williams

and Shane Dix

In a last-ditch attempt to save the galaxy,  Luke  Skywalker,  his  wife,

Mara, and Jacen Solo blaze new frontiers in uncharted realms as  the  dazzling

Star Wars space epic Continues...

There will always be people who are strong for evil.

The stronger you become, the more you're tempted.

- Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master

PROLOGUE

The man who was no longer a man stood before an alien who was not what it

seemed.

"Everything is in place," the man said.

The alien tasted the air as though sniffing for lies. "Are you  certain?"

"Yes, General,"  he  replied  confidently.  Nevertheless,  he  felt  extremely

selfconscious of how he was standing. The aliens he  thought  he  was  dealing

with were particularly good at reading body language; the slightest gesture or

twitch of a facial muscle might be misconstrued as doubt. "The population  has

been lulled into a false sense of security-or if not security, then  certainly

hope that security might one day be  possible.  Barring  the  unforeseen,  all

should proceed according to plan." "I  am  pleased,"  the  alien  said,  claws

clicking on the floor as it paced restlessly before him.

Inwardly he sighed his relief.  Meeting  his  side  of  the  bargain  was

literally a matter of life and death. "Does that mean-?" "When you return, and

I am completely satisfied that your half of the bargain  has  been  met,"  the

alien said sharply, "then and only  then  will  you  receive  that  which  you

desire." The alien's tail thumped the ground once: End of discussion.

It couldn't have been clearer if it had used words.

He shrugged, nodding his acceptance of the alien's terms.  There  was  no

reason to believe that things wouldn't go as expected. He would  get  what  he

wanted. He had taken care of everything, after all.

"Then I shall leave you, General," he said, "with  your  permission."  It

looked him over briefly as it concurred. "You may depart," it said in a series

of tones too loud for the human ear to endure comfortably, yet possessing such

subtlety that few could comprehend it. No human mouth had ever uttered so much

as a single word in that tongue.

That he spoke it fluently was simply to be expected. "I  shall  meet  you

back here in a matter of days." "Be assured that I will be waiting," the alien

said, still pacing the floor. "And remember: we have what you want." He bowed,

knowing that he could never forget that. As he left the picket  ship  via  the

narrow umbilical, his body  adapting  to  free-fall  with  built-in  ease,  he

eagerly  anticipated  his  return  to  claim  what  was  rightfully   his--the

triumphant beginning of his new existence. It didn't matter how many lives  it

cost. He would happily stand by a bonfire of bodies if that's what it took for

a chance to warm himself on immortality's fires.

With a smile, he set a course for destiny.

PART ONE EXPEDITION

Luke Skywalker scrambled up the rocky slope, his lungs burning with  each

heavy breath he took. He was relieved to  hear  his  nephew  beside  him  also

panting for breath, because that meant his own  difficulties  with  the  climb

were in no way a reflection of his age or fitness;  it  was  simply  that  the

atmosphere on Munlali Mafir was thin, that was all.

Behind them came the terrible baymg of the KrizJaws. The sound was  high-

pitched and piercing, even through the rarefied atmosphere, and sent a  shiver

down his spine. With their great rancorlike heads bent  low,  sniffing  for  a

scent, Luke knew that the smooth - and pink-skinned aliens wouldn't be too far

behind, converging from around the ruined palace to join in the hunt  for  the

landing party.

He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see them snapping at  his

heels already. Thankfully, though, they weren't that close.  But  even  as  he

looked, he saw seven of them emerge from a decorative archway at the  base  of

the nearest wall, tripping over one another and  slipping  on  the  rubble  in

their haste as they headed for the ceremonial mound. Another three jump-rolled

from a window, scurrying out of sight behind a statue.

Small reddish eyes, two thin arms tipped with three poisoned  claws,  two

powerful legs designed for pouncing, mouths with  jaws  extendable  enough  to

swallow a human head in one gulp...

The thought was a reminder for Luke that he should keep moving.

"Only ten of them," Dr. Soron Hegerty said, the surprise evident  beneath

her own panting. She seemed to be finding the pace  more  difficult  than  the

others, barely keeping up even with Jacen's help. "There  have-always  been  -

eleven. I thought that-might have been-significant." A  second  later  another

Krizlaw leapt through the window,  shattering  what  little  remained  of  the

already splintered ornate frame, then dashed for the mound also.

The xenobiologist shook her head, as if to suggest she was tired of being

right all the time. "Eleven," she confirmed.

"Come on, Doctor Hegerty," Jacen said. Luke felt his young nephew  subtly

augmenting her stamina with the Force.  "We  have  to  keep  moving!"  "Ritual

hunting party, you think?" Lieutenant Stalgis asked. The  stocky  Imperial  in

light combat armor turned to snap a shot back  at  the  seven  coming  up  the

mound. The blaster bolt took one on the shoulder,  provoking  an  earsplitting

squeal of pain, but didn't slow the creature down.

"Something-like that," Hegerty gasped.

Luke and Jacen exchanged worried  looks.  The  xenobiologist  was  tiring

fast, and the top of the mound was still some  distance  away.  The  structure

consisted of soil packed tight around a central  core  of  stone,  creating  a

tall, conical pseudo-pyramid with a truncated, stone  summit  perfect  for  an

impromptu landing field. The shuttle  was  waiting  for  them  there,  engines

warmed up and ready to whisk them off to safety. The only problem was that  at

this rate, with the doctor's endurance flagging, they weren't  going  to  make

it.

The two Jedi turned simultaneously to see the Kriz-laws making their  way

up the slope in assured and steady bounds, digging in  with  their  claws  and

using their enormous thigh muscles to propel them  forward.  Seeing  Luke  and

Jacen making  a  stand,  the  creatures  hurried  their  ascent,  their  howls

intensifying with each leap. Luke had seen the effects these ululations  could

have on lower life-forms when he'd witnessed the Krizlaws feeding. The intense

vibrations of their howls stunned nerve centers, disoriented senses, and  sent

muscles into spasm. While their prey  was  thus  incapacitated,  the  Krizlaws

would eat them whole. Dr. Hegerty had said  that  the  Krizlaws  believed  the

still-beating heart to be essential for good digestion.

You won't be digesting this  Jedi,  Luke  swore  determinedly.  Whole  or

otherwise! He sent his senses deep under the surface of the mound.  Packed  it

might be, but the soil wasn't  bound  like  ferrocrete.  There  were  fissures

underneath the surface, numerous pressure points that, with one  solid  nudge,

could be...

There. Signaling Jacen, he mentally linked up with his nephew  using  the

Force-meld technique perfected in recent months. Together their  minds  pushed

at the pressure point he had found beneath the surface. Dirt erupted from  the

slope below as though a buried machine had suddenly come to life.  The  shower

of dirt hid the shifting forces  beneath  as  disturbed  ground  found  itself

falling, gathered momentum, disturbed more in turn, and  became  an  avalanche

that swept over the Krizlaws, driving them back down to the base of the mound.

Stalgis cocked an eyebrow. "Impressive," he said  approvingly,  and  with

obvious relief. Slinging his blaster rifle over his shoulder, he  headed  back

up the mound at a more leisurely pace.

"We're not out of this yet," Jacen said.

Luke silently agreed. Urging himself forward, he activated  his  comlink.

"We're on our way," he reported. "Any sign of disturbances?" The pilot of  the

Imperial shuttle didn't waste any words. "All clear. We're ready for liftoff."

Above them, he could hear the whine of engines. Relieved that they would  soon

be offplanet, Luke allowed himself a moment to puzzle at what had gone  wrong.

Everything had gone so well at first. Munlali Mafir was a planet that  Hegerty

had listed as one whose indigenous population told of a migratory  world  that

had once appeared in their system,  stayed  briefly,  and  then  vanished.  It

wasn't necessarily Zonama Sekot, but everyone agreed that the lead  was  worth

following up.

Upon arrival, however, it had been apparent that something  had  changed.

The Jostran natives of Munlali Mafir were,  according  to  Hegerty's  records,

slow-moving centipedes barely larger than a  human  arm.  What  they'd  found,

though, was a colony of Krizlaws-listed as feral  herd  beasts  with  no  more

intelligence than a common nerf-and no sign of the Jostrans at all.  Something

appeared to have elevated the Krizlaws to full intelligence while at the  same

time wiping out the Jostrans. Either that or the Imperial  probe  records  had

simply been wrong. The language used by the Krizlaws was in fact the  same  as

that recorded in Hegerty's  files,  except  that  it  was  attributed  to  the

Jostrans.

The Krizlaws were not  a  starfaring  species,  so  the  arrival  of  the

Imperial shuttle had prompted an enthusiastic welcome. Luke,  Jacen,  Hegerty,

and a small honor guard of stormtroopers had  been  invited  to  a  ceremonial

banquet at which the visitors had witnessed the grisly eating  habits  of  the

planet's indigenous inhabitants. The local chief, who looked indistinguishable

from the others except for a brightly colored belt wrapped around  his  smooth

midriff, had freely passed on the  legend  about  the  "Star-World"  that  had

appeared in the sky four decades earlier. Lacking telescopes or other  optical

instruments, their observations had been somewhat limited, but it seemed  that

this Star-World had appeared as a blue-green light in  the  skies  of  Munlali

Mafir. It had stayed there for almost three of the  planet's  months,  then-as

mysteriously as it had appeared-it disappeared again.

For the time that this Star-World held its  place  in  the  sky,  Munlali

Mafir had undergone a period of increased seismic activity. Numerous volcanoes

around the planet erupted, and the lands making up the  three  continents  had

been rent by groundquakes, all of which resulted in the deaths of many of  the

natives.

Although the locals at the time-whether Jostrans or  Krizlaws,  Luke  had

been unable to determine-had no geologic knowledge to speak of, or indeed  any

understanding of the gravitational effects that astral bodies could have  upon

each other, they had, nonetheless, associated the spate of disasters with  the

arrival of the new planet. To them, the Star-World was a  harbinger  of  death

and upheaval, and Luke made every effort to reassure the chief and his  people

that it was unlikely the Star-World would ever return.

It was then that the trouble had started.

A hush had descended on the gathering as Luke  patiently  explained  that

the visitation of the rogue planet had been nothing more than a chance  event,

and it was doubtful that such an occurrence would be repeated. He assumed that

Zonama Sekot was simply looking for somewhere safe to hide, and had  moved  on

once it had become clear  that  Munlali  Mafir  was  inhabited.  It  was  very

possible, he had assured the chief, that the Star-World was in fact by now  on

the other side  of  the  Unknown  Regions.  He  explained  that  the  terrible

consequences of its visit-the ruin of most of the planet's stone  cities,  the

disruption to ocean currents, and the impact  upon  some  vital  environmental

resources such as aquifers-were only temporary.  These  things,  he  promised,

would soon return to normal.

Instead of being relieved by his reassurances,  though,  the  locals  had

become agitated. The chief had signaled his guards, and the  visitors-esteemed

guests just moments earlier-had suddenly found themselves treated as captives.

Luke had forbidden any form of resistance from his party,  confident  that  he

could talk their way out of a violent confrontation. It was  only  as  he  had

tried to make contact with the chief through the  Force,  however,  that  he'd

realized just how difficult this might prove.

These beings, it turned out, had two centers of consciousness. Where Luke

might ordinarily have influenced any other creature's thoughts  and  convinced

it simply to let them go, there was no one place to apply pressure within  the

chief of the Krizlaws. One thought center was bright  and  alert,  and  easily

deflected his probe; the other was dull and diffuse, as slippery as a  nooroop

egg. He couldn't influence either as easily as he'd hoped, and the  revelation

threw him for a moment. He had never encountered this situation before.

During his confusion, one of their stormtrooper escorts had  been  forced

onto the ground. A robed Krizlaw  tipped  the  stormtrooper's  head-back  and,

bizarrely, attempted to force some sort of wriggling grub down his throat. The

man gagged and tried to spit it out, but the tiny creature went down anyway.

That was enough for Luke. Giving up on direct control, he  had  used  the

Force to thrust the robed Krizlaw away from the fallen stormtrooper. The man's

life-signature was still strong,  despite  his  revulsion  at  the  unexpected

"meal." Pushing his own guards away, he had helped  the  stormtrooper  to  his

feet while Jacen quickly freed himself and the others. Within no time at  all,

they had broken free of the Krizlaws and were running for their lives.

As they  fled,  Luke  had  heard  the  distinctive  sound  of  the  chief

screeching commands to those gathered around  him.  Soon  a  group  of  eleven

"ritual hunters," as Hegerty thought of them, had formed and given pursuit.

The chase through the decaying palace had been fast and furious, with two

of the stormtroopers at the rear of the group being snatched up  by  the  jaws

and claws of their pursuers within seconds. The sound of their  cries  as  the

Krizlaws fell upon them was terrible to hear, but their deaths had  given  the

others valuable seconds. When one of the Krizlaws was successful, all  of  the

hunting party came to a halt to devour their prey. This  was  the  first  hint

that Hegerty had received of the  nature  of  the  ritualistic  hunting  group

comprised by the eleven Krizlaws. Maybe now, Luke  hoped,  with  most  of  the

eleven buried beneath the rubble, they would give up the chase.

It was a nice thought, but Luke still didn't  feel  confident  that  they

were out of trouble just yet. Even now, as they neared their objective at  the

top of the ceremonial mound, he didn't allow himself  to  embrace  the  relief

that he could sense emanating from Stalgis and Hegerty. Self-confidence had  a

way of making one lower one's guard, and that  could  cost  lives.  He  wasn't

about to assume they had escaped until they had escaped.

Finally, the slope eased and they staggered onto the mound's wide,  stone

summit. The Sentinel-class landing shuttle  rested  on  an  eroded  bas-relief

depicting a mythical battle between two hideous-looking deities. At the top of

the extended landing ramp stood a gray-uniformed Imperial  pilot,  waving  for

them to hurry.

"Gee, what's the rush?" Stalgis said dryly,  putting  an  arm  under  the

shoulder of the only other surviving stormtrooper-the one who'd been force-fed

the grub.

"Can't they allow us a few moments to admire the scenery?" "Maybe  that's

why," Jacen said, pointing ahead and to his left.

Approaching with an ungainly but effective series  of  long-legged  leaps

were the three Krizlaws who had separated from the rest of the  hunting  party

at the base of the mound. It was clear they were going to  reach  the  shuttle

first-which probably explained their triumphant howls and ululations.

Luke gathered the Force about himself and Jacen. By using it to  increase

their speed, the two of them could head off the  three  Krizlaws,  giving  the

others opportunity to get to the  shuttle.  Three  of  these  creatures  would

certainly be no match for the lightsabers of two trained Jedi.

Barely had he taken a step when matching howls sounded from  off  to  the

right. A quick glance told him that eight more of the Krizlaws had found them.

"Eleven again," Hegerty said breathlessly. There was a hint of defeat  in

her tone.

"They can't be the ones we buried,"  Jacen  said.  "It's  not  possible!"

"They aren't," Luke  said.  "They  have  different  markings.  These  must  be

replacements." "How did they know?" Stalgis asked.

The question became moot as the eleven howling aliens  converged  on  the

escapees. Two Krizlaws separated from the rest and  headed  for  the  shuttle,

giving the Imperial waiting at the top of the  ramp  good  reason  to  hastily

retreat inside. Seconds later, laser cannons  issued  from  their  retractable

housing and began taking potshots. The Krizlaws were too fast, however,  their

long leaps taking the gunner by surprise.

Luke stopped running. There was no point wasting energy on a mad dash  if

there was no chance of making it. Sending for the  shuttle  speeder  bike  was

also pointless, since that could save only two of them at  the  very  most.  A

familiar meditation damped down feelings of frustration and anger; this was no

time to give in to darker emotions, he told himself. There had to  be  another

way to save the landing party from the approaching aliens.

Stalgis assumed a sharpshooter's pose and snapped off a dozen  rounds  in

quick succession. One of the Krizlaws stumbled and fell, missing  one  of  its

arms and geysering purplish blood. Luke watched  in  horror  as  the  creature

staggered back to its feet and continued on, limping. Stalgis's  jaw  clenched

as if biting down on frustration, but he kept on firing.

Luke and Jacen placed themselves at two points of a  defensive  triangle,

with Stalgis and the other stormtrooper at the other corner and the  exhausted

Hegerty in the middle. The xenobiologist was only slightly  older  than  Luke,

but she had no battle skills. The type of expedition she  was  used  to,  Luke

imagined, would have had little cause for running like this.

Krizlaws spread out in a circle around  them.  Luke  used  the  Force  to

discourage those who came closest, but knew it  was  only  a  matter  of  time

before he and the others were rushed. There was no  way  they  could  possibly

repel all nine at once.

As he steeled himself in  preparation  for  the  inevitable  attack,  and

possibly a fight to the death, his thoughts went out to his son  safe  in  the

heart of the Galactic Alliance, and he sent a wordless message of  apology  to

Mara, waiting in orbit in Jade Shadow.

The Millennium Falcon's exit from hyperspace was anything  but  graceful.

Leia gripped the arms of her  copilot's  chair,  glad  that  Han  had  finally

installed one that accommodated her slight build.

Behind her, she could hear C-3PO rattling.

"Oh my," the golden droid exclaimed, shifting unsteadily on his  feet  to

try to keep his balance. "I hope we  haven't  hit  anything!"  Han  flicked  a

couple of switches; then, when that obviously failed, he leaned  back  in  his

seat and kicked the base of the console. A few seconds later, their trajectory

flattened out.

"Sorry about that, folks," he said  to  no  one  in  particular.  "Normal

services have been resumed." Leia rolled her eyes and glanced back at  Tahiri.

The young Jedi sat stoically in her seat, her stare fixed at a  point  outside

the cockpit canopy.  Throughout  the  journey,  she  had  remained  quiet  and

unresponsive to any attempts at  conversation,  her  thoughts  focused  firmly

inward. Leia hadn't pressed her; she  sensed  that  some  complicated  healing

process was taking place in the girl, and she was reluctant to disturb it.

Nevertheless, there were times when she felt that a more direct  approach

might be appropriate-especially those times when  Tahiri's  brooding  silences

went on for hours at a stretch, never seeming to  end.  Tahiri's  blackout  on

Galantos had been a startling setback, occurring  at  a  time  when  Leia  had

believed that Tahiri could be on the mend. Still, there could be  no  faulting

her reactions when she'd woken up; without her well-honed Jedi instincts, they

might not have-reached orbit when they did-or, indeed, made contact  with  the

mysterious Ryn who had helped them escape.

Leia inwardly sighed.  Whatever  was  going  on  inside  Tahiri,  it  was

frustratingly inconsistent.

The subspace receiver bleeped. Leia glanced at the scopes and opened  the

line. Captain Mayn's voice issued from the comm  speakers.  "Falcon,  I  await

your instructions." "Glad you could join us, Selonia," she said. "Have a  nice

trip?" "As pleasant a stroll as  one  can  expect  through  hyperspace."  Leia

smiled at the captain's remark as she surveyed the planet before them.

Bakura was a beautiful blue-green world known for  its  agricultural  and

repulsorlift exports. Its two moons had been heavily mined for materials  used

in the manufacture of the second Death Star. It was also right on the edge  of

the galaxy, diametrically opposite the  corridor  of  worlds  that  had  first

fallen victim to the Yuuzhan  Vong  invasion.  "From  Bonadan  to  Bakura  via

Bothawui" was an old saying that suggested it  was  easier  to  get  from  the

Corporate Sector to Bakura via a wide detour to Bothan space than it was to go

straight through the  Core,  with  its  dense  overlap  of  mass  shadows  and

treacherous hyperspace lanes.

It  also  connected  three  high-tech  but   otherwise   very   different

industrialized worlds. Where Bonadan was a desertified wasteland,  Bakura  was

still verdant and pastoral, on the other end of the spectrum of  environmental

degradation. Belkadan, the first world attacked by the Yuuzhan Vong and one of

Bonadan's relative neighbors, was in a spectrum  of  its  own,  its  biosphere

modified to suit the aliens' introduced biological factories. Leia  hoped  she

never saw the day when such degradation stretched from one side of the  galaxy

to the other, linking all the worlds she knew in a terrible web  of  pain  and

sacrifice. If the day ever arrived when Shimrra ruled over  Bakura,  then  she

would know that the end had truly come.

For now, though, it still looked peaceful enough...

Numerous satellites orbited the planet, and she imagined that it wouldn't

be long before someone detected and hailed the Falcon and Pride of Selonia.

Assuming that normal procedures were still being  followed,  all  entries

into the system were closely monitored; the Bakuran government was  constantly

alert for another Ssi-ruuvi invasion.  After  the  first  attempt  twenty-five

standard years before, four destroyers  and  cruisers-Intruder,  Watch-keeper,

Sentinel, and Defender-had been  specifically  constructed  and  installed  to

guard the system.

Two of them-Watchkeeper and the task  force  flagship  Intruder-had  been

destroyed when co-opted into service to the j  New  Republic  at  Selonia  and

Centerpoint. That left only j Defender and Sentinel to hold the fort.

"Bring back any memories, Leia?" Han asked with a  crooked  grin  as  his

hand reached out to squeeze hers briefly. She returned his  smile  but  didn't

respond directly. They had visited Bakura very early  in  their  relationship;

under other circumstances, she might have let herself | enjoy the reminder  of

those headier days.

"Stand ready, Selonia,"  she  told  Mayn.  "See  if  you  can  raise  the

planetary network. Don't identify us; use Selonia's registration codes."  Mayn

responded in the affirmative, and Leia switched to  another  frequency.  "Twin

Sun One, maintain formation unless ordered otherwise."  "Understood."  Jaina's

voice came briskly from the cockpit of her X-wing. The remaining  fighters  of

Twin Suns surrounded the two command  vessels  in  a  flattened  dodecahedron,

missing one point.

"Do you sense anything, Jaina?" Leia asked her daughter.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." "What about you, Tahiri?" "Huh?" The young

Jedi snapped out of some deep thought. "I'm sorry, what?" "I asked if you were

picking up anything unusual through the Force," Leia said.

"Oh, no-nothing yet, anyway." Tahiri closed her eyes as she sent her mind

reaching out through space, seeking any echoes of the  people  on  and  around

Bakura. "Tahiri is looking now," Leia told  Jaina.  There  was  a  slight  but

meaningful pause from Jaina's j end.  Leia  had  noticed  a  definite  reserve

growing between Jaina and Tahiri, but she'd had no opportunity to  discuss  it

with her yet. The present arrangement-with Jaina on |  duty  more  often  than

not, and rarely aboard the Falcon-meant that there was simply no  time  to  be

alone together. If something had happened to get in the way of the  friendship

between the two young women, Leia had no idea what it was.

"Okay," Jaina finally said. "We'll keep our sensors peeled." Han  brought

the Millennium falcon around along a broad arc designed to end  quite  clearly

in orbital insertion. Leia wanted no ambiguity that they were  on  a  peaceful

mission, despite their military escort.  After  the  Ryn's  vague  hints,  she

wasn't taking any chances.

She opened a line to Selonia again: "Any word yet,  Captain?"  "Nothing,"

Mayn replied. "We're picking up some light chatter, but not much  else.  There

are a large number of vessels in parking orbit or in station docks.

Most of them just look like freighters." "No launches?"  "None  deleted."

Leia considered this for a moment. "Keep hailing them," she said shortly.

"They must be ignoring us or simply not noticing  us.  Either  way,  they

won't be able to keep it up much longer. Let's just stick to  our  course  and

see what happens. And be ready for anything."  "Understood."  Leia  turned  to

Han. He sat in silence beside her, his brow pinched with worry.

"You okay?" He looked at her and cocked one eyebrow. "Do I really need to

say it?" he asked.

She shook her head and sighed. He didn't need to tell her that he  had  a

bad feeling about this; she could feel something was wrong, too.  But  without

evidence she had no reason to act any way other than normal.

Finally the subspace channel crackled and a response came  in.  "Selonia,

this is General  Panib  of  the  Bakuran  Defense  Fleet.  Please  state  your

intentions." Leia remembered a Captain Grell Panib from an  earlier  visit  to

Bakura; she imagined it was probably the same person.  A  short,  stiff-backed

redhead, he'd had all the social graces of a hungry Wookiee.

Mayn ignored the request. "We're allies, Captain, looking for  a  docking

vector-" "I'm sorry, Selonia, but we're going to need more  detail  before  we

can give you one." "Of all the..." Han muttered.

"It's a perfectly reasonable request," the general  went  on,  his  voice

taut with a tension Leia couldn't  immediately  fathom.  "There  has  been  no

notification of you coming-" "General Panib, this is Leia  Organa  Solo,"  she

interrupted before Han could explode. "We  have  come  to  your  planet  on  a

diplomatic mission. We would have notified you in advance  but  communications

have been unreliable around here of late." There was some hesitation from  the

general. "I appreciate what you are saying. There have  indeed  been  problems

with the communications networks. Nevertheless, I must  insist  that  you  now

state your intentions for coming here." "Hey, how about you drop the attitude,

" Han responded hotly. "We're the guys who saved your skins from the  Ssi-ruuk

a while back, remember?" "I remember; I recognized that beat-up old  freighter

the moment I saw her." Leia hid a worried smile as  she  watched  her  husband

bite down on an indignant retort.

"But things aren't so simple anymore," Panib went on, "We have  something

of a situation here at the moment." "What kind of situation?" Leia asked.

"You're not welcome here!" A  new  voice  crackled  over  the  restricted

comlink frequency. "Go steal someone else's ships!"

"What? " Han exclaimed. It was clear this time that he didn't  intend  to

hold back. His face reddened as he leaned forward to speak into the comm unit.

"Listen, you-" "Wait, Han," Leia cut him off. He looked at  her  with  an

incensed frown, but did as she asked. "General Panib, is this person  speaking

with your authority?" "Certainly not!"  the  general  responded,  spluttering.

"And whoever it is shall be court-martialed as soon  as-"  "You  can't  court-

martial everyone, General," the intruder mocked. He had distorted his voice to

mask his identity. "You can't silence the truth indefinitely!"  "When  I  find

out who is responsible for this," the general blustered, "I swear that I shall

have you-" "The truth?" Leia broke in. "And just what is the truth?" "There is

nothing to discuss here!" The general's voice was rising as he lost control of

the situation. "We don't need you middling in our affairs!" "We aren't here to

meddle," Leia defended quickly. "Although I will admit that we  are  concerned

about your affairs. I believe you're in great danger, General.

People masquerading as allies may have  recently  contacted  you.  I  can

assure you that they are not what they seem." "Whereas you  are,  I  suppose."

This came from the person who had broken  into  the  conversation,  his  voice

dripping with derision. "At least they don't pay lip service to the idea of an

alliance while eroding our defenses and  leaving  us  open  to  attack!"  Leia

bridled at this. "We  have  never  abandoned  our  allies!"  "Like  you  never

abandoned Dantooine and Ithor?" the stranger shot back. "Or Duro or Tynna or-"

Cold fury welled up in her. "Every planet lost cuts us deeply! Every life lost

cuts us deeper!" "I must  apologize,  Princess,"  Panib  said  anxiously.  The

general's tone had changed dramatically from a few  minutes  earlier,  and  he

sounded genuinely apologetic. "We are doing our best to find the source of the

transmission." "I'm sorry, too, Princess," came the  distorted  voice  of  the

intruder. " But I'm afraid that the time has come to find ourselves  some  new

allies." "Uh-oh," Han said from Leia's side, his eyes scanning the display  in

front of him.

"What is it? "she asked.

"Sentinel's launching bays  just  opened,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head

ominously.

He pointed at the screen. Issuing from the launching bays of the  cruiser

Sentinel was a swarm of Ssi-ruuvi battle droids, coming directly for them.

"Whatever it was we came to stop, I think we might be too  late."  "Uncle

Luke! Look!" Jacen guided his uncle into the double mind of one of the  nearby

Krizlaws. He had used the Force to cloud the brighter, more intense mind,  but

still the creature kept on coming. Somehow, the more doltish mind  was  enough

to coordinate the body while the higher mind was elsewhere.

"And exactly how is this supposed to help us, Jacen?" Luke asked.

"Look closer," Jacen pressed. "We're not dealing  with  single  creatures

here; they're symbionts!" "Two creatures combined?" Luke  said  dubiously.  "I

don't see how that-"But then, suddenly, he did see. The higher, brighter  mind

of the creature belonged to the rider and was the directing  intelligence;  it

gave the orders that the body then carried out, no  matter  how  wounded.  The

lower mind belonged to the body, which could keep going even with  the  higher

mind  disabled.  Jacen's  theory  certainly  fit  the  evidence-and   he   was

intuitively better at understanding animals than Luke was.

But if he was right, then the lower mind should be more  easily  startled

by pain. And if that was the case, why hadn't  the  one  in  which  Jacen  had

disabled the higher mind simply run away from Stalgis's blasterfire?

He soon found out.  The  riding  intelligences  were  ferocious  killers:

crudely intelligent but not open to reason. Trained to hunt,  not  to  discuss

differences, the pack would keep coming as long as some of the riders remained

to keep the lower minds in check.

Following Jacen's lead, Luke sent his mind into another of  the  Krizlaws

and clouded its controlling intelligence.  It,  too,  continued  to  obey  its

higher mind's final instructions, snapping hungrily at the four  people  along

with the rest of the pack. Luke and his nephew continued around the circle  of

beasts, one by one confusing their higher minds. It was only  after  they  had

disabled the sixth creature that there was a noticeable  change  in  behavior.

The pack became less orderly, less focused, while  their  baying  became  more

unsettled and aggressive. Luke  could  feel  a  note  of  alarm  entering  the

remaining higher minds as the thoughts of those around them descended back  to

their natural, animalistic states.

As fascinating as it might  have  been  to  observe,  though,  it  wasn't

helping the landing party. Two of the enraged creatures rushed the  group  and

were repelled by  the  combined  blasterfire  from  Stalgis  and  the  injured

stormtrooper. One of the Krizlaws collapsed with a yelp and a whimper at their

feet; the other, having taken a  blaster  bolt  to  the  throat,  leapt  away,

spitting blood. Barely a second had passed when another attacked from the  far

side. Luke took this one out himself, stepping forward a  single  pace  as  he

brought his lightsaber up in a glowing arc, stabbing at the beast's soft  pink

underside. It fell to the ground, but he hadn't  killed  it-the  jaws  of  the

alien continued to snap at Hegerty's feet as it scrambled relentlessly  toward

her. Stalgis brought the nozzle of his  rifle  around  and  placed  a  precise

blaster shot into the side of the Krizlaw's head to finish it off.

Two more attacked them, uncoordinated and clumsy, and Luke felt his world

contract into a furious concentration of teeth  and  glowing  red  eyes,  with

bright flashes of energy-blade and bolt-adding a surreal counterpoint  to  the

proceedings.

Another Krizlaw lunged, extendable mouth open to engulf him. He swung his

lightsaber again, this time with more force-using the thought of Mara and  Ben

to strengthen his resolve to stay alive. The blade cut through the  creature's

forelimbs, but it wasn't enough to halt  its  movement  through  the  air.  It

connected solidly with Luke's chest, knocking him to  the  ground.  Its  huge,

slavering jaws were suddenly centimeters from his face. Before  he'd  had  the

chance to bring his lightsaber up to defend himself, five blasts sounded  from

nearby, each one striking the alien's head. Mucus and  blood  splashed  Luke's

face, and the Krizlaw fell heavily to one side. He would have liked  to  offer

his thanks to the stormtrooper who'd fired the shot, but he had already turned

his attention to the other creatures attacking them. There wasn't time  to  be

grateful.

Luke climbed to his feet, bringing his lightsaber to bear in anticipation

of the next onslaught. But there  was  none.  All  of  the  Krizlaws  suddenly

recoiled, each emitting a sound that was so high-pitched it hurt his ears.  He

remained in a defensive stance, dumbstruck, his blade still held in  front  of

him waiting for the attack that refused to happen.

Around him, the air was thick  with  confused,  animal  thoughts  as  the

Krizlaws wheeled and fled, scrambling and leaping in an uncontrolled,  chaotic

mass for the lip of the plateau.

Mystified, Luke turned to check the others. Stalgis  had  a  cut  to  his

forehead; the stormtrooper was bleeding steadily from a bite to his  shoulder.

Hegerty was unharmed. Jacen favored his  right  leg  as  he  snapped  off  his

lightsaber and turned to face them, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"Your doing, I presume?" Luke asked.

"I managed to  get  a  handle  on  the  lower  minds,"  Jacen  explained.

"Finally.

Once we'd knocked out enough of the riders, they were  unable  to  assert

themselves..The pack was frightened of us and took the  first  opportunity  to

get away." "Is the pack a group-mind, do you think?"  Hegerty  asked,  clearly

intrigued by the idea.

"Yes. With a fixed number of components forming a stable  configuration,"

Jacen added.

"Of course!" Hegerty said.  "There  were  always  eleven  of  them!  They

probably evolved that way, and the creatures controlling them now simply  took

advantage of the configuration." "And that's how they knew when some of  their

number had been killed," Jacen said. "Whenever a vacancy was  created  in  the

group, there was always  another  Krizlaw  to  fill  it,  with  the  new  ones

automatically knowing as much as the others  in  the  meld."  Luke  nodded  in

agreement. It made sense. Now was not the time to be  discussing  it,  though.

"We should get to the shuttle while we still can," he said.  "I'd  rather  not

hang around and wait for the chief to put  together  another  group-this  time

with controlling intelligences intact." They did as he suggested, with Hegerty

taking the lead. Stalgis assisted his injured comrade, while  Jacen  and  Luke

brought up the rear.

"Good work," he told his nephew as they walked. "And timely, too. I don't

know how much  longer  we  could  have  held  them  off."  Jacen  nodded,  his

expression one of simultaneous relief and pride. "I had  to  do  something.  I

couldn't let us be taken down by a pack of animals." "Never underestimate  the

power of the animal," Luke said soberly. "Sheer numbers can overwhelm the best

of tactics. Along with not having any fear of death, it's  possibly  the  most

powerful weapon an enemy can have." They reached  the  landing  ramp  with  no

further incident, although the baying of Krizlaws was  a  constant  and  eerie

reminder of why they should get off this planet  and  never  look  back.  Luke

helped the injured storm-trooper into the shuttle and onto one of the  craft's

small cots. Stalgis followed close behind, grabbing a medpac on the way.

"He's going to have to be examined thoroughly," Hegerty said, speaking to

the others in a hushed tone so that  the  stormtrooper  wouldn't  hear.  "That

force-feeding he received could be dangerous."  "He  seems  okay  now,"  Jacen

said. "Apart from the  shoulder  wound."  "I  think  Doctor  Hegerty  is  more

concerned about internal injuries," Luke said, glancing over to where  Stalgis

was administering treatment to the injured trooper. Now  that  the  fight  was

over, he certainly looked paler and weaker than he had outside.

Hegerty nodded. "We'll need to warn  Widowmaker  that  he  might  require

immediate surgery-as well as decontamination." " But why?" Jacen asked.

"You said the Krizlaws are symbionts," she explained. "But symbionts with

what, exactly?" "Some other species, I guess," he said.

The doctor nodded again. "Remember the missing Jostrans?" Jacen  blanched

as Hegerty's point hit home. "You don't really think-?" She  shrugged.  "Maybe

they're not missing after all." "We'll let  Tekli  know,"  Luke  said  with  a

sinking feeling  in  his  stomach  that  was  nothing  compared  to  what  the

stormtrooper would feel if he learned of their, suspicions. He  filed  through

the cabin while the others took seats preparatory  for  launch,  his  thoughts

turning over the whole Krizlaw/Jostran affair.

It all seemed to make sense now, as things often did in  retrospect.  The

passage of Zonama Sekot through the system must have  destabilized  the  local

environment enough to encourage a warlike clan or subspecies  of  Jostrans  to

take over the Krizlaws, giving them a competitive edge. Zonama Sekot had  been

responsible for helping that particular clan, but it had been at the  cost  of

the previous Jostran civilization.

The pilot lifted off just  as  Luke  reached  the  cockpit.  He  strapped

himself in, watching the ground  scanner  as  he  did  so.  Another  group  of

Krizlaw/Jostrans was converging on the shuttle, and he  silently  gave  thanks

that they were no longer out there fighting. It would only have been a  matter

of time before they would have fallen to the creatures.

Luke was grateful that the shuttle offered no parting shots as it swept a

comfortable distance over the heads of the eleven snapping aliens. Once upon a

time the gunners aboard this craft might have strafed them as  they  launched,

but Luke had repeatedly emphasized that their mission was a peaceful  one  and

that there would be no unnecessary loss of life-human or otherwise. Thus  far,

the Imperials had accepted his terms happily enough,  with  Captain  Yage  and

Lieutenant Stalgis backing him up. Many of the  crew,  Stalgis  included,  had

friends or family who were still alive because of the actions of the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances around Orinda. Nevertheless, there was a definite

undercurrent of resentment. To some, he would never be anything more than  the

Rebel boy who  was  responsible  for  the  death  of  Emperor  Palpatine.  But

regardless of their feelings toward him, he would never let  their  disrespect

undermine his confidence or authority.

He turned away from the thoughts, settling back  into  his  seat  as  the

shuttle sped skyward, leaving Munlali Mafir behind him. He was relieved to  be

going home - or to the closest thing to home they had, anyway.

"Haiijade Shadow," he instructed the sensor officer.

To Luke's surprise, Danni Quee took the call.  "I  gather  you  had  some

trouble with the locals," the young scientist said.

"An argument over dinner, that's all. Is Mara there?" "She's tied  up  at

the moment, but she says not to worry. Can I pass on a message?"  "No,  that's

okay. But tell Tekli to take a shuttle over to Widowmaker. We have  a  patient

for her." "Who's injured?" she asked quickly.  Luke  could  tell  without  her

having to say anything that she was worried it might be Jacen.

"A stormtrooper," he explained briefly.  "It's  not  so  much  that  he's

injured." He fought for the right word.  "He's  just...  infected,  I  guess."

"I'll warn Tekli to be ready. Did  you  learn  anything  useful  about  Zonama

Sekot?" "It's been here, as we thought-but not for many years."  "Another  hit

and run?" "I'm afraid so. If we only knew what it was looking  for,  it  would

certainly improve our chances of finding  it."  "It's  a  big  galaxy,"  Danni

agreed.

"Excuse me, sir," the pilot  interrupted.  "You've  got  a  communication

coming in." "Sorry, Danni. Got to go." Luke thanked  the  sensor  officer  and

moved forward to where the holodisplay rested between the two  forward  seats.

In the display, he saw the solid figure of Arien Yage, captain of the Imperial

frigate Widowmaker, Jade Shadow's official escort through the Unknown Regions.

Her  hair  was  tied  back  in  its  usual  severe  bun  and  her   expression

businesslike.

"We have visitors," she said, wasting no time on  pleasantries.  "Fifteen

minutes ago, a Chiss corvette and two full squadrons of clawcraft entered  the

system. They are on a high-powered approach vector, clearly intending to  lock

on to our orbit." "Communications?" "None as yet, although we hailed  them  as

soon as they appeared on the scopes. I've put the  squadron  on  full  alert."

"How long until they come within range?" "Approximately thirty minutes." "I'll

make sure we're back by then," Luke said. "Keep an eye on them,  Captain,  and

keep me informed." Yage's image nodded and fizzed out, then Luke sank  wearily

back into his seat. Two Chiss squadrons were more than a  match  for  a  dozen

Imperial TIE fighters, but Jade Shadow with Mara at the controls was worth  an

entire squadron on its own. If it came  to  a  fight,  they  would  be  evenly

matched. He just hoped it didn't come to that. The last time he and  Mara  had

entered Chiss space, in  Thrawn's  day,  their  dealings  had  been  conducted

amicably, if cautiously. Fatigue washed through him, and he tapped  the  Force

to sweep it away. He was tired of fighting, yes, but he wasn't about  to  give

up. Besides, there was nothing yet to suggest that the Chiss were looking  for

a fight. For all he knew, this might  be  the  way  they  normally  approached

unidentified vessels found wandering in the Unknown Regions.  The  Chiss  were

efficient and pragmatic, to the point of appearing cold  to  those  unfamiliar

with their ways. Until Luke was certain  of  their  intentions,  he  could  do

little more than wait.

He moved back into the passenger cabin to  check  on  the  injured  storm

trooper. The man was unconscious. The upper  half  of  his  uniform  had  been

removed to enable Stalgis to get at the wound on his shoulder, and there was a

sheen  to  his  skin  from  perspiration.  Stalgis  was   leaning   over   the

stormtrooper,  holding  a  stim-shot,a  look  of  concern  on  his  face.   He

straightened when he saw Luke.

"He's going down fast," Stalgis said. "I don't have the  facilities  here

to check for new poisons, so we're going to need to get  him  to  Widowmaker's

medical bay fast." Luke motioned Jacen to come forward. "See if you  can  hold

his vital signs stable. We're moving as quickly as we can, but it might not be

enough." His nephew bent down next to the stricken trooper and placed  a  hand

on his forehead. Luke felt waves of healing energy pour  off  his  nephew  and

into the stormtrooper. He placed one hand on  Jacen's  shoulder  to  lend  him

strength.

"Looks like  we  might  have  attracted  attention  to  ourselves,"  Luke

whispered to him?

"What sort of attention?" Jacen returned equally as softly.

"Chiss." The trooper's condition worsened steadily as the shuttle  roared

up toward the orbit occupied by the mission's two central vessels. Luke  could

feel the man's immune system failing as the invader spread  its  chemical  and

genetic tentacles through his body, beating it into submission.  Jacen  didn't

suggest using the Force to kill it, and Luke knew he wouldn't until the choice

between it and the trooper became absolutely clear.

Hegerty  watched  with  an  expression  of  concern  mixed  with  intense

curiosity. Luke doubted whether the woman could ever  not  look  worried;  the

lines in her face were permanently etched that way. For the sake  of  Stalgis,

and in case their fear turned out to be unfounded, Luke refrained from  asking

the doctor if she'd ever seen anything like this before. They'd find out  soon

enough-or so he hoped, anyway.The sensor officer stuck his  head  out  of  the

cockpit. "Another communication, sir." Luke returned to the  cockpit,  leaving

Stalgis and Jacen to care for the stormtrooper. Yage's hologram was back.

"We've had a reply," she said.  "Commander  Irolia  of  the  Expansionary

Defense Fleet wants to speak to the person in charge. I told her you  were  on

your way back from the surface, but she  said  she  wanted  to  speak  to  you

immediately." "I guess you'd better put me through, then," he said.

The  copilot  made  way  for  him  without  having  to  be  asked.   Luke

straightened his robes as he took the empty seat.

Yage's face dissolved from the holofield in a flicker of static;  it  was

replaced a few seconds later with the image of  the  upper  body  of  a  blue-

skinned woman dressed in a burgundy-and-black uniform. Her eyes were the  deep

red of her species, and her expression held nothing but blunt authority. Chiss

matured quickly, but still Luke was startled by the fact that  she  looked  no

older than his niece, Jaina.

"You are Master Skywalker?" Her voice had all the warmth of a  droid.Luke

nodded curtly and said: "I am leader of a peaceful mission from  the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances. We are in the middle of an emergency. I lost two

of my crew in a ground fight with the natives of the planet below, and a third

is seriously injured. If we don't get back to orbit in time, he'll  die.  Your

arrival into this system has put my squadron on  full  alert,  and  means  our

docking procedures will be that  much  more  complicated.  If  I  should  lose

another because of your interference, I will be  extremely-"  "Please  do  not

threaten us, Skywalker," the Chiss woman responded calmly, staring  unblinking

from the flickering holofield. "Our intention is not to  impede  your  docking

procedures, or any other of your procedures. I require only that you meet with

me in person at the earliest possible convenience." "Of  course,"  Luke  said.

"We'll arrange it as soon as I return to the Widowmaker."  "When  or  how  you

arrange it is irrelevant. Know, however, that I will not remain in this system

for long. Comply with my request, or face the consequences." The image  winked

out.

"Well, you heard the commander," Luke said to the pilot, who had  watched

the show with interest. "I guess we'd better  get  moving..."  "All  X-wings,"

came Jaina's voice over the subspace combat channel, "lock S-foils  in  attack

position. Claw-craft: arm and target approaching vessels. Battle plan A-seven.

" "Copy that," Jag returned on behalf of Twin Suns' Chiss pilots.

Leia watched as the formation of fighters  split  into  three  groups-two

pairs and a triplet, Galactic Alliance and  Chiss  fighters  flying  alongside

each other with perfect precision. The calm command in  her  daughter's  voice

made her proud; no matter how surprised by the sudden attack Jaina  must  have

been, she didn't let it show. Neither was there any suggestion of concern  for

the fact that her squadron hadn't had any experience in  combat  against  Ssi-

ruuk fighters. Any sign of composure that General Panib had displayed  earlier

now evaporated totally in the face of this abrupt turnabout of events.

"Please,  wait,"  he  urged  frantically.  "There's   been   a   terrible

misunderstanding!" "You bet there has," Han said. "One we intend to  clear  up

for you very shortly. Those ships belong to the enemy, and  we'll  knock  them

out of your skies if  they  come  anywhere  near  us.  You  got  that?"  "More

launches," Leia said, registering fighters coming from Defender. "A-wings  and

B-wings, this time; not Ssi-ruuk." Han glanced at the  scanner  board.  "Those

had better be coming to help us, Panib." "Falcon, I beseech you not  to  order

your ships to open fire!" All semblance of calm had left the general's  voice;

only panic remained. "All these ships comprise a peaceful envoy to ensure your

safe passage to orbit." "All of them?" Han snorted. "Yeah, right.  If  entech-

ing humans and using them to fly those fighters heading  our  way  constitutes

peaceful behavior, then I don't think we're speaking the same language.  Those

fighters have precisely thirty seconds to turn around before we start  opening

fire." "Han, look at this," Leia said, studying the  display  before  her.  It

showed one of the Ssi-ruuvi vessels up close. The image was  fuzzy  but  clear

enough to make out some details. "Do those engine housings  look  familiar  to

you?" Han frowned at the image. "What about them?" "They  look  an  awful  lot

like ion jets to me." "So?" "Since when did the Ssi-ruuk start using  standard

engines on their fighters?" "What are you saying, Leia?"  "That  there's  more

here than meets the eye," she said. "You'll note also that  our  transmissions

are not being jammed." Han's frown deepened as his instincts  conflicted  with

what Leia was suggesting. "It has to be a trick," he said, shaking  his  head.

"They want us to drop our guard." Leia wasn't convinced. " It doesn't add  up,

Han. If they really wanted to do that, then why not just let us land first and

then attack us?" She could almost see the  thoughts  behind  his  eyes  racing

through his mind. What if Panib was telling the  truth?  A  mistake  could  be

extremely costly. Then there was the matter of the mysterious intruder on  the

secure comm channels. He had been  silent  since  the  Ssi-ruuvi  vessels  had

launched. If their intentions had been to stir things up between Panib and the

visitors, in order to  ensure  the  worst  possible  reception  of  the  alien

fighters, then they had certainly succeeded.

"The pilots of those ships aren't human," Tahiri said, breaking into  the

discussion softly. Leia turned to face the young Jedi; the  girl's  eyes  were

still closed, as though  meditating.  "They're  definitely  alien.  And-"  She

hesitated for a second, then her eyes flickered open.  "Everyone's  heard  the

stories about the Ssi-ruuk and how awful en-techment is. It's supposed  to  be

agony, right?" Leia nodded, still remembering the look on Luke's face when  he

had been rescued from the mighty Ssi-ruuvi vessel  in  which  he'd  been  held

captive, years ago. Exposure to the perverted entechment  technology,  and  to

the life energy forcibly removed from  those  taken  captive  in  battle  with

Bakura, had touched him profoundly.

"Well, these minds aren't suffering," Tahiri said. "They're clean." "What

are they, then?" Han asked.

"I don't know," Tahiri said. "I've never touched minds like these before.

"When Leia stretched out her senses,  she,  too,  could  detect  no  trace  of

anything malevolent in the approaching fighters.

"I don't care if their minds are as serene  as  Alder-aanian  snow,"  Han

growled.

"They're still attacking us!" "Are they?" Leia asked. It was all too easy

to assume. "We don't want to  start  a  war  by  accident-not  if  there's  an

alternative." "And what if you're wrong, Leia? I don't want  them  to  end  up

using Jaina as target practice out there." "Nor do I, Han."  She  touched  his

hand in reassurance,  then  spoke  on  the  secure  subspace  comlink  to  the

squadron: "Twin  Suns,  fall  back  to  flank  Selonia  and  Falcon.  You  are

instructed not to fire unless we are  fired  upon.  Understood?"  "Understood,

Falcon." Apart from the slight hesitation in  Jaina's  voice,  the  order  was

accepted and acted upon immediately. In the face of  the  rapidly  approaching

swarm of Ssi-ruuvi fighters, the combined Chiss and Galactic Alliance squadron

peeled away and swooped back to cover their command vessels.

Han squirmed in his seat but  didn't  say  anything  more.  Leia  shifted

uneasily in her seat also. She felt reasonably confident that  she  was  doing

the right thing, but she couldn't help feeling nervous at the same  time.  The

last time she had come face to face with Ssi-ruuvi fighters had been on a  war

footing. She remembered the  strength  of  the  fighters'  shields  and  their

maneuverability in dogfights - and perhaps more vividly she remembered how the

alien capital vessels would collect survivors with their "trooper scoopers" in

order to suck out their life energies and  hurl  them  back  at  their  former

allies...

"Gunners standing by," announced Captain Mayn on Selonia as the  fighters

came within range.

Leia held her breath.

On the scanner board, she saw the  alien  fighters  break  formation  and

scatter to adopt a defensive wall around the  incoming  vessels,  just  as  an

escort would do. No shots were fired, and they stayed a discreet distance from

both Falcon and Selonia. When the second contingent of ships arrived,  the  A-

wings and B-wings slotted into the existing pattern with only a  small  amount

of jostling.

She exhaled with a heavy sigh.

"Thank the maker," C-3PO said from behind her.

"You can say that again, Goldenrod."  Han  leaned  forward  to  trim  the

Falcon's course slightly, a motion designed to  disguise  the  relief  he  was

feeling, Leia knew. "We're not out of  the  woods  yet.  In  case  nobody  has

noticed, we're now effectively caught." "But at least we didn't start a  war,"

Leia said. "And this way, we just might get some answers." "What if  we  don't

like what we hear?" her husband asked wryly.

Leia shrugged. "We'll deal with that as it happens." Han  turned  to  the

comm. Panib, who had been frantically trying to attract their  attention  over

the subspace channel, sounded like he was going to sob with relief.

"Thank you, Falcon. You won't regret this." "We'll  reserve  judgment  on

that until we hear what's going on," Han said.

"I understand," the general responded. "But first I must once  again  ask

that you state your intentions." Han put a weary hand to  his  forehead.  Leia

gave in.

"We'd like to set down at Salis D'aar," she said, "and  meet  with  Prime

Minister Cundertol." "I'm afraid that won't be  possible,"  Panib  said.  "The

Prime Minister is unable  to  meet  with  anyone  at  the  moment."  "I  don't

understand, General," Leia said. "Why-" "Bakura is currently  operating  under

martial law," he explained without allowing her to  finish  her  question.  "I

shall be in charge until the crisis is over." "Then  perhaps  we  should  meet

with you," Leia said. "Whatever this crisis is, I'm sure we can  do  something

to help you out of it." "Your help would indeed be welcome," the general said,

although he didn't sound overly enthusiastic. "However, Salis D'aar is  unsafe

for you at the moment. Dock with Sentinel and I shall take a shuttle  to  meet

you within the hour. I'll explain everything then."  "Understood,"  Han  said.

Leia noted the look of skepticism on his face. "Just don't  try  and  tell  us

that the Ssi-ruuk are now the good guys, though, because I can tell you now we

won't believe you." "Not the Ssi-ruuk," Panib said. "The P'w'eck." Realization

dawned, then, for Leia-and from Han's face, she could tell  it  had  for  him,

too.

"Okay, General," she said. "We'll see you within the hour." The comm went

dead.

"The P'w'eck?" Tahiri repeated. "Weren't they the slaves of the Ssi-ruuk?

" "They were indeed," Leia said.

"But how-?" "I guess that's what we're about to  learn,"  Han  said,  the

tension in his posture already easing. He  reached  forward  to  punch  a  new

course into the Falcon's command board. "In the  meantime,  let's  show  these

reptoids how to fly." Leia relayed the situation to Captain Mayn as  Han  sent

the Falcon streaking toward Sentinel. While she could understand his readiness

to accept the  immediately  obvious  explanation,  she  preferred  to  reserve

judgment until she'd heard what Panib had to say. Nothing, she knew, was  ever

quite as simple as it seemed.

Only by force of will was Jacen able to hold on to the  contents  of  his

stomach as he watched Tekli operate on the injured stormtrooper. The  man  lay

facedown on the operating table, naked  to  the  waist  and  fed  by  numerous

intravenous drips and tubes. They had barely reached the Widowmaker's  medical

bay in time. Had it not been for Luke and himself propping  up  the  trooper's

defenses with large amounts  of  the  Force,  the  alien  invader  would  have

probably overtaken his immune system completely and effectively killed him. As

it was, Saba Sebatyne still had to strengthen  the  stormtrooper  while  Tekli

tried to isolate the organism, carefully cutting through and  around  delicate

tissues with her vibroscalpel. It was difficult and dangerous work, but  after

almost forty-five minutes of painstaking surgery, Tekli seemed to have finally

exposed the problem.

The centipedelike creature the stormtrooper had been force-fed on Munlali

Mafir had turned out not to be a "meal" at all, but  rather,  as  Hegerty  had

suspected, an uninvited guest. The juvenile Jostran had survived the acids  in

the man's stomach long enough to burrow its way into his abdominal cavity  and

locate his spine. Once there, it had  used  the  tips  of  its  many  legs  to

infiltrate nerves and tunnel into his spinal column. It had been  working  its

way up to his skull, gradually taking over his body  as  it  went.  Tekli  had

caught it at the very top of the man's spine, just as it was about  to  invade

his brainpan.

Its central body had already sent dozens  of  hairlike  tendrils  snaking

into delicate neural tissues, and these  were  making  extraction  exceedingly

difficult.

Tekli didn't doubt that the  creature  had  numerous  defense  mechanisms

designed to discourage removal. The filaments could  physically  damage  nerve

cells during extraction,  or  they  could  excrete  any  number  of  chemicals

designed to kill as much tissue as possible around themselves. Only  with  the

help of Jacen was she able, strand by strand, to finally save the stormtrooper

from a horrible fate. Jacen attuned his mind to that of the Jostran  and  kept

it docile while Tekli worked, finding it much easier when it was  on  its  own

rather than in a pack of eleven.

Jacen couldn't shake the ghastly thought of what might have  happened  as

Tekli scooped up the wriggling body of the alien and dropped it into a  tissue

sample container. Hair-thin tendrils trailed it like roots from a plant.

"Well done, my friend," he said. "Master Cilghal would be proud of  you."

"Thank you, Jacen," Tekli said, stepping back from the table and removing  her

gloves, leaving a medical droid to suture the patient's wound. "But perhaps we

should save congratulations until the anesthetic wears off." The  Chadra-Fan's

ears were limp with fatigue and her fur appeared dull. It was clear  that  the

intense concentration required for the operation had taken a lot out of her.

"You're exhausted," Jacen said.

She nodded. "I feel as tired as you look." Jacen acknowledged the comment

with a tight smile. He hadn't had time to change from the gear  he'd  worn  on

Munlali Mafir. He'd only had time to wash the dirt and sweat off his face  and

hands. In all, he suspected he looked as exhausted as he felt.

They left the patient in the care  of  Imperial  meditechs.  Outside  the

surgery, they met Lieutenant Stalgis waiting in the narrow  corridor.  He  had

removed his helmet - revealing a long, lined face that suggested an  age  much

older than his thirty or so years-but like Jacen, he hadn't had time to  fully

refresh himself yet.

"How is he?" "He's fine," Jacen reassured him. "He  just  needs  time  to

recover from the surgery." "The thing-the Jostran-" Stalgis's  face  contorted

into a look of revulsion.

"Has it?..." "It's been removed." Relief rolled  off  the  lieutenant  in

waves. "I can't tell you how grateful I am, to both of you. Tarl is a  friend,

as well as a member of my ground team. If he had died-if  we  hadn't  made  it

back in time-" Stalgis gesticulated for lack of words.

Jacen placed a hand on the armor plating of the man's upper arm. "We were

glad to help. But I suggest you get some rest, now. Your friend  is  going  to

need you when he wakes." Stalgis nodded almost formally and strode off up  the

hallway.

"Perhaps you should listen to your own advice,  Solo."  Jacen  turned  to

find Danni Quee standing behind  him.  She  was  smiling,  but  there  was  no

mistaking the concern underlying it.

"I'm okay." "You're tired," she said, her green  eyes  flashing  at  him.

"And don't even try to deny it." A touch on the  back  of  his  hand  signaled

Tekli's departure. He sent a wave of gratitude to the Chadra-Fan  through  the

Force, then devoted all his attention to Danni. She stood before him wearing a

standard Jedi expeditionary suit with her arms folded across her breasts.  Her

blond, curly hair had been cut to her shoulders.

"It's true," he admitted, stepping closer. "I am tired. In fact, I'd give

anything right now to be able to curl up on my bunk and sleep  for  a  day  or

two." "Not even an attempted denial," she said. "I'm impressed, Jacen.

Unfortunately, there won't be time for you to sleep. You're wanted on the

bridge now." Momentary alarm welled up in him, but he pushed it back down. "Is

anything wrong?" "Nothing that can't wait ten minutes for you to cleanup." "Is

it the Chiss?" he pressed.

"In ten minutes you'll have all the answers you need. But if you were  to

meet Commander Irolia looking like this, it  would  probably  be  taken  as  a

declaration of war." "She's not letting us proceed?" Danni continued to  evade

his questions. "... illegal use of biological  weapons  or  something..."  "At

least give me a hint!" "... cruel and unusual punishment..." "All  right,  all

right!" Smiling, and feeling energized by  the  brief  exchange,  they  walked

along the narrow corridors of the Imperial frigate  to  the  cabin  he'd  been

assigned. "Tell Uncle Luke I'll be there shortly." "That's what  comlinks  are

for." Her expression was mock indignant, but turned into a smile as she turned

and headed off for the bridge.

"The planet is a legend," Commander Irolia said.  Her  youthful  features

were set in stubborn, self-assured lines. "I cannot believe that finding it is

your true objective." "I assure you that it's much more than a legend," Master

Skywalker said. Saba was amazed at his self-control.  She  knew  that  he  was

exhausted and irritated, but all he allowed his face to display was  calm  and

patience. "We have evidence that it once existed; the only question is whether

it still exists today." "What evidence is this?" "We were  told  about  Zonama

Sekot by Vergere, a Jedi Knight from-" "Vergere?" Irolia's eyebrows shot up at

the name. "The same Vergere who sabotaged the Alpha  Red  initiative?"  Master

Skywalker didn't flinch from the truth. "The Vergere  who  prevented  genocide

the likes  of  which  this  galaxy  has  never  seen,  yes."  The  commander's

exhalation had a mocking bite. "You expect me to trust her testimony?" "No one

is forcing you to accept anything," Captain Yage said, clearly annoyed by  the

Chiss commander's mockery. "We only want to go about our business. That's all.

" "But what is your business? That's what I am attempting to  determine."  The

meeting was being conducted on Widowmaker's bridge in full view of  the  crew.

Irolia carried herself as though it was her own ship and  her  own  crew.  Her

tone and poise displayed nothing but self-assurance. Saba  knew  that,  should

anything happen to the Chiss officer or the small contingent  of  guards  that

had escorted her across, then there would  be  dire  consequences  for  Master

Skywalker and his expedition. What's more,  Irolia  knew  that  they  knew-and

that, presumably, was why she was so confident.

Saba wasn't an expert on humanoid appearances, but she imagined that  the

Chiss commander would have been regarded  as  quite  striking  among  her  own

people. Her face was narrow  and  angular,  her  blue  skin  smooth  and  soft

looking. Her wide red eyes contained both character and intelligence, and upon

entering the meeting, had quickly scanned everyone on the bridge.  She  didn't

doubt that the woman's evaluation of them would have been equally as brisk.

"All we ask," Luke said, "is for the freedom to look." Irolia paced three

steps to her left, contemplating his words. "This is our territory," she said.

"You do realize that." "We recognize your authority over  regions  near  here,

yes. But we weren't aware that the Expansionary Defense Fleet had specifically

annexed this system." "If I were to tell you that we have, would  you  leave?"

"We are a peaceful expedition," Luke said. "Would you bar  a  trading  mission

from your territory, or a scientific team?" The commander laughed. "Don't  try

to fool me, Sky-walker! You're no more a trader than I am.  And  as  for  your

motives being scientific, I ask this of you: Were you  to  find  this  planet,

what exactly would you do with it?" A new voice spoke up from behind them when

Luke hesitated: "It is our hope that Zonama Sekot will  help  us  in  our  war

effort, and in doing so  save  trillions  of  lives  -  including  your  own."

Commander Irolia turned her attention to Jacen Solo, who had just entered  the

room. "Then your intentions are clearly not scientific, but  rather  military.

So why should we allow you to pursue  such  objectives  when  you  so  readily

interfere with our own?" "Alpha Red wouldn't have  won  the  war,"  Luke  said

calmly. "It would have turned us all  into  monsters."  "That's  the  war  I'm

talking about," Jacen said, stepping down into  the  center  of  the  circular

bridge to join the others. "The war against ourselves."  Irolia  took  a  long

moment to consider this. "It  surprises  me  to  see  Imperials  and  the  New

Republic working alongside each other," she said finally.

"We are no longer referred to as the New Republic," Luke said, ''We  have

a new name now: the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances."  "And  the  Empire

has freely joined this Alliance?" Irolia asked, glancing at Yage.

"It has," the captain said.

"I suppose the Chiss are welcome to join, too." Luke  seemed  unfazed  by

the commander's sarcasm. "The decision would be  yours.  But  yes,  you  would

indeed be welcome to join in due course." Irolia snorted derisively but didn't

address the Jedi Master's comment. Instead she said,  "What  concerns  me  the

most here, I think, is the makeup of your senior crew.

Master Skywalker shrugged. "I have already explained  that  the  military

contingent is purely defensive." "That might indeed be true. But the intention

lies in its leaders. Mara  Jade  Skywalker,  Luke  Skywalker,  Jacen  Solo-all

renowned Jedi warriors." "Danni Quee  is  an  accomplished  scientist,"  Jacen

pointed out.

"Yes, I recognize that name. And Soron Hegerty we know, of  course.  They

fit in with your stated aims." Danni looked both startled and flattered to  be

recognized; Hegerty, on the other hand, showed no reaction at all.

"But you also have a Barabel among you," Irolia continued. "How  does  it

fit in?" Saba stiffened.

"She is a Jedi Knight," Luke said.

"Another warrior, then?" "Not in the sense that you mean." "Really?  Most

reptilian species I've ever met have been aggressive  and  predatory."  Saba's

tail thumped the floor. She couldn't help it.

Captain Yage took a step forward at this. "Tell me, Commander, how  would

you feel if I were to tell you that most Chiss I've met have been arrogant and

condescending." Luke signaled for patience. "Saba is life-sensitive.  We  hope

that she will detect Zonama Sekot by its Force emissions when we are near it."

"Have you had any luck so far in this?" "Not yet. That's why we need  to  keep

searching." Irolia nodded after some thought. "Very well, Master Skywalker.  I

will agree to this only because we, too, would like to see this war brought to

an end." She signaled to her bodyguards, who handed her  a  flat,  rectangular

package about the same size  as  her  outstretched  hand.  "This  memory  disk

contains authority codes and routes sufficient to get you to Csilla. They will

remain active for one week. In that time, you must present yourself in  person

to obtain permission to travel within our boundaries. Without that permission,

any trespass will be regarded as an act of aggression, upon which you will  be

expelled or destroyed.

Do I make myself clear?" Luke accepted the disk  with  a  resigned  look.

"Abundantly clear." "Then my mission here  is  complete."  Commander  Irolia's

gaze briefly swept the room. "Perhaps we shall  all  meet  again  on  Csilla."

"That's all you came here for?" Captain Yage asked. "To tell us to  report  to

your superiors?" "Not quite," Irolia answered. "I was ordered to give you  the

disk only if I thought you  trustworthy."  "And  if  we  weren't?"  The  Chiss

commander smiled at this,  but  said  nothing  in  reply.  She  simply  nodded

farewell and, with an imperious gesture, ordered her bodyguards to follow  her

as she strolled from the bridge.

"Why that trumped-up little-" Again, Luke silenced Captain  Yage  with  a

gesture. "She's just doing her job, Arien.  We  can't  blame  her  for  that."

"Nevertheless, I'll be happier when she's off my ship."  She  turned  away  to

coordinate the disembarkation of the Chiss shuttle.

"I can understand perfectly where you're coming from, Captain Yage."  The

hologram broke into static, then cleared to  reveal  the  face  of  Mara  Jade

Skywalker at the controls oijade Shadow. "I don't even want that woman  on  my

scopes." "You caught all that, Mara?" Luke asked, facing the image of his wife

in the holofield.

" Loud and clear." "What gets up my jets," Yage said, "is the  assumption

that we're answerable to them at all. The Empire has been  collaborating  with

the Chiss for years, ever since Thrawn's day. But there's no  treaty-we  don't

owe them anything. Just the idea of having to report our every I  movement  to

them makes my hair stand on end." "We have to  respect  that  we're  in  their

territory now, Arien," Luke said. "And they do things differently than we do."

"Assuming we are in their territory," Mara said. "How about  looking  at  that

disk?" Jacen took it from his uncle and put it into a reader.  As  Irolia  had

promised, it contained routes and security codes, but nothing else. The  Chiss

were tight-lipped when it came to doling out information. They were  lucky  to

get this much.

"Thoughts, anyone?" Luke asked. "Do we plow on regardless, or  should  we

comply with their request and report in?" "It's your decision," Yage said.

"Yes, but to reach that decision I would like to hear everyone's opinion.

" "I don't think there's any great harm in doing what they say," Mara said.

"Even though it does irk me." "I say to the Maw with them," Yage put  in.

"They can't tell us what to do." Luke nodded quietly to both women's comments.

"Jacen?" "We'll need access to their information,"  his  nephew  replied.  "It

would make things much simpler. Soron's data is  accurate  but  doesn't  cover

more than ten percent of the Unknown Regions." The  xenobiologist  had  looked

slightly bored throughout the political exchange, but seemed to  perk  up  now

that she'd been brought into the conversation. "The Chiss have been  expanding

through this section of the galaxy for decades. Irolia  clearly  knew  of  the

legend of the wandering planet, so it  must  be  common  knowledge  among  her

people. I believe access to their data would be invaluable."

"But would it actually make the difference, do you  think?"  Luke  folded

his hands in front of him, as he so often did when pondering weighty  matters.

"It certainly might." Hegerty nodded at the map.

This small amount of data has already told us something interesting. Note

the outer edge of their territory. See  how  it  has  held  firm  against  the

Yuuzhan Vong incursion? They have either developed similar jamming and  combat

techniques as your own fighters, or the enemy has withdrawn its  offensive  in

order to concentrate on other areas. I would imagine that the answer  to  this

mystery would be of interest to  your  tacticians  back  home."  There  was  a

general murmur of agreement following  that  observation.  The  heads  of  the

Galactic Alliance seemed an awfully long way from  the  Unknown  Regions,  but

Hegerty-and Irolia-was quite right. Luke's mission was military  at  least  in

the sense that any information of military value would immediately be added to

the war effort. Even though galaxy wide communications didn't reach  into  the

Unknown Regions, subspace transmissions could be relayed through  an  isolated

holocomm on the edge of Galactic Alliance space. All communications  from  the

mission were relayed to Cal Omas immediately.

Luke nodded. "You might be right. But tell me, Saba:  have  you  detected

any sign of Zonama Sekot in this vicinity? If we are hot on its scent, then we

might not need to contact the Chiss at all." Saba straightened,  her  nostrils

flaring involuntarily. "I sense nothing. If Zonama Sekot iz here, it  iz  well

hidden." "I thought as much. It's like  looking  for  a  droid  in  a  desert:

something's more likely to find us before we find it." He nodded  again.  "I'm

of the opinion that we should do as Irolia says and check in  with  the  local

authorities. As Soron said, it couldn't hurt. And who knows; it might actually

Tielp." He glanced around to everyone, as though waiting to see if there  were

any objections to his decision.

When no one spoke up, he said, "Okay, then. I'll leave the details of the

course with Mara and Arien to prepare. Those of us who  just  came  back  from

Munlali Mafir will need a break before we take on anything else." Captain Yage

smiled. "I'm sure you won't get any  argument  from  Doctor  Hegerty  on  that

score." The meeting broke up, then, leaving Mara Jade Sky-walker  and  Captain

Yage to discuss the finer points of the Chiss  map.  Luke  motioned  to  Saba,

Jacen, and Hegerty, and they joined  him  for  a  quiet  discussion  near  the

bridge's exit.

"How did Tekli get on with the Jostran?" was the first thing he asked his

nephew.

"It was touch and go for a  while,"  the  young  Jedi  replied.  "Another

centimeter and it would have been too late. But she caught it." "That's good,"

the Jedi Master said with a solemn expression. "I would  have  hated  to  lose

someone else." The reminder of the two stormtroopers killed on  Munlali  Mafir

was sobering. "This one has examined the  data  you  gathered,  Master,"  Saba

said. "There iza correlation with the other regionz through which Zonama Sekot

iz  recorded  to  have  passed.  The   Jostran/Krizlaw   symbionts   are   not

technologically advanced, so they do not pose an immediate  threat.  But  they

are aggressive by nature. The living planet seems to  have  exhibited  similar

avoidance tacticz elsewhere." "The Krizlaws are  certainly  aggressive,"  Luke

agreed, "That the Jostrans gave them intelligence  only  made  them  worse.  I

wonder, then, could this be what it's running from? After all, we know  Zonama

Sekot has a strong presence in the Force. It might be simply  trying  to  hide

itself from anything it associates with  violence."  "It  iz  possible,"  Saba

said.

There followed a moment of pensive silence. Saba  suspected  the  silence

was due more to weariness than anything else.  Her  sensitive  nostrils  could

smell the exhaustion emanating from the  three  humans  around  her-especially

Master Skywalker and his nephew.

"You must rest," she said to them. "You will be no good to anyone if  you

do not." "You're quite right, Saba," Luke said. "I was just thinking about Dif

Scaur.

He's obviously told his side of the story to  the  Chiss."  Saba  nodded.

Scaur was the head of New Republic Intelligence;  he  had  worked  extensively

with the Chiss scientists on the virus Alpha Red, which would have  completely

wiped out the Yuuzhan Vong and all their biotechnology  had  it  been  brought

into play. That the Jedi had put a stop to the plan irked Scaur. He might  not

be above taking steps to thwart the Master's own plans in return.

"We'll see what's waiting  for  us  at  Csilla,"  Jacen  said,  his  gaze

drifting to where Danni Quee stood on the far side of the  badge.  "Forewarned

is forearmed." "But forearmed can lead to a foregone conclusion," Luke pointed

out. "We shouldn't jump ahead of ourselves. The last thing we need  now  is  a

self-fulfilling prophecy." "Just the usual  sort,"  Saba  said,  hissing  with

amusement.

But, as so often happened when she attempted a witticism, nobody laughed.

They just looked at her strangely.

The first thing Tahiri noticed as she stepped  over  the  threshold  into

Sentinel was the tension. It was like  an  overwhelming  odor  emanating  from

everything around her: the air, the walls, the floors, the light fittings-even

from the people themselves. She winced; it was more  a  physical  reaction  to

something she was sensing through the Force.  What  caused  it,  however,  she

couldn't tell. She just knew it was there.

The second thing she noticed was the briskness  of  the  salute  Princess

Leia and Han received as they  stepped  through  the  air  lock.  The  guards,

dressed in dark green uniforms, fairly jumped to attention like wires snapping

taut.

She didn't think the reaction came from any  Palpatine-style  discipline,

though; Bakura was a peaceful world, with no history of  dictators  since  the

last Imperial governor, Nereus,  had  been  overthrown  during  the  Ssi-ruuvi

crisis. More likely, she thought, the guards were reacting to the same tension

in the air that she had detected. Something was making everyone jumpy.

A short, stiff-backed man with thinning red hair and a  mustache  stepped

through the lines of Bakuran security guards.

"Grell Panib," he said by way of introduction, bowing  sharply  first  to

Leia, then Han. The rest of the party - herself, Jaina, C-3PO,  Leia's  Noghri

bodyguards, and a small honor guard from Pride  of  Selonia-were  acknowledged

with a curt nod. "Welcome to Bakura." "It's been a  while,"  Han  said  dryly.

"You served  under  Pter  Thanas,  didn't  you?"  Princess  Leia  didn't  miss

anything.

A glimpse of sadness passed across General Panib's face. "You have a fine

memory, Princess. We barely met." "It was a memorable  trip."  She  smiled  as

though at some private joke, then introduced the rest of the party. "Thank you

all for-" Panib began,  but  a  commotion  from  behind  the  security  guards

interrupted him. There j was the sound of scuffling as someone pushed forward.

"I told you to wait for me to call you!" Not someone, Tahiri thought, her

heart suddenlypounding as, through  the  tangle  of  people,  she  glimpsed  a

reptilian creature bounding toward them. Something.

She instantly drew her lightsaber as the memory of her dreams  lifted  to

emphasize her fears. Tahiri... Tahiri... Tahiri... The godlike lizard creature

from her dreams beckoned her.

She blinked once, twice, to clear her head as her lightsaber crackled  in

front of her.

"A trap!" Jaina shouted. She, too, withdrew her lightsaber. At  the  same

time, the stormtroopers raised their blasters and the  Noghri  guards  stepped

forward to protect the Princess.

"No!" Panib quickly put himself between the reptilian creature and  their

weapons. "His intentions are not hostile!" The creature emerged from the  line

of security guards, its claws skittering piercingly on the corridor  floor  as

it came to a halt behind the general.

The alien was a beaked reptile with a long,  muscular  tail.  Its  scales

were a dull brown,  and  beneath  prominent  ridges  its  golden  eyes  danced

alarmingly. It wore a leathery harness to which were strapped  numerous  items

that could have been either tools or badges of rank.

"This is  I  wothin,"  General  Panib  said,  clearly  unsettled  by  the

visitors' reaction. "I assure you that-" A sudden burst of piercing tones from

the creature interrupted him.

When it was over, Han pretended to clean out his ear. "Did  anyone  catch

that?" "I did, sir," C-3PO answered, oblivious to the fact that it had been  a

rhetorical question. "He says that he is the advance  leader  of  the  P'w'eck

Emancipation Movement, and that he welcomes us. He refers to us as 'allies  of

the free.' " Tahiri felt the uncertainty of those  around  her  as  more  loud

fluting sounded from the creature.

" 'I mean you no harm,' " 3PO translated."Well,  that  makes  me  feel  a

whole lot easier," Han said in a rone that suggested the exact opposite.

"I do apologize for this," Panib said. "The P'w'eck are  unaccustomed  to

advanced protocol-human or otherwise. They've only recently thrown  off  their

shackles and I started speaking for themselves, as it were." Leia  called  for

everyone to put their weapons away as | she eased past the Noghri  bodyguards,

who parted for her without protest. She stepped up to Lwothin, wearing a thin,

perhaps nervous, smile.

"Threepio, tell Lwothin that we are pleased to meet him," she  instructed

the protocol droid. "If indeed he is a 'him.' " "He assures us  that  he  is,"

Panib said. "And there is no need for your droid to act as  mediator  in  your

dialogue with him, either. He can  understand  what  you're  saying  perfectly

well. We don't like using droids much here, so if you prefer we can supply you

with earpiece translators that  will  do  the  job  equally  as  well."  C-3PO

bristled at the suggestion that his talents  might  be  unnecessary,  or  even

distasteful. "With all due respect, sir, I was  designed  for  precisely  this

kind of situation. I am fluent in over six million languages and-" "What  he's

saying, General," Leia interrupted, "is that we'll get by."Lwothin's  nostril-

tongues tasted the air as he followed the exchange. The  P'w'eck  was  smaller

than an average Ssi-ruu, although not by much-but he was still bigger than the

average human. Muscles bunched under his leathery skin,  and  his  thick  tail

swished back and forth in a regular, easy rhythm. It was an alarming presence,

made all the more unsettling when Tahiri looked up into the creature's face to

find his three-lidded amber eyes staring out at her-almost as if  reading  her

reservations. She knew that  Leia  had  instructed  everyone  to  lower  their

weapons, but Tahiri found her thumb still hovering over the activation stud of

her lightsaber.

"You bring Jedi Knights," Lwothin sang through C-3PO.  "I  had  hoped  to

meet one. The lightsaber is a delightful weapon:  an  elegant  blend  of  life

energy and material design. Our divergent  technologies  become  one  in  such

devices." Leia's cautious attitude became markedly frostier.  "You  still  use

entechment?" Panib stepped forward again. "I don't think this  is  either  the

time or the place for such involved discussions. Perhaps  we  should  move  to

surroundings more comfortable for all species. Yes?" "We're not going anywhere

until Leia gets an answer," Han said, his hand back on his blaster.  "I'm  not

about to have my life energy sucked out of me while my guard is down." Lwothin

danced agitatedly on the spot, fluting urgently to C-3PO.

"He assures us that the process is not the same as you remember it,"  the

golden droid informed them. "It has been  refined  considerably.  The  P'w'eck

come in peace, he says, not war." Han looked around suspiciously. "Leia?"  "As

uncomfortable as I am about all of this," Leia said, "I don't see the point in

turning back now."  She  faced  Panib.  "But  understand  this:  the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances will never sanction any form of alliance  with  a

government that exploits the life energy of its subjects-no  matter  who  they

are, or were." "You think the P'w'eck are getting back at their old  masters?"

Panib said. "I can assure you that's  not  the  case."  "No  one  is  enteched

against their will anymore," C-3PO continued to interpret. "If you let us,  we

will explain." Leia nodded solemnly. "I'd like to hear that.  And  then  maybe

you can also explain what's happened to Prime Minister Cundertol." Panib bowed

and Lwothin jigged on the spot.

"Please follow me," General Panib said.

Han came up alongside Leia and gently put an arm about her, and  together

they walked in the  general's  footsteps  as  he  led  them  deeper  into  the

Sentinel. Jaina and Tahiri followed,  C-3PO  between  them  and  the  Galactic

Alliance guards behind.

Jaina was a picture of controlled energy, eyes glancing all around-except

at Tahiri. It was as if she was deliberately avoiding her eyes.

That hurt Tahiri. Jaina had exchanged  barely  a  monosyllable  with  her

since Galantos. And Jag Fel was no better. Every now and  then,  she  felt  as

though they were watching her from afar. They hadn't had to say anything;  she

could feel their distrust in her, and that hurt her more than any words  could

ever hope to.

As they walked off together,  Tahiri  felt  the  scars  on  her  forehead

itching. She fought the urge to scratch. She felt self-conscious about them as

it was, without drawing any more attention  to  the  unsightly  markings.  The

self-inflicted ones on her arm had all but healed, and remained hidden beneath

the sleeve of her tunic. She had considered  getting  rid  of  them,  but  had

decided to keep them,  for  now,  out  of  an  instinct  she  didn't  entirely

understand and didn't want to think about too closely.  There  were  far  more

important things to dwell upon.

Sentinel boasted  a  large  meeting  hall  on  an  outer  level,  with  a

transparent ceiling that afforded a magnificent viewport to the stars.  During

combat, steelcrete shields would slide shut over the top for  protection,  but

during more tranquil times it offered a wonderful view of Bakura.  The  green-

blue world hung like a fat moon above  a  ring-shaped  conference  table  that

floated on a bed of repulsors. There were enough seats for  everyone  who  had

entered the hall, but only those who'd be involved  in  the  discussions  were

invited to sit around the table.

Jaina stood directly behind her parents, her hand  on  the  hilt  of  her

lightsaber. She didn't like being so far away from reinforcements in  such  an

unknown situation, and having her weapon within constant reach went a long way

toward easing her apprehensions. Everyone knew that the Ssi-ruuk were adept at

mental coercion; who was to say that General Panib wasn't a brainwashed  slave

intending to deliver the delegates from the Galactic Alliance to  his  masters

at the first opportunity?

The presence of the P'w'eck didn't particularly reassure her, either.  In

fact, when two more of the creatures had joined  Lwothin,  Jaina's  misgivings

had intensified immediately. She assumed them to be bodyguards by the way they

took up position behind Lwothin, although she had to admit  they  didn't  look

any different in appearance from their superior. They wore odd-looking weapons

fastened to their harnesses: flat disks with  businesslike  snouts  protruding

from one end. Paddle beamers, she assumed. The energy beams  of  such  weapons

couldn't be deflected by lightsabers, but  they  could  certainly  be  bent  a

little.

Lwothin himself did not have a physique that allowed him to sit on chairs

like the others present, so he was sprawled out on an assortment  of  cushions

at his appointed place around the table. This didn't detract in any  way  from

his intimidating mien.

"Elaine Harris, the Deputy Prime Minister,  is  on  his  way  from  Salis

D'aar," Panib said by way of preamble. "But we shall begin  without  him."  "I

wouldn't say we're a captive audience," Han said, sitting restlessly at Leia's

side, "but we're prepared to hear you out." "You've come  at  a  very  awkward

time for us. I hardly know where to begin." "You could start with entechment,"

Leia said.

"We know that you think it an abomination," Lwothin said  through  C-3PO.

"And I can sympathize with your feelings. My species has been exploited by  it

for thousands of years. We know its past evil." "Be that as it may," Han said.

"But I've seen plenty of slaves point the same weapons at their  masters  once

they'd won their freedom." "I'll admit the  temptation  was  strong,"  Lwothin

said, his beak clicking together at the end of the short phrase. " But perhaps

I should tell you the story of how we came to be here.  Maybe  then  you  will

understand us better." Jaina saw her mother nod  for  him  to  continue,  then

settled back into the large, upright chair to listen.

"It has been almost thirty years since the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium  waged  war

in this section of the galaxy," he began.  Jaina  knew  the  story.  Initially

courted by Emperor Palpatine, the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium had expanded aggressively

into Imperial territories, starting with Bakura. Unfortunately  for  the  Ssi-

ruuk, that advance  had  been  immediately  repelled  by  the  local  Imperial

government, with the unlikely help of the Rebel Alliance.  Further  incursions

into the galaxy were  discouraged  by  the  New  Republic,  which  forced  the

Imperium back to its homeworlds. Nothing had been heard from them since. Jaina

gathered that everyone assumed they either had  learned  the  error  of  their

ways, or were gradually stockpiling for a more determined surge. Just like the

Yevetha, she thought.

"In fact," Lwothin said, "our former masters  were  assessing  more  than

just their tactics in  the  wake  of  their  defeat."  Ssi-ruuvi  society  was

strictly clan-based, he explained, with each clan designated by the  color  of

their scales. The absolute ruler was the Shreeftut, assisted  by  the  Elders'

Council and the Conclave. The Conclave  advised  the  Shreeftut  on  spiritual

matters-another aspect of life considered  very  important  by  the  Ssi-ruuk.

Their belief system taught that the spirit of any Ssi-ruu who died away from a

consecrated world would be lost forever. It was for that reason that the  Ssi-

ruuk preferred to use combat droids powered by the enteched souls of  captives

to fight their enemies rather than risk their own lives in battle.

"Entechment had served our masters well  for  many  centuries.  They  had

never seen any reason to change. The abhorrence with  which  you  greeted  the

technology came as a complete surprise to them.  They  had  assumed  that  all

cultures would employ the same techniques. That you  didn't  only  underscored

the novelty of the'technology you did use: that of fusion and ordinary matter.

"Clearly the Rebel Alliance beat our former masters for more reasons than

different technology, but that was one aspect they could focus  on.  They  had

seen Imperial and Rebel Alliance vessels in action above  and  around  Bakura.

They knew enough material physics to  back-engineer  the  technology  and  re-

create it in their laboratories. Within ten  standard  years,  they  possessed

prototype hybrid vessels that employed your technology for shields and engines

but were directed by enteched minds. With a  significantly  reduced  drain  on

their life forces, such pilots existed much longer  and  in  less  agony  than

before." "But they were still enteched," Han interrupted.

"Yes. The mind of every prototype  droid  fighter  consisted  of  a  soul

stolen from the body of a P'w'eck. The fact  that  their  suffering  had  been

lessened was balanced by the fact that they suffered longer. The situation was

still undeniably wrong.

"Into this time, the Keeramak was born." A new note entered the P'w'eck's

voice. It might have been fear, Jaina thought. Or maybe awe.

"What is this Keeramak?" Leia asked.

"It is hard to explain in terms that you might understand. You know  that

those of the Ssi-ruuk with blue scales ruled the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium, and  that

the gold-scales were our priests. Yellow-scales studied the sciences of matter

and energy. Those with russet scales were our warriors, while those with green

scales were workers. Below them, barely  above  my  own  species,  were  those

resulting from a  mixed  or  unsuccessful  breeding:  the  brown-scales.  Some

suspected them of being the progenitors of the P'w'eck in ages past.  Regarded

as dim-witted and brutish, they were fit only for the most  menial  of  lives.

Many, especially those born of a forbidden union, were destroyed at birth.

"That was the world into which the Keeramak was born. It is important you

understand this, because the Keeramak should not exist.  One  of  a  brood  of

brownscale Ssi-ruuk, the Keeramak alone possessed color. But it does not  just

have one color: the Keeramak has all colors. That  is  what  makes  it  unique

among the Ssi-ruuk." Lwothin performed a  complicated  gesture  involving  the

muscles of his tail and spine, as though shrugging his entire body. "That  the

Keeramak was a sport, a deviant birth, was clear. It had no clear gender,  and

its size was anomalous.

But that was irrelevant. Its birth sent shock waves through the Ssi-ruuk.

They place a great value on spiritual matters, as you know, and such  a  birth

had been prophesied for millennia. The Keeramak, the  birth  of  many  colors,

would be the one to take the oppressed and make them lords; the Keeramak would

make the weak strong." "What you're saying," Han said, "is that  the  Ssi-ruuk

embraced the Keeramak because they thought it would lead them to victory  over

us, right?" "That is correct," Lwothin said. "They raised it like a king, with

every privilege and opportunity to learn and grow. The Keeramak soon proved to

be exceptional in all respects: strong, intelligent, wise. It argued with  the

Shreef-tut over the limitations  of  power,  it  challenged  the  Conclave  on

matters of theology, and it rivaled the Elders' Council when it came to  minor

points of law. But ultimately it was the Keeramak's compassion  that  was  its

greatest point-as well as the Ssi-ruuk's undoing." "It chose you  over  them?"

Leia asked.

"The Keeramak was the one who led us to victory over our former  masters.

It conceived our revolt and consolidated the aftermath. Within a year,  Lwhekk

was ours and the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium a thing of the past. And now,  five  years

on, the Keeramak still guides our destiny." "Impressive," Leia said. "Throwing

off an oppressor is only the beginning of a long and difficult journey." Jaina

nodded, knowing that her mother spoke from experience.

"In  the  wake  of  our  liberation,  we  have  continued  research  into

entechment," Lwothin said, through C-3PO. "We have found ways to  nourish  the

stored minds reclaimed during our revolution. The life energy  distilled  from

concentrated banks of algae and other primitive  life-forms  can  prevent  the

decay common to previous soul-captures. It also goes a long way toward staving

off the discomfort many feel when enteched. Now that we have diverted much  of

the life-draining work to your forms of technology and reduced the  strain  on

the enteched soul, we have reversed many of the wrongs  forced  upon  captives

and slaves in the past.

"The droid fighters you saw today are piloted by those  enteched  in  the

last days of the Imperium." Lwothin's triple eyelids blinked in a  complicated

manner.

"Although we do continue to  offer  entechment  as  a  form  of  military

service, there are few who willingly sacrifice their physical  lives.  There's

no way back, of course. Such a decision is not lightly  made."  "I'm  sure  it

wouldn't be," Leia said as she faced General Panib.

From the tone of  her  mother's  voice,  coupled  with  the  set  of  her

shoulders and the way she sat in the chair before her, Jaina  could  tell  she

wasn't entirely convinced by Lwothin's lengthy explanation-even though it  did

concur with the odd Force readings they'd had from the droid fighters.

"General Panib, have you seen anything to contradict Lwothin's  statement

that no one has been enteched against his or her will?" "None of us have  been

enteched, if that's what you're getting at," the general said. "In fact, there

have been no aggressive moves made against us whatsoever.

Although..." "What?" Han prompted, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"Well, that's something else we will need to talk about: why you've  come

at such a bad time. The P'w'eck arrived here two weeks ago, offering a treaty.

Prime Minister Cundertol and the Senate deliberated for days  before  arriving

at the decision to accept the offer. The Prime Minister's announcement  caused

a few riots. It's hard to explain to the general population  that  we  haven't

sold them out." "I can understand that," Han muttered.

"We thought the people were coming around," Panib went on.  "The  defense

advantages of joining with the P'w'eck are obvious, given the  Yuuzhan  Vong's

gradual drift this way. And we had a lot be grateful to them for,  since  they

did get rid of the Ssi-ruuvi threat." Panib fidgeted uneasily. "But there  are

complications-and conditions." "Such as?" Leia asked.

"Lwothin has mentioned religion; the P'w'eck are  like  the  Ssi-ruuk  in

that  they  share  some  of  the  same  traditions.  In  order  to  make  them

comfortable, there are details we have to attend  to.  Cundertol  wanted  this

Keeramak of theirs to come to Bakura to sign the treaty in person, but  he-it-

wouldn't come unless Bakura was consecrated. You see,  it  believes  like  the

rest of the Ssi-ruuk that if it dies away from one of the sacred worlds,  then

its soul will be lost forever. And the fact is, assassination isn't out of the

question-especially given the volatile temperament of some of the public right

now." His glance to Lwothin was filled with apology.  "We  are  neighbors;  we

must learn to trade and fight side by side. If Bakura and the P'w'eck  are  to

work together, then we have to consider all our religious beliefs.  We'd  like

them to feel safe enough to visit here. Toward this end, Cundertol managed  to

find  a  compromise:  the  Keeramak  would  come  to  Bakura  to  perform  the

consecration in person. The ceremony was planned for two days from now. That's

where  things  stood  when-"  "When  Prime  Minister  Cundertol  disappeared,"

interrupted a voice from the entrance to the chamber.

Jaina's grip on her lightsaber tightened instinctively as she  turned  to

see a tall, aging man in a scarlet robe approach the table. His face was  long

and angular, the bones beneath clearly showing.  Two  Bakuran  guards  closely

shadowed him, rifles held firmly across their chests.

"Deputy  Prime  Minister  Harris,"  Panib  said,  standing.  He   sounded

relieved. "Thank you for joining us." Harris indicated for Panib to return  to

his seat, then nodded to everyone else around the table by  way  of  greeting.

"Princess Leia, Captain Solo: it's a pleasure to meet you again. And of course

you, Lwothin." An attendant brought up a chair, and he sat between the P'w'eck

and Leia."I apologize for the delay," he said to Panib, "but there was a  bomb

threat at the main spaceport and I had to take a shuttle from Lesser Grace. As

you can see," he explained to the rest of the table, "we are suffering from  a

pronounced civil unrest. Not on behalf of the majority, I imagine, but  rather

a violent and unprincipled minority  who  think  they  know  what's  best  for

Bakura. This minority has decided that the P'w'eck are no different  from  the

Ssi-ruuk, and the Keeramak's visit here is nothing more than an elaborate ruse

that will result in the entech-ment of everyone. 'Once  an  enemy,  always  an

enemy' is their maxim.

There  is  simply  no  room  for  negotiation."  He  clenched  his  fists

helplessly on the table. His gaze fell upon Leia and Han.  "I  understand  you

have experienced interference from them already." "A secure  transmission  was

interrupted by someone warning us away," Leia said. "Whoever it was had access

to comm channels that should have been  restricted."  "They  are  everywhere,"

Harris said sourly. "As the consecration looms, their  desperation  increases.

They have been behind at least five disruptions to subspace communications  in

the last fortnight. Kidnapping Mo-lierre Cundertol  was  an  act  of  suicidal

bravado. It is strange but, while I have to condemn  their  methods,  I  can't

help admire their spirit." He shook his head sadly.

"Nevertheless, we will never  negotiate  with  terrorists."  "What  about

Cundertol?" Han asked. "Any idea where he's being kept?" "We'll find out  soon

enough. Especially now that we  have  the  terrorist  leader  in  our  hands."

General Panib was clearly taken aback by this news.  "Since  when?"  "She  was

taken into custody shortly before I left to  come  here.  We  have  her  in  a

security holding cell, awaiting interrogation." "Is she-" Panib hesitated.  "-

who we suspected she was?" "Malinza  Thanas,"  Harris  answered  with  a  smug

smile. "Yes." The surprise in the room was  palpable.  Jaina  knew  the  name.

Malinza Thanas was the daughter of people her parents and Uncle Luke  had  met

on Bakura the first time they'd visited. When Malinza's parents had died, Luke

and Mara had taken her on as a sponsor child, visiting her a couple of  times.

She'd heard nothing about the girl being a terrorist leader, however.

"Malinza?" Leia asked. "Are you certain of  this?"  "There's  no  doubt,"

Harris stated. "She admits it herself." "She admits she  kidnapped  the  Prime

Minister?" Panib asked.

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time." "When you say 'interrogation'-

" "I don't mean to imply torture, Princess," Harris said. "We are a  civilized

people, and it would take more than a little civil  unrest  to  reduce  us  to

savages." "This doesn't add up." Han was shaking his head. "Whoever  we  spoke

to when we arrived warned us away because they  thought  we  were  after  your

ships. They implied that the P'w'eck were your allies.  But  that  contradicts

what you've just told us about the terrorists. If  they're  anti-P'w'eck  they

wouldn't want any association with them at all." "What can  I  say?  They  are

confused and directionless, their aims unclear  even  to  themselves."  Harris

shrugged dismissively. "We have suffered at the  hands  of  such  isolationist

groups ever since the overthrow of the Empire.  There  are  indeed  those  who

resent the intrusion of the New Republic into our affairs. Some of  these  may

have allied themselves with the anti-P'w'eck movement to gain the illusion  of

numbers. Such people won't be happy until Bakura stands alone against the rest

of the galaxy - and inevitably falls alone, too." "So what now?" Panib asked.

"The first thing, General, is to put our house in order.  While  we  look

for the Prime Minister, I suggest we end martial law  and  begin  preparations

for the consecration. The treaty depends on it; the Prime Minister  would  not

want it delayed for anything. With your permission, I shall convene the Senate

and get things  moving."  "Of  course."  The  general's  relief  was  obvious.

"There's not much time, and a lot  to  be  done."  Lwothin  spoke  up.  "  'We

understand that this is a difficult time for you,' " C-3PO translated, "  'and

we are grateful for your continued efforts to bring our governments together.'

" The P'w'eck's beak snapped emphatically. " I will convey  my  assurances  to

the Keeramak that all is in order and the ceremony will go ahead as  planned.'

': "Thank you, my friend." Blaine Harris inclined his head in the direction of

the P'w'eck ambassador. "And you, of course," he added to Han and  Leia,  "are

very welcome to attend also. I'm sure it will be a fascinating glimpse into  a

culture we've theorized about for many years, but never had the opportunity to

see with our own eyes." "We'd be honored," Leia said. "The Galactic Federation

of Free Alliances will be very interested to observe  the  ceremony."  General

Panib stood, and the others around the table followed suit. "I hope you  won't

be offended if I call this meeting to an end, but I  have  urgent  matters  to

discuss with the Deputy  Prime  Minister."  "Of  course."  Leia  accepted  the

explanation with her usual diplomatic aplomb. "And thank you  for  taking  the

time to explain the situation here. There are still some aspects I'd  like  to

discuss in more detail at a later date, if possible." "It would be my pleasure

to accommodate you," the general said. He spoke and moved  with  a  confidence

that had been lacking before the Deputy Prime Minister's news.  "And  I  shall

ensure that Salis D'aar spaceport is secured for your arrival. Hopefully  with

Thanas in custody, the situation will cool down a little now." Leia  bowed  in

acknowledgment.

The Deputy Prime Minister bowed also as Leia and Han's party filed toward

the exit. Lwothin and his two bodyguards followed close behind,  and  although

he made no effort to come too close, Jaina still made sure to position herself

carefully between her parents and the powerful saurian.

Once outside, the P'w'eck fluted in his loud, melodic way.

"Lwothin says that this is a pivotal time for  all  our  species,"  C-3PO

interpreted. More fluting and gesturing followed. "He also  says  that  he  is

glad that you will be attending the ceremony. The  Keeramak  will  be  pleased

when it hears the news." Without waiting for a response,  the  P'w'eck  headed

off down the corridor, bodyguards in tow.

"Chirpy fellow, ain't he?" Han said.

"Something's not adding up here," Jaina said. She was  glad  the  meeting

was over and she was once again able to be involved in discussions.  "How  can

the Bakuran resistance be everywhere and yet still be  a  minority?"  "Maximum

disruption," Leia said, "for minimum effort. We  could  be  seeing  the  Peace

Brigade at work here." "What's left of them," Han muttered. "It's like getting

a dent out of a deflector grille, even after Ylesia." "At least we're not  too

late this time," Jaina said, the destruction of  N'zoth  still  fresh  in  her

mind.

"That's assuming, of course," Leia said, "that we have the  full  story."

"The story, Yu'shaa. Tell us the story," whispered the acolytes  crowding  the

darkened audience hall. "Tell us about the Jeedai." The Prophet gazed down  at

them from his throne, his expression hidden behind a mask  of  truly  horrific

proportions. A maze of scars and tattoos, it  was  barely  recognizable  as  a

face.

"Who asks?" he demanded in accordance with the service.

"We do, Yu'shaa," the pilgrims responded with a unified bowing  of  their

heads.

"We are the Shamed Ones, and we come to  you  for  wisdom."  The  Prophet

nodded, satisfied by  the  formal  response.  Warders  outside  the  hall  had

carefully instructed the audience on how and when to speak. The being  on  the

inside of the mask smiled to himself,  knowing  that  these  conventions  were

nothing more than a sham  to  encourage  obedience  to  him  and,  ultimately,

rebellion against his enemies.

Nom Anor rose from his seat on the  throne  and  removed  the  mask.  The

hideous creation was meant to  represent  Shimrra  and  the  gods,  while  its

removal symbolized the casting off of the  old  ways.  He  had  devised  every

detail of the ceremony  with  the  help  of  Shoon-mi  and  Kunra,  his  chief

acolytes, but no matter how many times he did it, it still felt  clumsy.  Only

the reactions of the converts convinced him that it was working.

The acolytes looked wonderingly up at Nom Anor's  "real"  face-not  aware

that this was just another mask, an ooglith masquer designed to make him  look

like a member of the Shamed caste. "The gods have granted  me  a  vision,"  he

announced. "It is a vision of a galaxy of beautiful worlds-worlds in which all

Yuuzhan Vong can live in peace as well as in glory, free of  shame,  and  with

everything their hearts and souls desire."  In  recent  weeks,  Nom  Anor  had

learned to become more animated and expressive when addressing the groups that

came to hear him speak. At first he had just sat there and spoken, but he soon

found the attention of the Shamed Ones would drift beneath his dull monotones.

So he'd adopted some of the techniques he  had  observed  in  Vuu-rok  I'pan-a

storyteller from the group of Shamed Ones that had first taken him  in  during

his initial exile to Yuu-zhan'tar's underworld. Nom Anor clearly recalled  how

I'pan had told the story of Vua Rapuung, and how those gathered  had  listened

intently, hanging from his every word-even though they had heard the  tale  so

many times before.

"But as I gazed upon this vision," Nom Anor went on with dramatic  flair,

"a dark shadow came between my hungry eyes and the sight of  the  worlds  that

should be ours. The huge, black shadow had rainbows that shined from its eyes;

its mighty hands were darkened from bloodstains."  The  congregation  listened

spellbound, just as I'pan's audience had once listened to him. Nom Anor raised

a hand to demand silence-an unnecessary gesture since the silence was  already

profound, but one that served to reinforce his command over the gathering.

"The gods opposed the  great  shadow,  the  Rainbow-Eyed  Ore,  and  they

brought forth their holy warriors to strike it down!" He stared  down  at  the

crowd. "You know the name of these  warriors."  The  whisper  surrounded  him.

"Jeedai!" He nodded his approval, and leaned forward as  though  to  impart  a

great secret. And it was a great secret, for uttering it could easily mean the

death of everyone in the room.

"Yes, the gods sent the Jeedai to drive away the Rainbow-Eyed Enemy.  For

weeks and months they fought. The Shadow killed many of the holy warriors, and

kept the rest at bay. Night fell across the galaxy, and it  seemed  as  though

the war was hopelessly lost. Our home had been taken from us! The Yuuzhan Vong

were no longer favored by the gods, for we had debased ourselves on the  altar

of the Shadow!" "No," moaned one in the congregation, shaking his  head.  Even

from his place at the front of the congregation, Nom Anor could smell the rank

odor of the Shamed One's decaying arm.

He smiled inwardly. It was all too easy to work his will over the  loose-

knit congregations of heretics that infested the capital. Their  members  were

weak and desperate, while he was strong and resourceful.

"No indeed," he said. "Even as despair overcame me at the defeat  of  the

Jeedai, even as it seemed as  though  the  Rainbow-Eyed  One  would  never  be

stopped, the gods gave me hope. For just when all was dark, I saw the  grasses

of the field turn against the Shadow. I saw them rise and wrap around the feet

of the Rainbow-Eyed One. The Enemy stumbled and fell-and then the grasses rose

to bind the Shadow's mighty limbs! The grasses held this Foe of  the  gods  to

the ground, wrapping themselves around his throat and squeezing the very  life

from him, removing the influence of his black heart from the land!

"By themselves, each blade of grass was  weak;  but  together  they  were

mighty!" The congregation sighed with relief and joy at the exclamation.

"Let us be as the grass and twine about the  feet  of  our  adversary  to

bring him crashing down. For individually we may be weak, but like the  grass,

together we can be strong." The congregation hissed its appreciation, and  Nom

Anor basked in their approval. In all the years he'd served as an executor, he

had never had such an audience. It had been impossible to  speak  honestly  or

openly for fear of offending the warmaster or the  priests-or,  through  them,

the gods. Now he had the attention of  hundreds,  and  they  would  listen  to

anything he said. He was wise enough to realize, though, that  such  attention

would last only as long as they approved of his  message.  They  devoured  the

nonsense about the Jedi along with his message of  self-empowerment-and  while

he had no great belief in the former, he was very much in favor of the latter.

The Shamed Ones were his ride back to the surface. He was happy to  give  them

the means so he could achieve the end.

The allure of the means wasn't lost on him. As  an  executor,  he  hadn't

properly appreciated the need and strength of the  lower  castes.  The  Shamed

Ones were indeed weak individually, as he taught in his sermons, but this  was

easily made up for with their overwhelming numbers. The majority had  belonged

to the worker caste before their Shaming, but some had been  of  higher  rank.

Moreover, it wasn't just the Shamed Ones who answered his  call.  Converts  to

his Jedi cult were increasingly drawn from junior members  of  the  un-Shamed-

from the workers, the shapers, the warriors, the priests, and the inten-dants.

The shapers knew the tools of their trade, the priests and intendants knew how

to organize, and the warriors knew how to fight. Anyone who descended upon one

of these meetings to make arrests was in for a nasty surprise.

Although it was hard to remember sometimes, those in his audience weren't

particularly gullible. They weren't uneducated; they weren't stupid. They just

wanted authority, and he would give it to them.

When the muttering died away, he returned to the throne and motioned  the

audience to gather around him. In  reality,  the  chamber  was  just  a  large

basement hundreds of meters below the spires of Yuuzhan'tar, and his  "throne"

was just a chair coated in moss of different shades to  make  it  look  better

than it really was. It didn't matter. The congregation saw what it  wanted  to

see, just as it heard what it wanted to hear.

Nom Anor leaned forward to talk to them with less ceremony. It  was  time

to give them the Message.

"How many here have met the Jeedai face-to-face?"  he  asked.  "How  many

have heard the message from their own lips, in their own  tongue?"  He  waited

for someone to answer in the affirmative but, as always, no one  did.  In  all

the sermons he'd given, not one of the Shamed Ones who came to  him  had  ever

met or even seen a single example of the ones they venerated and looked to for

liberation.

"I have met the Jeedai," he said. "I have gazed upon the Twins  and  seen

their power; I have wondered at the  Jeedai-who-was-shaped;  I  witnessed  the

death of perhaps the greatest of them all, the one  called  Anakin  Solo,  who

gave his life so that the ones he loved might live; and I have spoken to their

elders and heard their message with my own ears. That I have  done  all  these

things and am here before you now attests to the truth of  what  I  have  told

you. If what I say is not the truth, then may the gods strike me down here and

now where I stand and erase this blasphemy from the heart of the galaxy!"  Nom

Anor could feel the congregation holding its collective  breath,  and  he  hid

another a smile as he dragged out the pause a little longer than was  strictly

necessary. He wanted the acolytes to realize that they were  still  afraid  of

the old gods, that old habits died hard.

He never grew tired of seeing the impact his words had  upon  the  Shamed

Ones.

It never failed to amuse him how  he  could  manipulate  their  emotions.

Strictly speaking, Nom Anor's claims weren't lies. He had met a lot of Jedi in

the course of his duty, just not in the capacity of an ally. Nor had  he  ever

stopped to listen to their philosophy. They'd usually been  on  the  receiving

end of one of his schemes to betray and destroy them, or he'd been  doing  his

level best to survive when those schemes went wrong.

When the silence was as taut as a stretched ligament, he  began  to  tell

them the story of Vua Rapuung, the Shamed One who had found redemption in  the

actions of the Jedi Knight called Anakin Solo. They had all heard  it  before,

of course; none of them would have made it this far had they not been able  to

give at least a rough outline of the story, thereby demonstrating that someone

thought them trustworthy. But this was the "official" version,  as  taught  by

the Prophet. It contained all the correct details in the right order, and  was

consistent with the known facts. It conveyed precisely the  right  message  at

exactly the right time.

So Nom Anor intended it, anyway. Again, lacking  true  belief,  he  could

only judge by the reactions of those who came to hear him speak. They listened

rapturously and left enlivened, empowered to spread the Message. All knew that

being associated in any way with the Prophet would mean torture and death; the

keepers of the old gods were jealous and did not tolerate challengers to their

beliefs.

How far knowledge of the existence of the cult had  spread  was  hard  to

say. Did Shimrra lose concentration during his  nightly  flagellations  as  he

pondered the spreading rot? Nom Anor could only hope so.

"... and there the Jeedai heresy  might  have  ended,  had  it  not  been

witnessed by the Shamed Ones watching from  the  edge  of  the  battle-by  the

shapers' damutek.

They spread the Message-and to this day the Message continues to  spread,

from mouth to ear among those like us. There is another way, a way that  leads

to acceptance, and a new word for hope: Jeedai." Nom Anor paused at the end of

the tale to sip from a drink bulb that Shoon-mi had ensured was at hand before

the acolytes had filed into the room. The ending of the tale was identical  to

the ending he had first heard from I'pan.  He  told  it  this  way  to  remind

himself both of the story's origins and of I'pan's fate. I'pan's death at  the

hands of a band of warriors that had come  searching  for  stolen  provisions-

thefts I'pan had conducted with Nom Anor in order to keep their small band  of

outlaws alive - had galvanized Nom Anor into action. Without that to  motivate

him, he might have still been living in anonymity, waiting for his luck to run

out instead of making his own.

"I shall answer your questions now," he said after a moment.

There were always questions.

"Did Yun-Yuuzhan create the Jeedafi" was the first, shouted by  a  female

near the front.

"Yun-Yuuzhan created all things," he answered, "the Jeedai included. They

are as much a part of his plan as we are. This will probably seem confusing to

some, but you must remember that we should never assume to know  Yun-Yuuzhan's

plan in its entirety. We are as ghazakl worms before him. Would  such  a  worm

understand even the most menial task you perform?" "Are they aspects  of  Yun-

Shuno, then?" a male cried out from the back.

"As with all beings, different ones appeal to different  gods.  The  twin

Jeedai, Jaina and Jacen Solo, are often associated with  the  twin  gods  Yun-

Txiin and Yun-Q'aah. Jaina is also associated with Yun-Harla,  the  Trickster.

All the Jeedai are disciplined warriors, so they fight with the favor of  Yun-

Yammka, the Slayer. They revere life as does Yun-Ne'Shel, the  Modeler.  Self-

sacrifice for the greater good is part of their teaching, as it is  with  Yun-

Yuuzhan. And yes, they have acted as intercessors for the Shamed Ones  in  the

fashion of Yun-Shuno.

"But in essence, they are beings like us. They are not  themselves  gods,

any more than Shimrra is. They are mortal; they can be  killed.  I  know  this

because I have seen them die with my own  eyes.  There  are  even  stories  of

Jeedai who wreak destruction instead of good, so we know that they have  flaws

like us. It is their teaching we must follow so we can be strong like them, so

we can be accepted as equals again." "Yu'shaa, what is the  Force?"  Nom  Anor

pretended to ponder this question before  he  answered.  In  reality,  he  had

already given it a great deal of thought. He had seen firsthand the effects of

the Force, but he had never understood it. Unlike those he  had  once  served,

however, he refused to dismiss that failure to  understand  as  a  failure  on

behalf of the Jedi. That was absurd. He simply could not hide  from  the  fact

that the Jedi Knights had access to something that the  Yuuzhan  Vong  clearly

did not.

It became worse the more he thought about it. If, as  the  Jedi  claimed,

the Yuuzhan Vong truly didn't possess the mystical life force or energy  field

that filled-or fueled - the galaxy they had invaded, did that mean, then, that

the Yuuzhan Vong and all their works-and  their  gods  -  were  as  empty  and

lifeless as the machines they despised?

There were two obvious solutions to this problem,  as  far  as  Nom  Anor

could see. One was to embrace the teachings of the Jedi in order to learn more

about what had gone wrong, and maybe save themselves from  a  pointless  "non-

life." The other was to find evidence, somehow, that the Yuuzhan Vong  weren't

entirely closed to this ubiquitous Force-that somewhere  inside  them  existed

the same spark of life that burned in the Jedi.

His answer to the question attempted to address both solutions in  a  way

that left neither resolved.

"The Force is an aspect of creation, the same as matter  and  energy.  It

may even be an aspect of the creation, the primordial sacrifice  that  brought

forth all things from Yun-Yuuzhan. We  are  taught  that  Yun-Yuuzhan  is  the

source of all life, the Overlord who, through great pain to  himself,  created

the lesser gods and thus, by connection, che Yuuzhan Vong. We assume that  his

sacrifice was of his body-as  his  followers  might  sacrifice  an  arm  or  a

thousand captives in his honor. But why should that be so?  Why  do  we  limit

Yun-Yuuzhan's generosity only to that which we can see and touch? Just as  the

wind is invisible to our eyes, there are many more things in the universe than

we can sense with our corporeal bodies, and all these things spring ultimately

from Yun-Yuuzhan. The Force is part of that, too.

"But what is it exactly?" Nom Anor shook his head. "I cannot address that

question, my friends, because I simply do not have the answer. On this matter,

I am as ignorant as all of you. The Force is a mystery-one that may  haunt  us

forever. All we can do is grope in the darkness for  that  thing  we  know  is

missing, in the hope that we might somehow stumble across it by  chance."  Nom

Anor leaned forward again, dropping his voice to a whisper so they were forced

to listen closely to his words. "So far in my groping, I have  discovered  two

things that I want you to consider. The first is that our way and the  way  of

the Jeedai are not necessarily at odds with each other. I'm not suggesting, as

some have proposed, that we replace our pantheon with that of the  Jeedai  and

the Force-but that we are both prophets of a new way." He  paused  again,  but

not long enough for anyone to voice another question.

"The other thing is no more than speculation, really, but I offer  it  to

you anyway, for  you  to  consider.  I  mentioned  before  that  Yun-Yuuzhan's

sacrifice might have been of more than just  his  body;  that  he  might  have

offered up things in order to bring the universe into  being-things  that  the

likes of you and I can neither see nor sense. We see aspects of him  reflected

in everything around us.

So is it not possible that the Force, in all its mystery and  wonder,  is

what remains of Yun-Yuuzhan's soul?" Nom Anor leaned  back  into  the  throne,

leaving them to ponder that thought for a moment. He honestly didn't  know  if

it meant anything or not, but the audience seemed to think it profound.

He let himself relax while they contemplated the notion. These  were  the

toughest questions, and he was glad to get them out of the way early, but they

were also the ones he had prepared for the most. From here on, if the acolytes

followed the usual patterns, the questions would be relatively trivial.

"Who are you, Yu'shaa?" asked a disfigured warrior from off to  one  side

of the gathering.

He dodged the answer with rhetoric, in much the same way  he  might  have

once deflected thud bugs with his am-phistaff. "I am one of you: anonymous  in

servitude, remarkable only for my willingness to speak out against  those  who

would have us defiled." "Where did you come from?" "Like you-like all of you-I

was born and raised on one of the  many  worldships  that  crossed  the  gulfs

between galaxies, following our ancestors' vision of a promised land." It  was

the truth, of course, just not the whole truth.  Nom  Anor  had  acted  as  an

advance scout, arriving many years before the main body of the migration.  His

mission had been to gather  information  about  the  governments  and  species

occupying the worlds  ahead.  He  had  prepared  the  way  for  later  agents,

exploring pressure points  and  sowing  seeds  of  dissent.  Those  seeds  had

flowered  into  rebellions  and  counter-rebellions,  destabilizing  the   New

Republic and widening the cracks that had  ultimately  led  to  its  downfall.

During the war, he had helped found the Peace Brigade that had so  jeopardized

the Jedi cause, and set many other schemes into motion. But there was  no  way

he was going to let them know that.

"Is the war wrong?" asked one from the front, his eyes  wide  and  hungry

for answers. That was a difficult question. Being pro-Jedi didn't  necessarily

mean that the galaxy wasn't intended to be the Yuuzhan  Vong's  new  home.  It

didn't mean that it was wrong to fight the Galactic Alliance, since it  wasn't

ruled by Jedi and  didn't  openly  advocate  Jedi  values.  It  was  perfectly

reasonable to be soundly pro-Jedi and yet at the same time fanatically opposed

to any suggestion that the war should be ended.

The trouble was, Nom Anor suspected that the Yuuzhan Vong were now losing

the war. He had no confidence in Shimrra's ability to restore  the  situation.

He understood the bankruptcy of the Supreme Overlord's regime-he knew  of  the

lies, the betrayals, the desperate search for an antidote in the form  of  the

eighth cortex. Without a radical change in direction or fortune, the  Galactic

Alliance was going to win.

For the worshipers of Yun-Yammka, the god of carnage, there was  no  such

thing as losing. There was only winning or dying.  A  failure  to  defeat  the

Galactic  Alliance  would  inevitably  mean  a  fight  to  the  end,  and  the

destruction of all that Nom Anor held dear. His only hope, therefore,  was  to

change the direction of the war from beneath, by muddying the waters  for  the

enemy. Would the Jedi be so keen to attack when they  had  supporters  in  the

Yuuzhan Vong ranks? He suspected not. They were warriors, but they  were  also

guilty of compassion.

"The war is an aberration," he said, offering the reply  he  always  used

when fielding this kind of question. "It is a lie. We should never  have  been

fighting the Jeedai in the first place, since they are the only ones who  will

speak up for those without voices-those like us. Nor  should  we  be  fighting

those who  call  the  Jeedai  allies,  either,  since  alone  the  Jeedai  are

insufficient to destroy the Supreme Overlord. We should be fighting  the  ones

who pit like against like, who use fear and betrayal to keep the powerless  in

their place, who would strike down Yun-Yuuzhan himself  in  order  to  satisfy

their greed! It is never wrong to fight for what is ours, but  you  must  make

certain that you do so for the right reasons. Be clear who your enemy  is.  It

is Shame. But together, like the grass, we can bring an end to this Shame once

and for all." The audience responded enthusiastically to his words,  and  this

time Nom Anor did smile. They were his now, would do anything for him. He  had

led them to the noose, and they had happily put their heads through  of  their

own accord. "What do we do now, Prophet?" Nom Anor sought out the  questioner,

and recognized him as the one with the severely  decayed  arm.  The  acolyte's

eyesacks were a deep, intense blue, almost visibly  pulsing  with  blood.  His

stare was the kind Nom Anor had seen many times before-before and since he had

formed the cult. For some, belief was so  much  more  than  just  a  guide  to

living: it became life itself. That was understandable, he thought, when  they

had so little else to live for.

"You ire among the first to receive the Message," he said, addressing the

whole room. "Your duty now is to spread it to others so that they,  too,  will

come to understand it. Some of these may  choose  to  come  here  and  receive

further instruction, themselves to become messengers. The Message will  spread

like a flood, washing our Shame away." A murmur of approval rolled around  the

gathering, punctuated by the nodding of many heads.

"There will, of course, be those who will hear the Message but do nothing

with it," Nom Anor went on. 'They will keep it in their  hearts-secreted  away

from others as though it were some rare  spore  they  have  found.  For  these

individuals I feel nothing but pity. The Message can only be of value if it is

heard-for that, and that alone, is its purpose.  Remaining  silent  after  you

hear the Message is akin to giving approval of the way you have been  treated,

of being complicit with the enemy..." He let  the  sentence  trail  off,  then

sighed. The time had come to end the  audience.  He  had  said  everything  he

needed to say.

"My friends, I fear for all of you. Although we have right on  our  side,

we are still fledglings who must confront hostility at  every  corner.  Should

word of our existence and identities ever reach the higher ranks,  then  every

one of us involved will be hunted down and killed. Therefore, I ask you all to

take every precaution as you spread the Message and recruit for our  cause.  A

whisper will spread, but a shout would most surely be silenced. With  patience

and perseverance, we will prevail. I ask you to go now  in  the  strength  and

knowledge that the spirit of freedom is with us!" Nom Anor  stood  and  opened

his arms, as though to embrace them all. At the signal, the doors at the  back

of the cellar opened, allowing the newly recruited acolytes to  file  out.  He

smiled beneficently as they left, radiating goodwill and trust.  It  was  very

different from how he had once dealt with underlings.

There was a time when he  would  have  sent  them  off  with  curses  and

threats, trusting in fear to keep them loyal. But this wouldn't  work  on  the

Shamed Ones; threatening them with punishment would only demonstrate  that  he

was no different from the rest of their masters. If he had learned  one  thing

from his disguise, it was that when fear was a  way  of  life  and  there  was

nothing left to lose, the only incentive remaining was reward.

When they were gone, he collapsed back into the throne. Go  now,  in  the

knowledge that you are the instruments of my authority, and the means by which

I shall attain the glory I deserve...

"A good audience, Yu'shaa?" He looked up. The Shamed warrior  Kunra,  who

acted as his bodyguard  and  occasional  conscience,  had  entered  the  room,

closely followed by Nom Anor's truest believer, Shoon-mi  Esh.  Shoon-mi  wore

the robes of a priest, though without the insignia of any of the Yuu-zhan Vong

deities. Kunra wore no armor, belying the cowardice that had caused  his  fall

from grace. Knowing their true  selves,  Nom  Anor  thought  them  a  pathetic

entourage for any would-be  revolutionary;  but  he  had  to  admit  that  the

converts responded well to them.

"Nothing special," he said in his usual rough voice. There was no need to

soliloquize with these two. "What we are gaining in quantity, we're losing  in

quality. A couple of them looked like they were about to die on  their  feet."

"I apologize, Master." Shoon-mi made fawning motions with his gnarled hands.

"I did not feel it my place to turn anyone with need  aside."  "Soon  you

will have to, Shoon-mi." Beneath his tiredness and irritation, Nom  Anor  felt

an abiding satisfaction at the way the movement was growing. Every day brought

more penitents to their door, seeking  the  truth  of  the  Message  spreading

around Yuuzhan'tar. "Perhaps it is time to start training the Select. You have

the list?" Shoon-mi nodded vigorously, eager to  please.  "I  have  identified

seventeen who qualify." "Loyal without being blind," Nom Anor said, going over

the prerequisites for those chosen. "Quick thinkers, but not too  intelligent,

yes?" "Yes, Master." "Then  call  them  to  me."  He  glanced  around  at  his

surroundings. "The sooner the better, for I grow  weary  of  the  stench  down

here." Shoon-mi inclined his head.  "They  will  stand  before  you  tomorrow,

Master," he said, making to leave.

Before he had gone five steps,  Nom  Anor  stopped  him.  "Shoon-mi,"  he

called. The Shamed One turned to face him. "I could not have done this without

you. I want you to know that." The highest of Nom Anor's acolytes beamed  with

pride as he scurried off to do his duty.  The  self-styled  Prophet  buried  a

flash of irritation. Although part of him wished he had killed the  fool  when

he'd had the chance, he had  to  acknowledge  Shoon-mi's  usefulness.  He  was

dedicated and resourceful, and Nom Anor felt he owed it to Shoon-mi's  sister,

Niiriit, one of the first true believers of the  Message,  not  to  kill  him.

Kunra would be sure to remind him if he tried, he was sure.

That wasn't the most irritating thing, though. Shoon-mi's willingness  to

work for nothing but praise stuck in Nom Anor's throat like a bone.

The ex-warrior stood in silence by the door, watching him. Nom  Anor  had

come to know Kunra well enough to realize when he had something on his mind.

"What is it?" "You'd better see for yourself." Kunra  turned  and  walked

through the hall's main entrance and into the antechamber. From there, he  led

Nom Anor along a short corridor to the small cell in which Kunra slept. There,

immobilized by blorash jelly, lay a female dressed  in  rags.  Her  cheek  was

heavily bruised, but her eyes were open and filled with defiance.

"She was carrying this," Kunra said, offering Nom Anor the remains  of  a

small, larva-like creature. Its leathery shell had been crushed and would have

been barely recognizable had not Nom Anor seen such things many times  before.

It was a villip.

The female had obviously intended to bring it into the  meeting  so  that

the person on the other end could watch the Prophet in action. That in  itself

was not necessarily sinister; some of the acolytes had attempted to spread the

Message via villips before-or so they had claimed. Nora  Anor  knew,  however,

that he couldn't afford to take the chance.

"Does Shoon-mi know?" he asked, keeping his stare fixed on the female.

"No. I make sure to check all acolytes before they reach  him.  This  one

came alone and was out of the way before he had a chance to suspect anything."

Nom Anor nodded his approval. It made things much simpler.

"I want the name of the  person  holding  her  master  villip,"  he  said

coldly.

"Find out how much  she  knows  about  us  while  you're  at  it-get  the

information any way you have to.  Then  kill  her."  Kunra  didn't  argue.  "I

understand." The female started to struggle, her protests muffled by  the  gag

in her mouth.

Nom Anor ignored her. "I shall  explain  to  Shoon-mi  that  we  have  to

relocate again." "He won't like it." He faced Kunra. "I'm sure he'd prefer  it

to dying." Without a further glance at the  prisoner,  he  turned  and  walked

away.

Part Two Destination

The freighter came out of nowhere from hyperspace far too close to Bakura

and going into an instant spin. Its drive units  stuttered  at  random,  which

wasn't helping the freighter's situation, while its subspace was  transmitting

nothing but static-which to Jag Pel sounded a lot like the  buzzing  of  angry

insects.

He had spent a lot of time and effort memorizing  the  manufacturers  and

model names  of  both  Republic  and  Imperial  vessels,  but  he  was  having

difficulty identifying this one. Its distinctive asymmetric  design  suggested

something from the Corellian  Engineering  Corporation  -  possibly  somewhere

between the YT 1300 and the  YT  2400-although  he  couldn't  be  100  percent

certain. Either way, it was in poor shape, and that wasn't likely  to  improve

in a hurry.

He would have happily ignored it had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that

whoever was flying it was coming dangerously close to where Pride  of  Selonia

was stationed. "Flights B and C, stand  by."  Jag  switched  to  a  commercial

channel.

"Unidentified freighter, you are infringing upon our space. Change course

immediately or we will be forced to take action." More  static  was  his  only

reply.

He swung his clawcraft away from Selonia in order to  meet  the  incoming

vessel.

His wingmate followed, S-foils opening smoothly on her X-wing.

"Bakura Orbital Control," he commed on local channels, "has anybody given

this freighter approval to occupy our orbit?" "Negative, Twin One,"  came  the

instant reply. "This flight is unauthorized.

But we've certainly seen her before." "You have a  registration  listed?"

"Oh yeah. She goes by the name of Jaunty Cavalier and is owned  by  a  Wookiee

called Rufarr. In fact, I'm surprised to see him return here. He left owing me

some credits." Not your usual Wookiee, then, Jag thought  as  he  watched  the

freighter tumble toward him. And not your usual approach, either.

"I think he's  got  more  to  worry  about  at  the  moment,"  Jag  sent.

"Requesting permission to nudge her out  of  harm's  way."  "As  long  as  you

promise not to be too gentle," Orbital Control quipped.

"Do what you have to, Twin One," added Captain Mayn from  Selonia.  "Just

make sure she gives us a wide berth." "Jaunty Cavalier," he tried,again.  "You

have ten seconds to comply with my instructions or you  will  be  intercepted.

Please respond." Still nothing but crackling over the comm.

"Okay, we're going in." He applied power to his  thrust-ers  and  brought

his clawcraft alongside the tumbling freighter. "Flight B, come closer and add

your shields to mine. We're going to try to give her a little  push."  Two  X-

wings and another clawcraft joined him and his wingmate.  With  half  of  Twin

Suns all working simultaneously, the freighter's heading  gradually  began  to

change, but it required a redirection of all available power to  both  engines

and shields from all ships. Jag kept a wary eye on the freighter, just in case

she tried anything.

Five degrees would do it, he decided. That would take the freighter  well

past Selonia and clear of Bakura's atmosphere-He caught a  flash  out  of  the

corner of his eye. At that exact moment a dozen  instruments  on  his  console

spiked, and he realized that a spray of neutrinos had just washed over him.

"Did anyone else catch that?" "Affirmative,  Twin  One,"  the  leader  of

Flight B replied. "Look at the drive units." Jag craned to look out  the  rear

of his cockpit's transparent canopy. The freighter's engines  were  stuttering

furiously now, thrust ebbing and fading in wildly erratic energy swings.

"I don't like the look of this," he mumbled under his breath.

The words had barely left  his  lips  when  the  drive  units  emitted  a

particularly bright flash, then died completely.

"Break  off!"  he  called  over  the  comm.  "All   fighters,   disengage

immediately!" He was already wrenching the controls of his  clawcraft  up  and

away from the stricken freighter. "Full power to aft shields!  Put  everything

you've got between us and that thing! She's going to-" There  was  a  blinding

white flash from behind him, then something picked up his clawcraft  and  spun

it like a top around all axes. He clutched at the sides of  his  flight  seat,

hearing nothing but the scream of tortured matter over the comm.

Then the rough ride was over, and the stars reappeared. Jag  damped  down

his spin and checked on the four other starfighters. He was relieved  to  find

them all present, if a little shaken by the experience. All that  remained  of

Jaunty Cavalier was a jagged chunk of wreckage,  possibly  a  section  of  the

forward structural chassis. The rest had been blown  to  atoms  by  the  drive

failure.

"Bakura Orbital Control," he said solemnly into his comm.  "I  think  you

can kiss your credits good-bye." "Don't write it off just yet, Twin One," came

the voice of Captain Mayn. "We registered a launch from Jaunty  Cavalier  just

before the detonation. It  looked  like  a  small  pod  of  some  kind."  This

surprised Jag. "An escape pod? Are you sure?  I  didn't  see  anything."  "I'm

positive," Mayn returned. "It was on the opposite side of the ship  from  you,

which was probably why you didn't see it." "Heading for Bakura, you mean?" Jag

was still slightly disoriented from the shock wave, but he knew  his  up  from

his down. Every spacer did in  a  gravity  well.  "Does  it  have  thrusters?"

"They're firing, but it's not enough. Reentry will be too steep.  Want  to  go

fetch it, or should we hand it over to Bakura OC?" "Negative on that," Orbital

Control said over the open line. "We wouldn't be able to get  there  in  time.

Sorry, Twin One, but it's going  to  have  to  be  you  or  no  one  at  all."

"Understood," Jag said, silently hoping there'd be no more surprises in  store

for him.

He sent his clawcraft swooping around the growing cloud of wreckage,  his

engines on maximum burn. The  pod  appeared  on  his  scope  a  second  later,

streaking downward. Its velocity was increasing, but it was  no  match  for  a

clawcraft at full throttle. He decelerated cautiously alongside as  it  loomed

large in his scopes. There were no obvious booby traps or triggers,  just  the

blinking of an  emergency  beacon,  bright  and  repetitive  on  the  subspace

channels.

Jag didn't know  exactly  what  sort  of  communications  capacities  the

Corellian Engineering Corporation provided its escape capsules, but he  didn't

imagine they'd be much. Before locking on to the pod, he scanned the sub-space

channels looking for any transmissions from the  kind  of  local  comlink  the

occupant-if there was one - would probably be using. He picked up various low-

power transmissions, including just about  every  navigational  beacon  for  a

light-month, before finally lucking onto a faint voice calling stridently: - n

emergency! Someone answer me, please! I'm in need of  assistance.  Can  anyone

hear this? I'm-" "This is Colonel Jag Fel calling the occupant  of'life  pod-"

He checked the ident number visible on the stubby cylinder as it rotated  into

view. "-one-one-two-V. Can you hear this?" "Yes!" The reply was immediate  and

drenched with relief. "Yes, I can! Thank the  Balance  you  found  me!  I  was

beginning to think my escape had all been for  nothing!"  Jag  fine-tuned  his

trim preparatory to coming in closer. The voice clearly did not belong to  the

Wookiee captain of the destroyed freighter. "Want to  tell  me  what  happened

back there?" "The drive failed in midjump and I didn't know what to do to  fix

it. The navicomputer died in the energy surge following the engine failure.  I

was lucky that bucket of bolts made it as far as  she  did."  "Are  there  any

other survivors there with you?" "Just me. The crew is dead-and good  riddance

to them, as far as I'm concerned. Murderous fiends, every one  of  them!"  Jag

hesitated. "You killed them?" "Only in self-defense." The voice took on a more

commanding tone. "Look, are you here to rescue  me  or  ask  questions?"  "I'm

trying to ascertain whom I'm rescuing, that's all." And what kind  of  monster

you are, he added to himself.

"You want to know who I am? I'm Prime Minister Cundertol, that's  who-and

I'm ordering you to pull me up this instant! After all I've been through,  I'm

not going to let some rookie pilot fumble my rescue. You  put  me  through  to

Orbital Control this instant or so help me I'll have your license faster  than

you can-" "I apologize, Prime Minister," Jag cut in, biting down on the  reply

he would have preferred  to  give.  "Bringing  you  up  now."  He  pulled  his

clawcraft in closer to the pod. Magnetic clamps  engaged,  and  he  fired  his

thrusters only slightly more roughly than was necessary to  bring  the  escape

pod out of its headlong descent into the atmosphere.  The  roar  of  thrusters

prevented further communication between Jag and his  unlikely  pillion  rider,

let alone Orbital Control. The Prime Minister was forced to ride out the  long

burn in silence, in whatever passed for acceleration  straps  among  Corellian

engineers. Although he probably had every reason to be impatient, if  his  use

of words like escape and murderers  was  any  indication  of  what  he'd  been

through, Jag wasn't going to let him off easily.

Rookie, indeed...

"... seven of them, four humans, two Rodians, and that  wretched  Wookiee

captain of theirs. I resisted, of course, but they took me by  surprise.  Once

they'd smuggled me out of the Bakuran Senate Complex, it was just a matter  of

getting me to the spaceport. No one stopped to question  a  group  of  traders

carrying a crate of records-and not one person thought to scan  the  crate  to

make sure it contained what they said it did." The Prime  Minister  shook  his

head gravely. "Someone's head will  roll  for  this,  mark  my  words."  Prime

Minister Cundertol was a big, solid man witt thinning blond hair  and  a  pink

hue to his skin. He held his age well, overpowering any hint of  frailty  with

bluster and exaggerated gestures. Safely recovered from the escape pod, he was

sitting on a bench outside Pride of Selonia's medical  bay.  Jag  and  Captain

Mayn sat with him. Mayn, as  tall  as  Cundertol  but  half  the  weight,  sat

opposite him, her narrow features frozen in concentration. Only Jag,  standing

to one side, could see the tic pulsing in the skin beneath her shaved scalp.

"Go on, Prime Minister," he encouraged. "What happened next?" "They  took

me aboard their ship and knocked me out, that's what happened  next!"  Despite

his outrage, it was obvious that Cundertol was  enjoying  relating  the  tale.

"When I woke up, we were in hyperspace. I had no idea where they  were  taking

me. They'd stuck me away in an aft hold. Every now and then I would hear  them

talking, and it quickly became apparent that I wasn't in  fact  a  hostage  at

all-as I had first suspected. From the little I  could  gle.  -  in  from  the

snatches of their conversations, I was to be taken somewhere and interrogated-

then I was to be  disposed  of.  Luckily,  though,  they  hadn't  fastened  my

bindings properly, so with a bit of effort I managed to work my  hands  free."

"Did your captors say whom they were working for?" Mayn asked.

"Not in so many words. Whenever they referred to him, it was only ever as

'the boss.' Or 'her,' of course," he added darkly.

"Well," Mayn said, "you should be pleased to know that your  people  made

an arrest in your absence. Yesterday, Malinza Thanas was  taken  into  custody

and has been charged with conspiracy and disturbing the peace. It  looks  like

your law enforcers could add attempted murder to those charges once we get you

home and you can tell them your story." "Malinza?" For a moment, Cundertol was

nonplussed. "Charged? No, I don't believe it." "It's true," Jag said.  "Deputy

Harris announced it himself." The Prime Minister retreated into his  thoughts,

clearly stunned by the news.

"So you freed yourself," Jag prompted after a moment. "What then?" "Huh?"

Cundertol snapped out of his musings with a questioning look in his eyes. Then

he said, "Oh, my escape. Well, eventually one of them came back  to  check  on

me. I overpowered him and took his blaster. I  left  him  trussed  up  in  the

binders they'd failed to secure on me, then I crept forward  to  confront  the

others. There were three in the main cabin. They were surprised to see  me  up

and about, as you can imagine. I confined them  to  a  corner  as  two  others

arrived from the cockpit, leaving just the pilot in control of the vessel.  It

was five against one-not good odds, even for  someone  who  trained  with  the

Special Bakuran Troops." Cundertol's chest puffed up  in  pride  at  this.  "I

demanded to be returned, but was told that nothing could  be  done  until  the

freighter had come out of its jump. I argued that they could cancel  the  jump

and turn back immediately, but they continued to prevaricate  with  ridiculous

excuses. It was obvious they were playing for time, though there was little  I

could do about it short of shooting one  of  them  to  let  them  know  I  was

serious. But then that would have made me just as  bad  as  them,  right?"  He

faced both Jag and Captain Mayn in turn, looking for approval. They nodded  in

response, but neither said anything.

"Anyway," Cundertol continued, "we argued for a  few  minutes  until  the

Wookiee tried to jump me, and I was forced to fire upon them. I had no choice!

If I let them take me, then I was as good as dead. It was either  kill  or  be

killed. So I killed them." The Prime Minister looked down at his big hands  as

if disbelieving what they'd done. "You did what you had to do, sir," Jag  said

after a moment. "No one can  blame  you  for  that."  Jag's  reassuring  words

received a vague nod in reply, but it wasn't convincing. "I didn't kill all of

them, of course," Cundertol said. "Just the five who attacked me. The one  I'd

trussed up, he was still in the hold, and the pilot had stayed in the  cockpit

until the fighting was over. I tied him up, too, when he refused to  do  as  I

told him. From there it was just a matter  of  turning  the  ship  around  and

coming home. All would have gone well had the wreck  not  developed  a  raging

case of system rot and fallen apart on me. When it came time to ditch it,  the

life support had failed in the  aft  holds,  killing  the  two  I'd  tied  up-

otherwise I would've brought them with  me  to  stand  trir.l.  They  got  off

lightly, in the end. Death was too good  for  them-far  too  good."  Cundertol

ground his teeth as if in frustration. He was clearly bitter,  and  rightfully

so as far as Jag was concerned.

From the entrance to the bay,  Selonia's  chief  meditech  was  listening

closely to the tale. When it became  apparent  that  the  Prime  Minister  had

finished, she stepped forward and said, "Are you sure you're not hurt, sir? We

really should examine you to  see-"  "I'm  fine,"  he  interrupted,  irritably

waving her off. "It takes more than a scuffle to put me  down."  The  meditech

backed away with a bony shrug.

"Have you found any evidence in the wreckage?" Cundertol asked Mayn.

"None, I'm afraid. There was very little left of the  craft."  "That's  a

shame," he muttered. "Because I want whoever was behind this to pay dearly. If

the Keeramak has been deterred by my kidnapping-or, worse, the consecration is

canceled entirely-then I don't know where that will leave us. We can't  afford

tension with the P'w'eck. Not with the Yuuzhan Vong approaching  us  from  the

other side. Our defense fleet is stretched as it  is  without  adding  to  our

enemies." "Do you know where your kidnappers  were  taking  you?"  Jag  asked.

"Because if we knew that then we might-" "I'm sorry,  young  man,"  the  Prime

Minister said brusquely, "but you must appreciate that I  had  more  important

things to worry about at the time-such as staying alive.  I  didn't  have  the

luxury of sitting them down and interrogating them, as you seem to be doing to

me right now!" Jag felt himself flush at the accusation. "Sir, I  never  meant

in any way to-" Cundertol cut off the  apology  with  a  grunt.  "When's  that

shuttle coming?" he demanded, glancing athis chronometer.

"Soon, Prime Minister," Mayn said pleasantly. "General  Panib  is  giving

you a full military escort to avoid any further attempts on your life. In  the

meantime, you're safest here, with us." "Better  safe  than  sorry,  eh?"  The

Prime Minister sniffed as he looked around at the  cramped  corridors  of  the

frigate. "I'm just glad to be alive." Something about the way Cundertol  spoke

those words told Jag that, perhaps for the first time since he'd been rescued,

he was telling the whole truth.

The Millennium Falcon, with Jaina flying as escort, had left orbit barely

an hour before the appearance of Jaunty Cavalier,  heading  planetside  for  a

formal meeting with the  Senate.  The  news  of  Cundertol's  rescue  and  the

destruction of the freighter  came  as  they  landed  safely  at  Salis  D'aar

spaceport. Tahiri watched over Han's and Leia's shoulders as Jaina climbed out

of her starfighter to inspect security before anyone  else  disembarked.  Leia

frowned. "You're saying he single-handedly overpowered a crew of seven?

That's certainly not the Senator Cundertol I remember."  "I'm  skeptical,

too," Jag said from orbit. "But I suppose it's not completely impossible. He's

fit, and he had the element of surprise. One thing that really bothers  me  is

that he did it without taking any cuts or bruises." "You're sure about  that?"

Leia asked.

"I'm telling you, I stood right beside him as  he  told  his  story,  and

there wasn't a scratch on the  man.  Ever  known  anyone  to  come  out  of  a

fistfight without so much as a fat lip or  a  grazed  knuckle?"  "He's  got  a

point," Han said. His posture indicated that he was devoting at least as  much

attention to Jaina's gesticulating at local security forces outside as he  was

to Jag. "But have you got anything else? Anything substantial?"  "Nothing.  He

refused a medical exam." "Todra's chief medico is a Duros, though, right?  And

if I recall,  Cundertol  is  pro-human  through  and  through,  right,  Leia?"

"Definitely more than just a hint of Empire, Jag," Leia confirmed.  "He  could

have simply wanted to avoid contact with an alien." "Yet he signs an  alliance

with the P'w'eck?" "He'd sign an alliance with an arachnor if  he  thought  it

politically expedient," Leia said.

Jag was silent for a second, then added, "This might  not  mean  anything

either, then, but Cundertol was as surprised about Malinza Thanas's arrest  as

you were." "That it was her, or that they'd caught her?" "I can't be positive,

but I think the former." "Well,  Harris  certainly  seemed  convinced  of  her

guilt." "It's possible my paranoia and suspicions are just getting the  better

of me," Jag conceded. "But one thing I am sure of: Cundertol  certainly  isn't

someone I'd want to spend any more time with than I have to. I was quite happy

to leave him with Captain Mayn until the Bakuran escort arrived. They've  just

left, so I'm happy to report he'll be all yours real soon." Outside the  ship,

Jaina made a great show of exasperation, then turned and headed to the Falcon,

signing a surreptitious all clear as she came. Keeping  the  locals  on  their

toes, Tahiri imagined.

"Okay, then," Han said as he brought the ship's systems one by  one  off-

line. "Apart from the fact that you're suspicious of the  Prime  Minister,  do

you have anything more substantial to add?" "I guess not."  "And  everything's

under control up there now?" "The wreckage has  been  cleared  and  our  orbit

corridor is clear." "Good. Call us if anything else comes up. I think  there's

a meet-and-greet finally calling our name." Han killed the comlink and  turned

to face his wife, who was shaking her head." "What?" he asked, brow  furrowed.

"I just find it amusing that someone who has navigated through his entire life

on hunches could be so critical of someone else's." Han  pulled  an  indignant

face. "Hey, I listened to what he had to say. It's just that I didn't think he

gave us anything solid to go on, that's  all."  "Is  that  the  only  reason?"

Tahiri couldn't see Leia's expression, but she imagined  the  Princess  to  be

smiling. "Or could it be that you're feeling a little put out at the  idea  of

Jaina having a boyfriend whose instincts are as sharp as yours?" Han performed

a double take that would have been  amusing  to  watch  had  not  Tahiri  been

acutely aware that she was listening in on a personal conversation.

"I'm going to leave the two of you to talk," Tahiri said,  climbing  from

her seat. As she stepped from the cockpit, she heard the two start  up  again.

As usual, there was no real malice in their argument. Beneath the words Tahiri

could always detect the affection that the two obviously held for each other.

Outside the Falcon, the air was heavy with moisture and  pollen.  It  was

about midmorning, local time, an4 the temperature was rising. Within a minute,

Tahiri could feel herself beginning to  sweat,  so  she  called  on  her  Jedi

training to regulate her temperature. The last thing she wanted to present  to

any officials she met was a sweaty palm-either metaphorically or literally.  A

few minutes later, Han and Leia also emerged from the Falcon  Judging  by  the

way the Princess was walking ahead of her husband and shaking her head, Tahiri

guessed th.jir friendly squabble was still taking place.

"At least he's got good taste," she heard Han say to Leia as they reached

the base of the freighter's landing ramp. Any response Leia might have had  to

this went unheard, however, because at that moment Jaina stepped over to greet

her mother and father.

They exchanged a few words together, but the combination of the  distance

and their hushed voices made it impossible for Tahiri to hear what  was  being

said-although she presumed it to be about the current situation as  Jaina  saw

it.

Whatever, it was clearly something they didn't  feel  concerned  her,  so

Tahiri decided not to intrude upon the discussion.

Instead, she checked out the docking bay they'd been assigned. Apart from

the Falcon and Jaina's X-wing, it was completely  empty-as  requested  by  the

Princess-and  had  only  the  one  exit  in  the  far  corner.   Through   the

transparisteel door of this exit, Tahiri could make out a small collection  of

dignitaries and guards. For  some  reason,  the  sight  of  their  drab  green

uniforms all in a row made her feel uncomfortable, and one of the three  scars

on her temple began to itch. When she caught herself  scratching  at  it,  she

quickly stopped, self-consciously lowering her hand and placing it behind  her

back. She still didn't know why this happened, but it  bothered  her  that  it

did. It brought back memories; brought back dreams...

She  turned  away  from  the  sight  of  the   dignitaries   beyond   the

transparisteel doors,  and  as  she  did  so  caught  sight  of  a  technician

approaching the Millennium Falcon, a long black cable clutched in one hand. He

was moving furtively, coming up behind where Jaina and her parents  stood.  At

least Tahiri assumed it was a "he."  The  oversuit  that  the  tech  wore  was

designed to protect its wearer from hostile environments, and as such was  too

heavy and bulky to reveal the being's gender or even species.

She knew that Han hadn't authorized any maintenance  on  his  ship  while

they were docked, though, so she stepped forward to intercept the tech  before

he could get any closer. "Hey!" she called. "You're not supposed to be  here!"

The suited figure hesitated, - then changed direction to head  toward  Tahiri.

She  stopped  in  her  tracks,  the  grip  on  her  lightsaber   instinctively

tightening.

"Hold it right there," she warned.

"I bring a message," the figure said. The voice issuing from  inside  his

helmet was distorted like a stormtrooper's.

Tahiri's brow creased with suspicion. "What kind of message? And who's it

for?""Han Solo," the technician said. "I need  to  tell  him  to  be  careful.

Things here are not as  they  seem."  "Things  rarely  are  these  days,"  she

returned. Her grip on the lightsaber eased slightly. The precise form  of  the

person inside the suit was hidden, but her instincts were clear.

"You're a Ryn, aren't you?" The figure seemed slightly taken aback.  "How

did you-?" "I met one of you on Galantos," she explained. More confident  now,

she took another two steps forward. "He was the  one  who  suggested  we  come

here, actually. He told us that-" She stopped in midsentence when  the  helmet

shook. "Now is not the time," the Ryn said, glancing around. "I shall  contact

you again later. For now, though, please pass on my message to Captain  Solo."

Tahiri nodded. "Okay, but you're not really telling  him  anything  new.  He's

always careful, and I think he's already guessed  that  something  strange  is

going on here." The Ryn didn't seem to be  listening.  He  glanced  around  as

though fearful he might be seen talking to her out in the open.

"I must go," he said. "You've been allocated quarters should you wish  to

stay longer than today. I urge you to take them. You'll  find  what  you  need

there." Without another word, the Ryn turned and made his  way  back  the  way

he'd come. Tahiri  stood  watching  him.  She  was  finding  herself  becoming

increasingly intrigued by the Ryn and their guarded hints.

"Trouble, Tahiri?" She jumped at Han's voice so close  to  her  shoulder.

She shook her head, conscious of the security  guards  watching  them  closely

from the edge of the landing field.

Han glowered at the Ryn's retreating back. "There'd better  not  be,"  he

said.

"What did he say, anyway?"  Tahiri  lowered  her  voice.  "That  was  our

contact. The Ryn. He said to tell you that things here aren't what they seem."

Han rolled his eyes. "When are they ever?" Tahiri  smiled  nervously.  "That's

just what I said." "Anything else?" She repeated what the  Ryn  had  told  her

about accepting an offer of accommodation.

Han nodded, casting one final glance at the Ryn as if tempted  to  follow

him.

"Okay." He put an arm about her shoulder and guided her back to where the

others stood waiting. "It's nothing," he called to them. "Let's  get  on  with

it." Jaina gave Tahiri a penetrating once-over as she joined  the  group,  but

nothing further was said. Together they walked to where  the  security  guards

awaited them. As the uniformed guards surrounded them to escort  them  through

the doors, Tahiri found herself filled with misgivings. It  felt  like  they'd

done all this before...

The harsh white of reflected sunlight belied the cold  heart  of  Csilla.

The briefest orbital scan of the icebound world revealed  dozens  of  glaciers

around the equator, as well as solid ice shelves that covered vast expanses of

the planet. It made other frozen worlds like Hoth look positively temperate.

And yet, incredibly, it was inhabited. Huge  cities  skated  the  glacial

fields like Mon Calamari water skimmers, riding the near-geologic flow of  the

ice; others buried themselves deep under the cold, tunneling into  bedrock  in

search of geothermal warmth far below.

"Chilly," Jacen said, staring in muted awe out at the swarms of clawcraft

that silently flanked Jade Shadow as she arrived in orbit. Images of the Chiss

home planet had previously been nonexistent. Luke and Mara's  last  expedition

to Chiss space, years earlier, had taken them nowhere near the  heart  of  the

alien empire.

"You talking about the planet or this reception?" Danni asked.

Jacen smiled at the quip. "You'd think with the pick of any of the worlds

in the Unknown Regions that they'd have chosen one a bit more  agreeable  than

this one. I mean, why stay here when there are so many warmer climates nearby?

" "Sheer obstinacy," Mara answered from her position in Jade Shadow's  pilot's

seat. "You've seen how Jag and his pilots operate. Well, multiply that by  ten

and you might come up with something that approximates your average Chiss.

Remember,  Vanguard  Squadron  represents  the  imaginative,  risk-taking

extreme. The everyday stubbornness you'll find on Csilla would even  make  the

Hutts look accommodating." A brisk voice advised the incoming delegation  from

the Galactic Alliance of their allotted orbit. "You will not deviate from this

vector," they were warned, "unless instructed to do so." "We understand," Mara

replied, unable to hold the irritation from her voice.

"But is there someone who can-"Commander Irolia is the  intermediary  you

have been allocated. She will attend you on this  frequency  and  address  any

queries or concerns you may have at this time." With that, the line went dead.

"Looks like our friend Commander Irolia beat us here," Mara said.

"Well, at least it'll be a familiar voice," Jacen said.

"Ask for her," Luke said from the navigator's chair. "Tell  her  we  want

permission to send a landing party."  "Are  you  sure  that's  a  good  idea?"

"Which: landing or asking?" Luke smiled fleetingly. Then, soberly, he added, "

Listen, Mara, if it's not safe to deal with the Chiss now, with  Imperials  on

our side, I fear it never will be." Mara acquiesced without  further  comment,

and Jacen leaned back in his seat to listen to the conversation. It was brief,

as expected. Irolia replied to Mara's request with a briskness suggesting that

she had anticipated it days ago. She gave them a window and uploaded a reentry

corridor to R2-D2's navigation banks.

The stubby droid whistled to indicate that he'd received it, and that was

that.

"Do you require  the  shuttle?"  Captain  Yage  asked  over  the  command

frequency. "I think we'll take Shadow down this time,"  Luke  said.  "Instruct

Hegerty to gear up and-" "Actually, Soron Hegerty won't be going along on this

trip," Yage cut in. "The incident on Munlali Mafir proved a  little  too  much

for the doctor. She's opted to stay aboard and sit this one out, if that's all

right." Jacen could see his uncle's  disappointment.  Since  leaving  on  this

mission, the doctor and Lieutenant Stalgis had assisted Luke and his party  on

a number of occasions. His uncle  was  thankful  for  this,  as  it  reflected

cooperation between the Empire and the Galactic Federation of Free  Alliances-

and the more this could be seen happening, the easier it would be to sway  the

cynics in the Alliance.

Her decision to sit this mission out would no doubt  start  rumors  among

those cynics.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Can you  organize  us  a  ground  party?  That

window's in an hour, so we'll need to move  quickly."  "Testing  our  mettle,"

Yage said, almost audibly grinding her teeth. "We're more  than  a  match  for

that trumped-up power princess." Luke smiled at his wife as  Yage  closed  the

line. "I think Irolia might have won  herself  an  enemy."  "Not  hard,"  Mara

agreed. "After all, the  commander  isn't  particularly  trying  to  make  any

friends." A thought struck Jacen then. "Do you think she's  been  sent  to  us

deliberately?" Luke turned in his seat. "To see how we'll react?"  He  thought

for a moment.

"Could be that someone much higher up than Irolia is testing us."  "Don't

worry," Mara said. "Arien is right. We're more  than  ready  for  the  Chiss."

"I've no doubt about that," Luke said. He faced the front again.  "  But  it's

not Chiss I'm worried about." Jade Shadow came in low over the western arm  of

what would have been a crescent-shaped continent on a more  temperate  planet.

Deep-surface radar revealed scoured rock  two  kilometers  down,  buckled  and

split by the weight of the ice above. Melt channels  and  refreezing  fissures

had created a fiendishly complicated network of caves and  tunnels  throughout

the ice, and it was in these tunnels that the Chiss  had  built  the  city  of

Ac'siel.

Above the ice shelf, all that was visible  was  an  equilateral  triangle

consisting of three craterous spaceports linked bv lines of towers that  could

have been massive observation antenna and weapons installations.

Or perhaps, Jacen thought, just there to intimidate.

The wind howled like a lovelorn wampa, tearing at the hull of Jade Shadow

as Mara brought her down to the spaceport they'd  been  allocated.  Her  hands

moved deftly over the controls, guiding the ship with natural ease.

Back in the passenger bay, Jacen waited with  the  rest  of  the  landing

party. Outside, heat differentials whipped the storms into a fury, creating an

illusion of dynamic processes that might eventually lead to life, but the  ice

always won out in the end. Where water froze, only the meanest organisms could

evolve, and only the toughest survive. The Chiss clearly fit into  the  latter

category, clinging to their world tooth and claw, no matter how much it  tried

to freeze them out.

Danni followed Jacen to the air lock when they had touched down.

"Ready when you are," she said as the air lock hissed open.

Together, they stepped outside.

He had expected to find himself in  the  middle  of  an  icy  storm,  but

instead the air was warm and still. They had landed inside a large docking bay

that was sealed against the elements by a flickering force field  high  above.

The ferrocrete platform beneath his feet was clean and dry, and sloped down to

where a small welcoming party waited  for  them.  Seven  officers  dressed  in

purple-and-black uniforms stood to attention, their blue  skins  looking  like

marble under the arc lights. Jacen couldn't tell if Commander Irolia  was  one

of them, but he offered a small wave of acknowledgment anyway.  There  was  no

response.

"Nothing untoward," he sent to Mara and Luke via comlink.

Moments later they joined him and Danni outside Jade  Shadow.  Luke  came

first, followed by Lieutenant Stalgis and Mara. A  second  stormtrooper  would

stay with Jade Shadow, along with Tekli and Saba. The air lock  sealed  behind

them.

There was a brief pause during which nothing happened. They simply  stood

awkwardly by the air lock, waiting.

"You know, I expected the Chiss to be more punctual," Luke said.

Jacen caught the wink that his uncle sent Mara. "Perhaps we  caught  them

with their pants down," he put in.

At that moment the formation  of  guards  dissolved.  Two  people  walked

through the entrance behind them and up the ramp  to  where  Jade  Shadow  had

settled. One of them was Commander Irolia, her expression  as  steely  as  her

hair was black.

The other was a human-a solid,  muscular  man  of  about  Luke's  height.

Completely bald, he had a thin mouth, deep-set eyes, and a nose  large  enough

to rival a Toydarian's. When he spoke, he made no pretense of welcome.

"I am Chief Navigator Peita Aabe," he said, his voice  as  sharp  as  the

creases in his uniform. He came to a halt before them, his cold gaze  touching

each of them in turn. "We have made arrangements for  you  to  meet  with  the

necessary authorities." "Wouldn't you like to know who we are?" Luke asked.

Aabe's attention settled on the  Jedi  Master  with  an  expression  that

suggested he was making the best of a bad situation.  "That  isn't  necessary.

Commander Irolia has ensured that we have the  relevant  information.  If  you

will come this way." Aabe turned to lead them across the docking bay.

"Wait a second," Mara said. "I'd like to  know  more  about  you,  first.

You're human." He didn't attempt to hide his annoyance  as  he  swung  around.

"And that troubles you?" "No, of course not. It's just that apart from Admiral

Parck and Soontir Fel, I wasn't aware that any others had joined  the  Chiss."

"Many would have, but few were accepted." Aabe's frosty facade  melted  for  a

moment, allowing a glimpse of burning pride beneath. "I serve Assistant Syndic

Fel in his absence. My origins are not important."  He  turned  and  continued

down the ramp. Irolia waited to ensure that they followed, then did the same.

Assistant Syndic Fel? Jacen thought as they followed the  Chiss  officer.

The Baron must have been promoted. Whether that was a good thing,  though,  he

couldn't decide.

"A cheery lot, aren't they?" Danni mumbled as they walked.

"Be that as it may," Jacen replied, "I'd sooner deal with them  than  the

Krizlaws, any day." As they passed through the exit from the docking area, the

seven guards standing there fell in line behind them.

"Where are we going?" Mara asked.

"I have already told you," Aabe said gruffly.

"You told us that we were going to meet the 'necessary authorities,'  but

you haven't told us who they are or where we're being taken to meet with them.

" Aabe strode a  few  more  paces  before  speaking  again.  "Is  that  really

important at this time?" Mara rolled her eyes at Luke,  clearly  annoyed  with

the evasive responses. "You tell me: is it?" Surprisingly, it was  Irolia  who

answered Mara's initial question.

"You are being taken to meet representatives of  the  Four  Families  and

Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet." Mara half turned to face the woman as  they

walked.

"There we will discuss the role the Chiss will  play  in  your  mission."

"You work for the Nuruodo family," Mara said.  "That's  military  and  foreign

affairs, right?" Irolia didn't answer. She didn't need to.  The  Chiss  didn't

give anything away, but the broad structure of  their  government  was  common

knowledge. Jacen knew that four families dominated  public  affairs:  Nuruodo,

Csapla, Inrokini, and  Sabosen.  The  Csapla  oversaw  resource  distribution,

agriculture, and other colonial affairs; industry, science, and communications

were the concern of the Inrokini; the Sabosen ensured  that  justice,  health,

and education services were maintained equitably across the colonies.

"Which of the families do  you  work  for,  Chief  Navigator  Aabe?"Jacen

asked.

"I work for none of them," their stiff-backed guide said without so  much

as a glance in Jacen's direction. "I am employed by  the  CEDE  The  fleet  is

always in need of those with experience outside  the  inhabited  territories."

"Incursions from  the  Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium  and  the  Yuu-zhan  Vong,"  Irolia

explained, "plus our experience with Grand  Admiral  Thrawn,  taught  us  that

insularity could be a weakness as well as a strength. It's not  enough  to  be

strong; a truly successful culture needs to be flexible as well. And in  order

to be flexible, we must look beyond what we consider familiar; we must come to

know our neighbors as well as we know ourselves." "Most governments would open

diplomatic ties," Mara said. "Either that or just send in spies."  "Those  are

methods we have certainly tried, and indeed to an extent still  employ.  After

all, we are talking to you now, are we  not?"  Her  smile  flickered  briefly.

"However, sometimes we find that integration is the optimal way to achieve our

goals. Your former Emperor accepted  Thrawn  as  an  ally  because  he  was  a

brilliant strategist, despite his nonhuman origins; so, too, are  we  prepared

to accept non-Chiss into our fold." "Would you accept a Ssi-ruu into the fold?

Or perhaps a Yuuzhan Vong?" Irolia didn't miss a step. She regarded Luke,  who

had offered the challenge, with not the slightest change in expression.

"If they were exceptionally talented and trustworthy,"  she  said,  "then

yes, of course." Jacen was unsettled by the response, and he sensed the others

were, too. It wasn't hard to understand. The pain of loss was still  fresh  in

the hearts and minds of everyone around him. Lieutenant Stalgis had lost  many

troopers and friends  on  Bastion;  Danni  had  seen  her  colleagues  die  on

Belkadan, right at the start of the war, and had probably seen more death  and

mayhem as a result of the Yuuzhan Vong than anyone Jacen knew; Mara had almost

lost her infant son Ben  on  Coruscant;  and  Jacen  himself  still  felt  the

terrible absence of his brother Anakin in his heart.

His uncle's feelings were kept carefully hidden, and Jacen wondered  what

he was thinking. Intellectually he knew that at some point loss had to be  put

aside to make room for hope. Clinging to the past only made  the  future  that

much harder to achieve; and it was only in the future, ultimately, that  peace

lay.

With Irolia's comment having effectively killed any  further  discussion,

the  party  continued  along  in  gloomy  silence.  In  the  absence  of   any

conversation, Jacen studied their surroundings, his curiosity  piqued  by  the

strange translucent substance that made up the walls. It appeared to  be  ice,

but when he reached out to touch it he found it warm and dry. Visible  in  the

substance every meter or so was a frame of silver metal that seemed to  define

the boxlike corridors, each possessing a green light that flickered on as they

approached and then switched off after they had passed.  At  first  glance  he

could see no discernible reason for the frames' existence, although he had  no

doubt that they performed some function. The Chiss didn't seem  the  types  to

enjoy decoration for its own sake.

Danni noticed his interest. "Field generators," she whispered.

He frowned, momentarily puzzled. Field generators? Why should  they  need

field generators to hold their corridors  together?  Surely  the  power  drain

would outweigh any possible security benefit.

Then it hit him: the walls really were made of ice. The field  generators

provided a boundary between the bubble of warm air in which  they  walked  and

the slippery surface beneath their feet. They also kept the cold at  bay,  and

stopped the ice from melting. The generators switched on  as  they  approached

then switched off as they passed, meaning that the power drain  on  each  unit

was minimized. Overall, the cost would be much less than sealing  and  heating

every  single  cubic  meter  of  the  tunnels-especially  when  the  cost   of

manufacturing and laying insulated materials around the tunnels  was  factored

in.

It was an elegant solution to a tricky problem-particularly in areas that

weren't frequently traveled. Jacen was impressed.

Eventually they came to an area that was insulated and sealed  with  more

conventional materials. His ears popped as they passed the last of  the  field

generators and the heated bubble dissolved around  him.  A  smell  of  flowers

struck him, and he found himself in a wide, tiered space that was  thick  with

vegetation. The ceiling hung at least twenty meters above, with a bright  tube

that ran its length, lighting  the  area.  The  atmosphere  was  peaceful  and

serene, and Jacen's first impression was that  it  was  a  residential  space-

perhaps an underground park for the public. However,  he  soon  dismissed  the

idea when he realized that, apart from  themselves,  there  was  no  one  else

present. For that matter, he hadn't seen anyone other than their escort  since

they'd arrived at Ac'siel. All the  corridors  they'd  walked  down  had  been

empty.

Whatever the reason for this was, he didn't have time to ponder it. Chief

Navigator Aabe had led them to one of three doors  on  the  far  side  of  the

gardenlike area and was now impatiently trying to hurry  them  through.  Jacen

and the others complied, filing into a  relatively  small  and  circular  room

containing a dozen black chairs set around  an  equally  circular  table.  The

walls, floor, and ceiling were black also, while  tiny  globes  floating  high

above stabbed beams of light through the room's shadows to give prominence  to

the chairs around the table below. On the far side of  the  chamber,  opposite

where they'd entered, was another door.

Taking the seat nearest to him, Aabe indicated  for  the  others  to  sit

also.

They did so, occupying a semicircle of  chairs  opposite  him-all  except

Stalgis, that is, who opted to remain at the door with  Irolia.  Guarding  the

guard, perhaps, Jacen thought.

The door behind Aabe slid open without a sound, and four figures  entered

the room. Their faces were hidden by hoods, and  each  of  their  head-to-foot

robes was a different color-bronze, rust-red, silver-gray,  and  copper-green.

Without a word, they took seats  at  seemingly  random  positions  around  the

circle, spreading themselves out on either side of Aabe.

An awkward silence followed, only broken when Mara asked, "So, do we find

but now who we're talking to?" "No," said the hooded figure in bronze-a  woman

with a rich contralto voice.

"Just as our families are defined by their function in society, so are we

defined by our roles as representatives of those families. We are here  before

you not as people, but as the beginning and end points  of  a  decision-making

process." "No names?" Mara asked, not attempting to hide her annoyance.

"No names," agreed the green-robed figure. This one was a male-and  young

by the sound of his voice.

"But you know who we are." "As is our right," Bronze said. "After all, it

is you who come to us for help.

You do not need to know who acts on behalf of  the  Chiss.  We  represent

everyone." "You must tell us what it is you want," said the  figure  in  rust-

red.

Gray nodded in agreement. "Then we can give you our decision." "We do not

decide lightly," Copper-green added.

"But our decision will be final," Bronze  concluded.  "Do  you  agree  to

these conditions?" "What if we don't?" Mara asked, resting back  in  her  seat

and folding her arms defiantly across her chest.

"Then you will be asked to leave," Aabe said. His tone left no doubt that

asked to leave was a euphemism.

"Our request is simple," Luke said, heading off a protest from Mara.  "We

are looking for the living planet, Zonama Sekot. We  have  reason  to  believe

that it might be hiding in what we refer to as the  Unknown  Regions.  As  the

major power in these regions, you have every right to  question  our  presence

here. It is my hope that you will assist us-either passively, by permitting us

to cross your borders unhindered, or actively, by allowing us  access  to  any

information you have on the subject." "That  is  all?"  Gray  asked,  possibly

surprised by the simplicity of the request.

Luke nodded. "That is all." "And what have you achieved in your quest  so

far?" Bronze asked.

Luke explained where their mission had taken them, outlining the numerous

systems they'd surveyed on the inner edge of the Unknown Regions, the  various

civilizations they had briefly touched upon, the hints of  Zonama  Sekot  they

had received. Invariably the clues came to them in the form of a story told by

grandparents, or a dimly recalled memory. Their efforts had been frustrated by

the absence of solid evidence. Since  the  planet  had  a  tendency  to  avoid

systems containing any sort of advanced civilization,  there  were  no  actual

physical records to prove that it had ever really been anywhere. It was as  if

they were chasing a ghost that had vanished decades ago.

"And yet despite this, you seem confident of success," Copper-green said.

"We would not have taken on the mission in the first  place  had  we  not

believed it achievable," Luke said. "And we will do what we must to ensure its

success." "And why must you do this, exactly?" Rust, the second woman  of  the

four, sounded genuinely puzzled. "Commander Irolia is uncertain on this point.

Although  she  believes  that  you  are  trustworthy,  your  goal   seems

incredible and your motives  are  obscure.  You  cannot  blame  us  for  being

cautious." Luke sighed. "No, I cannot. And if I were you,  I  would  be  wary,

too. I can only say that we are willing to take any steps you require in order

to demonstrate our veracity in this matter." "Except discontinue your  quest,"

Gray said.

"Except that, yes. We will continue to search for Zonama Sekot,  with  or

without your help." There was a moment's silence in which  Jacen  sensed  that

the Chiss representatives were conferring behind their hoods, but he  couldn't

read  exactly  what  it  was  they  were  saying.  Strong-willed  people  were

notoriously hard to read, and the Chiss were about as strong-willed as a  race

could be.

"What of this new Alliance of yours?" Bronze asked. "Are we  required  to

join it?" "No," Luke said. "Although the fact  that  we  have  common  enemies

suggest that there might be advantages in doing so, someday."  "Indeed,  there

might be," Rust said, nodding slowly.

"On the matter of your presence within our borders,"  Copper-green  said,

"it is an issue upon which we find ourselves somewhat divided."  "Two  of  our

number are willing to allow you free access to Chiss territories," Gray  said,

"on the grounds that there is little you will find here that either we do  not

already know or will do us harm." "If Zonama Sekot truly  existed  within  our

borders," Bronze added, "we would surely know about it already." "On the other

hand," Copper-green said, "the vagueness of your motives calls  into  question

the true purpose of your mission. It can be argued that the  issue  of  Zonama

Sekot is a cover for something more sinister." "While it is true," Rust  said,

"that we have as yet seen no evidence of hostile intent, your  presumption  to

come here without first asking questions is arrogance of the first  order  and

should not be encouraged." "So we find ourselves at an impasse," Bronze said.

"A tie," Copper-green said.

Gray inclined his head. "This is not an  uncommon  situation,  given  the

diversity of  our  needs."  "As  in  all  such  situations,  we  turn  to  the

Expansionary Defense Fleet to cast the deciding  vote."  Rust  turned  to  her

left. "Chief Navigator Aabe?" Jacen inwardly groaned. There was  no  way  Aahe

was going to vote in their favor.

The ex-Imperial looked superciliously down  his  nose  at  Luke  and  the

others seated before him. "The case seems quite clear to  me,"  he  said.  "We

cannot allow intruders to travel unchecked through  our  territory,  for  that

would betray  the  trust  of  the  Chiss  people.  There  have  been  numerous

incursions of late by the Yuuzhan Vong, and any  relaxation  of  security  now

will only encourage such problems  to  go  unnoticed.  From  the  position  of

internal as well as external security, I advise that we do not give permission

for this expedition to freely wander Chiss space." Both Luke  and  Mara  moved

simultaneously, as though each was about to protest the decision.

"However," Aabe went on, raising a hand to cut off whatever it was they'd

been about to say, "I am reasonably certain that  the  Skywalkers'  intentions

are honorable, and it is not in the Chiss nature to turn away those  genuinely

in need. Therefore, in the interest of  good  relations,  and  the  hope  that

something may actually  come  of  this  quest,  I  would  like  to  suggest  a

compromise. The thing the Skywalkers need  more  than  freedom  of  access  is

information. No single mission could cover the entire  Unknown  Regions  in  a

practical amount of time, even with the records of the Imperial Remnant  as  a

guide. I propose that the Skywalkers and their allies be given full access  to

the Expeditionary Library here on Csilla, in order  that  they  might  conduct

their search in safety." Mara sank  uncertainly  into  her  seat,  while  Luke

beside her could only lift his eyebrows in surprise. Jacen had to  admit  that

Aabe's suggestion did make a kind of sense - although exactly for whom it  was

"safer" remained unclear. Was the chief navigator referring to  the  crews  of

Jade Shadow and Widowmaker, or was he  implying  that  Chiss  space  would  be

better off without these ships roaming through it? Either way,  Jacen  was  as

surprised as his uncle that the ex-Imperial officer had actually suggested  it

at all.

"There is one condition," Aabe said.

Ah, Jacen thought. Here comes the catch.

"I would not want the Galactic Federation of Free  Alliances  to  mistake

our intentions," Aabe continued. "This offer should be  open  for  a  strictly

limited period. If the Skywalkers and their companions  have  failed  to  find

what they require within that time, then the offer will be rescinded and  they

will be required to immediately leave Chiss space." "How  long  do  you  think

will be necessary?" Copper-green asked.

"Two standard days should be sufficient," Aabe replied. "After  all,  how

hard can it be to search for a  living  planet  that  appears  and  disappears

across the galaxy? There are only so many  legends  one  can  trace,  and  our

library is  second  to  none."  The  four  robed  figures  nodded  in  unified

agreement. "We regard this as an acceptable compromise," Bronze said.  "Master

Skywalker?" Luke straightened his shoulders and rose to his  feet.  "I  accept

the terms of your offer." Jacen sensed Mara begging to differ,  but  outwardly

she agreed.

"Then you are free to begin whenever you wish," Bronze said.

All four representatives rose from their seats in unison, but it was Gray

who spoke. "A guide from the Inrokini family will be assigned to instruct  you

on the use of the  library.  If  you  are  ready,  Chief  Navigator  Aabe  and

Commander Irolia will take you there now." "Thank you," Luke said, bowing.

"That concludes our business," Rust said. Without another word,  she  and

the others turned and walked from the room.

"That's it?" Mara said, watching their backs disappear  through  the  far

door.

"What more do you want?" Aabe asked. "We have been generous with our time

and we will continue to be generous with our resources. There is no obligation

to help you hanging over our head. You should be-" He stopped  and  shook  his

head. " I was about to say grateful, but that would be incorrect. Gratitude is

an emotional response not necessarily contingent on what has been offered.

Appropriately honored might be closer to what I meant to say." "We  are,"

Luke said. "And we are also keen to  start  work  as  soon  as  possible."  He

indicated the door. "May we?" Aabe nodded as he made  for  the  door,  saying,

"I'm glad to see at least one of you appreciates the way of  the  Chiss."  The

doors opened into the gardenlike hall, and  Irolia  and  Aabe  led  the  party

through. They had barely traveled half the hall's length when  a  tall  figure

stepped out of a small niche to intercept the group. Broad-shouldered  and  as

solid as a wall, he stood in front of them as though daring them to try to get

past him. A black patch covered one eye, matching his uniform;  iron  streaked

his black hair and goatee.

"Mara Jade," he said. "We meet again." She moved  forward  a  step  while

Jacen and the others stopped.

"That's Mara Jade Sky walker, Soontir Fel," she replied.

Fel nodded in acknowledgment but made no effort to correct himself.

"Chief Navigator Aabe had led us to believe that  you  were  'absent,'  "

Mara commented.

"That is patently not the case." "So were you just avoiding us  earlier?"

"Avoiding the decision-making process, yes."  Fel's  voice  was  gravelly  but

strong. Jacen could see where Jagged Pel inherited his father's  presence,  if

not his width. "My thoughts are not unclouded by emotions over this  issue.  I

recall offering you an alliance some time ago." Mara nodded. "The irony wasn't

lost on me, either." "You didn't take it then, yet you expect us to take yours

now." The enormous frame of the man who had once been  the  Empire's  greatest

TIE fighter pilot shifted minutely. It might have been a shrug, Jacen thought.

"It is the way of the Chiss," he went on,  "to  stand  down  and  let  another

decide when one is unable to be  impartial.  I  trusted  Peita  to  view  with

clarity what I could not." Fel's gaze was as cold and sharp as an ice  dagger.

Jacen didn't understand where the man's hostility came from. It was one  thing

to be old enemies, but that didn't  explain  the  passion  that  so  obviously

burned behind the man's gaze.

Luke moved to stand beside his wife. "I believe we reached a satisfactory

conclusion." He held out his hand. "Under other circumstances, perhaps it'd be

a pleasure, Soontir." Fel  hesitated,  then  returned  the  gesture,  gripping

Luke's hand in his enormous fist. "We're  not  allies  yet,  Skywalker."  "But

we're not enemies, either. Surely that counts for something." Mara made a show

of glancing at her chronometer. "We should really be going," she said.  "Those

two days aren't going to stick around forever." "Indeed," Pel said.  His  dark

gaze swept the  group  gathered  behind  the  Skywalkers.  "The  Expeditionary

Library is some distance from here, in another enclave. Rather than move  your

ship, I suggest you allow me to provide you transport.  The  resources  at  my

disposal are more secure than even  those  the  Chiss  normally  offer."  Luke

hesitated, and Jacen could sense his uncle conferring with Mara. He  was  sure

that Luke's concerns reflected his own reservations. Aabe's decision to  allow

them access to the library had surprised him, but Jacen could see how it might

be a ploy to separate them from the ship. And he knew Mara wouldn't want to be

any farther horn Jade Shadow than was absolutely necessary.

But did they dare risk offending Fel by refusing his offer? Or could they

afford the time it would take  to  move  their  own  ship  when  a  convenient

alternative was available? After all, as Mara had said, two days wasn't a  lot

of time to play with.

"Thank you," Luke said in the end. "Your offer would  certainly  save  us

some time." "But if you try anything,  Soontir..."  Mara  let  the  threat  go

unstated, but there was no mistaking it in her tone or body language.

Fel almost smiled. "Believe me: if I had wanted to try something, I would

have done so long before now." He turned away. "Time  is  wasting.  We  cannot

afford to be standing here chatting like fools. If you're going to  come  with

me, then I suggest you do so now. Because the deadline is not going to change.

" "You'll make sure of that, will you?" Mara asked.

He fixed her with another steely gaze. "You can count on  it,  Mara  Jade

Skywalker." Jaina was exhausted by the time they returned  to  their  quarters

after the first day on Bakura. The meeting with the Senate had been  postponed

so Prime Minister Cun-dertol could attend,  leaving  them  stuck  with  junior

officials and restless flunkies. When the time finally came, the  presence  of

the  Galactic  Alliance  delegation  was  completely  swamped  by  Cundertol's

triumphant appearance and  the  banquet  that  followed.  His  long,  somewhat

rambling and self - congratulatory speech was greeted  with  cheers  from  the

Senate and the press galleries, but left her agreeing with  Jag's  impression:

The Prime Minister of Bakura was a good-looking figurehead, but a  little  too

obsessed with his own interests to be a good statesperson.

Nevertheless, the banquet hadn't been too bad. Men and  women  in  formal

attire had provided attentive service, rather than droids, making  Jaina  feel

very out of place in her expedition uniform. The food had been excellent,  and

she'd had the chance to sample some of the Namana nectar she'd heard  so  much

about, a liqueur the Bakurans were particularly proud of. And  rightfully  so,

she had to admit. Orange in color, it caressed her taste  buds  like  a  slow-

burning ray of sunlight. She'd only taken a sip, however; she didn't want  her

reflexes dulled.

Judging by its effects on the people around her, her decision had been  a

wise one.

Two people who had also stayed resolutely sober were  Cundertol  and  his

deputy, Blaine Harris. She wondered if that  explained  her  impression  that,

despite the seemingly friendly and polite exchanges between  them,  underneath

the surface simmered a powerful tension. It might have been a  mutual  dislike

of each other, but why that should be, exactly, Jaina wasn't sure.  They  were

political running mates, after all. It could have been nothing more  than  the

fact that both were powerful personalities and dominating men.

Working  together  in  such  close  but  clearly  defined   roles   would

undoubtedly chafe.

Still, it made her  curious.  She  wondered  how  Harris  had  felt  upon

receiving the news of Cundertol's kidnapping. She imagined that  part  of  him

would have been secretly relieved to be rid of him. If the Prime Minister died

or disappeared, his deputy would be the natural  successor.  The  question  of

whether Harris had been involved in the kidnapping itself therefore had to  be

asked. And if he had, then Malinza Thanas's arrest would have been little more

than a deliberate attempt by Harris to find a scapegoat.

Really, though, there was nothing she could pin down  to  justify  either

Jag's nebulous suspicions, or her own. Cundertol's Force presence  was  strong

and clear: He was who he said he was, and his thoughts were his own.

Even Lwothin, the P'w'eck advance leader, seemed nothing but  pleased  at

Cundertol's return. A little relieved, perhaps-but  that  was  understandable,

given that the consecration of Bakura was due to take place the very next day.

With Cundertol back and the popular leader of the resistance behind bars,

there was no reason for the Keeramak to further delay its arrival.  The  dull-

scaled saurian hadn't partaken of the local delicacies, preferring instead  to

stick to a dish of fft-a multilegged lizard that had been imported from Lwhekk

especially for the occasion. Throughout the banquet he seemed to be  carefully

observing the people and the goings-on around him, and although  Jaina's  eyes

met his on several occasions, she found his golden gaze completely unreadable.

"Anyone else feel like we're the odd ones  out?"  Han  asked,  collapsing

onto a floating couch. Their rooms weren't as finely  appointed  as  the  ones

they'd had on Galantos, but that suited Jaina just fine. Too much  hospitality

only made her edgy.

"They're just caught up in their own affairs." As  was  often  the  case,

Leia's input on the matter was in opposition to her husband's, but to show she

wasn't being argumentative, she sat on the couch beside Han and took his  hand

in hers.

She didn't mean to be contrary; she simply wanted to make sure that every

situation was properly viewed from all angles. It had taken Jaina a long  time

to understand the way her mother's mind worked,  something  her  twin  brother

seemed to have picked up instinctively a long time ago. "They'll get around to

us when they have reason to."  "Perhaps  they  should  be  reminded  of  those

reasons," Jaina said, talking over her shoulder as she set up the  same  anti-

bugging equipment they'd used on Galantos.  "They've  got  problems  a  simple

treaty isn't going fix, because if that illegal transmission  we  received  is

anything to go by, then the resistance infiltrators are high  up  the  command

chain. Locking Malinza Thanas away isn't going to magically erase  that  fact.

If anything, it could make it worse." In the corner of her  eye,  she  noticed

Tahiri  moving  restlessly  through  the  rooms,,  as  though  searching   for

something, and wondered what the younger Jedi was doing.

"It depends on what they want," Leia was  saying.  "One  group  seems  in

favor of an alliance with the P'w'eck as  opposed  to  an  alliance  with  us.

Another wants nothing to do with the P'w'eck." She  shrugged.  "If  our  being

here exposes the cracks in the underground, then that might be a  good  thing.

Instead of one concentrated assault on the local government, their  objectives

may fragment, resulting in  a  number  of  small  and  relatively  ineffectual

attacks." "Scattershot might be inaccurate," Han said, absently  playing  with

Leia's fingers in his hand, "but it usually hits  something.  Personally,  I'd

rather be on the receiving end of a single sniper than a dozen people spraying

wildly. At least with a sniper you  know  when  the  threat  is-"  He  stopped

midsentence, his attention also caught by Tahiri's unusual behavior.  Now  she

was inspecting the underside of an antique drink cabinet.

"Tahiri?" Leia said. "What are you-?" "A-ha!" Tahiri stood bolt  upright,

brandishing a small object in her outstretched hand. "This is it!"  Jaina  and

her parents exchanged confused looks.

"This is what?" Jaina asked.

Tahiri brought the thing closer for the others to see. Jaina leaned in to

examine the object and found it to be a metallic  capsule  no  larger  than  a

baby's tooth.

"The Ryn said we'd find what we needed here," Tahiri said. "This  has  to

be it." "The Ryn?" Leia repeated.

Han quickly outlined what he had learned about  Tahiri's  encounter  with

the Ryn on the landing field.

"Did he say anything else?" Leia asked Tahiri.

"Only that he thought you should be careful," Tahiri told  her.  "But  he

couldn't talk properly there, so he said he'd contact us later. Perhaps that's

what this is: a note of some kind." She fiddled with the capsule,  turning  it

over in her hands and picking at a seam around its  middle.  Nothing  happened

until she squeezed it between two fingers; then one end clicked and there  was

a brief but intense flash of light.

Jaina blinked in surprise, waiting for  something  else  to  happen.  But

nothing did. The capsule was inert again, and no matter how much Tahiri  poked

at the thing, she couldn't get it to repeat the flash of light.

"That can't be right," the young Jedi muttered. "You'd  think  he'd  make

sure it worked before leaving it for us." "Excuse me,  Mistress  Leia,"  C-3PO

said, "but-"

Han raised a hand to motion him to be quiet. "Hang on,  Goldenrod.  We're

busy right now trying to figure out how this thing  works."  "But,  sir,"  the

droid said. "I already know how it works." All four  stopped  what  they  were

doing and turned to C-3PO.

"Well?" Han asked after almost fifteen  seconds.  "Come  on!"  "It  would

seem, sir," C-3PO said, "that  the  flash  of  light  contained  a  compressed

message-a holographic page of writing, to be precise. My  photoreceptors  were

able to collect the data and store it in my memory banks."  "A  note?"  Tahiri

asked excitedly. "What does it say?" "It appears to be written in  an  obscure

Givin code." " But can you translate it?" The droid bristled at the very  idea

he might not be able to. "Of course. The message reads:  'Malinza  Thanas  has

information you will need. She is being held in Cell Twelve-Seventeen  of  the

Salis D'aar Penitentiary. You can gain access through  Rear  Entrance  Twenty-

three at midnight tonight. The code word is fringe  dweller.  I  will  try  to

contact you properly tomorrow.' ' Jaina committed the details to  memory.  "Is

that all?" "I'm afraid so, Mistress Jaina." "It's not much, is it?" Tahiri put

in, disappointed.

"It's enough for now," Leia said. "I'll go and find out what Malinza  has

to say as soon as the time is right." Jaina shook her head. "Let me  go,"  she

said. "You'll be missed.  They'll  expect  you  to  stay  to  investigate  the

situation with the P'w'eck. If you send me  or  Dad  in  your  place,  they'll

wonder why." "Will Malinza listen to you, though?" Leia asked. "Right now  she

has no more reason to trust you than we have to trust her." "I'll just have to

use my winning ways, I guess. Be - sides, it's not as if she's going  to  find

many willing-ears in prison. This could be the last chance she gets."  "Okay."

Leia stood and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "But be  careful,  won't

you?" Jaina smiled, then brushed off her mother's concern -  sweet  though  it

was-and went to her room to prepare.

"Halt!" The image of a guard appeared in  the  stolen  villip.  Nom  Anor

watched as the Shamed One carrying the villip-cunningly concealed  in  a  dead

and - hollowed k'snell vase-unhesitatingly  obeyed  the  warrior's  command-as

would be expected of a member of the lowest social class who had just wandered

into Lord Shimrra's antechambers.

The guard advanced slowly upon the Shamed One, his face set in  a  sneer.

"In your haste to rejoin Yun-Shuno, you have  forgotten  that  no  one  enters

these chambers without permission  from  the  Supreme  Overlord  himself."  He

stopped a couple of paces from the Shamed One,  his  grotesque  visage  thrust

into close focus. "Explain why it is that your vile presence now dirties these

floors." "I-I was sent by High Priest Jakan," stammered Nom  Anor's  spy.  She

had practiced the excuse many times before leaving on her mission, but it  had

never before sounded so  unconvincing.  "He  or-ordered  me  to  present  this

offering-" "Lies!" The warrior's amphistaff uncurled from around his uniformed

waist, snapping into an attack position. "You will tell me what it is you  are

doing here, and then, for your transgressions, you will feel the wrath of Lord

Shimrra's palace guard." As the warrior took another step closer,  the  Shamed

One dropped to her knees, clutching the k'snell vase and the villip within  to

her chest. "Please-" Nom Anor couldn't see her face, but he could imagine  her

fear.

" Your begging is an affront to all Yuuzhan Vong!" the warrior growled as

he raised his amphistaff. "Prepare to die!" "Jeedai!" the Shamed One screeched

suddenly, her tone no longer obsequious and sniveling.  As  was  planned,  she

triggered the patch at the base of the k'snell with  the  palm  of  her  hand.

"Ganner!" The image died with the villip and the Shamed  One  a  split  second

before the amphistaff came crashing down. The last thing Nom Anor saw  of  the

antechamber was the twisted and hateful snarl of the warrior.

"She wasn't supposed to say anything about the Jedi," he said, using  the

infidel pronunciation he had become accustomed to during years  of  undercover

work. A rising tide of anger was hard to contain. They had been so close!

"At'raoth was devoted to the cause," Shoon-mi said. He stood to one  side

of Nom Anor's new throne, situated in a hiding place that was far removed from

the last one. The former Shamed One was clearly uneasy  in  the  aftermath  of

their failed attempt to infiltrate Shimrra's chambers.  "She  went  willingly,

knowing that she might die." "But whether she died the right way remains to be

seen," Kunra said. "Will she be captured and tortured? Will they  learn  about

us?" "No!" Shoon-mi seemed shocked by the suggestion. "She will have taken the

appropriate precautions."  Nom  Anor  was  certain  his  highest  acolyte  was

correct. "The appropriate precautions" meant, in this case, breaking the false

tooth at the back of her mouth  and  swallowing  the  irksh  poison  they  had

provided her with. It would have killed her instantly. Her  fanatical  loyalty

to the cause guaranteed that she would have obeyed that last command.

But even suicide might not be sufficient to avoid di - saster,  Nom  Anor

thought. The spy had openly declared her allegiance to  the  Jedi  heresy,  so

Shimrra would certainly be alerted now to attempts to infiltrate his walls. It

would be even harder to get in next time-and riskier.

That didn't mean he'd give up trying, though. He  didn't  care  how  many

acolytes died in the attempt. Information on his enemy's activities was vital.

Any campaign, covert or overt, depended on intelligence, which meant he needed

to get someone on the inside of those walls-and soon. If he couldn't, then  he

wouldn't know what measures were being taken against him, and  that  left  him

unacceptably vulnerable.

"We did well just to get this  far,"  Kunra  said.  It  was  a  desperate

attempt to make good out of a bad situation,  but  there  was  no  hiding  his

weariness.

"At'raoth made it farther than any of the  others."  "I  believe  I  even

heard voices," Shoon-mi said.

Nom Anor nodded. He had heard voices, too, from within the chamber on the

far side of the threshold the spy had attempted to cross.  He  was  sure  that

those voices had belonged to High Prefect Drathul, High Priest Jakan, and Lord

Shimrra's abominable puppet Onimi. Someone had been arguing with  them-one  of

the warriors, perhaps. The argument had been too faint to discern  any  actual

words, but it had been close. Had At'raoth made it just a few steps closer...

He growled an ancient oath under his breath. Mistakes risked the ruin  of

everything he was trying to achieve. The heretical movement was still too weak

to survive a concerted purge.

"We have to try again,"  he  said  shortly.  "We  need  access  to  those

chambers." Frustration boiled inside him like a magnetic storm. He missed  his

old networks, his  chain  of  informers,  the  many  spies  who  had  fed  him

information. Bloated on data, he had not known how fortunate he'd been  before

his fall. Starved, weakened by ignorance, he longed  for  a  return  to  those

glory days. " If we can't get a villip inside, then we will need an informer."

"But who?" Shoon-mi asked. "And how?" "Our numbers are increasing," Kunra said

by way of reply. "Word is rising up the ranks. It's  only  a  matter  of  time

before we infiltrate the upper echelons." "I cannot wait that long!" Nom  Anor

snapped. "The closer we get to the top, the riskier it becomes for us. Without

knowing what Shimrra knows, we are like one of his sacrifices:  on  our  knees

with a coufee at our throats, waiting for the killing blow to finish us  off."

He shrugged under his robes. Lately in his dreams he found himself  fleeing  a

band of warriors bent on his destruction. He never  saw  them,  but  he  could

always sense them close behind, and could always hear them. In his dreams,  he

was nothing more than an animal being hunted.

He shook his head; the waking hours were no time to waste on nightmares.

"I will not die down here," he said. "I will not become like the corridor

ghouls: blind and vulnerable to anyone  with  light."  "It  will  not  happen,

Master," Shoon-mi said lamely. "We would let no such  thing  happen  to  you."

Shoon-mi's attempts to reassure him were like those he would use on  a  child,

and Nom Anor brushed them aside with the contempt they deserved.

"Enough!" He stalked back to the throne and collapsed into it.  "Find  me

another volunteer. We will try again;  we  will  keep  trying  until  we  have

achieved our goal! We must crack Shimrra's security  before  he  cracks  ours.

It's either that, or perish." Shoon-mi swallowed and backed away,  bowing.  He

didn't know anything about the spy they'd captured at their last headquarters,

but he understood the reality of their situation. They were heretics, anathema

to Shimrra and the priests, a contamination to be purged.  A  rust,  Nom  Anor

thought, remembering his musing on the rotting of iron he had observed in  the

belly of Yuuzhan'tar before adopting the mantle of Prophet.

"It will be done, Master." "Make certain of it," Nom Anor said. His glare

fell upon Kunra, also. "Both of you." Kunra nodded grimly, not needing to  say

that there were only so many volunteers left to be  wasted  on  such  hopeless

missions. The more that failed, the fewer there were to choose from next time.

Sacrifice needed a point to be noble.

But he, too, understood the harsh reality of the situation. It was either

kill or be killed. If the most the Shamed Ones could gain was  to  choose  the

manner of their passing, then that, at least, was something. It was  certainly

more than Shimrra had ever offered them.

Jain a crouched behind a stone balustrade on  the  roof  of  a  warehouse

across the road from the penitentiary. She kept herself  low  to  avoid  being

spotted by the powerful floodlights sweeping the area. Regular patrols  around

the perimeter of the prison she had expected, but the Ryn hadn't  warned  them

about the swarm of G-2RD sentry droids that accompanied them, and  she  hadn't

anticipated them.

The Bakurans' usual dislike of droids  had  obviously  been  overcome  by

pragmatism in this case. Surveillance of the area  was  frequent  and  random,

making it difficult to predict when sweeps would next  take  place.  Worst  of

all, she had tripped some sort of concealed alarm when she'd  dared  make  her

first dash for the rear entrance. The entire compound was now on  full  alert,

ready and waiting for someone to break in.

Half an hour's careful observation convinced her that it was unlikely she

could sneak in unobserved. And if the se-curity on the inside was as stringent

as that on the outside, then she wasn't going to last a  minute  in  there-let

alone reach the cell she needed. No, she was going to have to try another way.

..

Slipping out from her hiding space, she crossed the roof of the warehouse

and descended a narrow ladder fixed to the far wall. The laneway at  its  base

was cluttered with rubbish, suggesting it was rarely used. Following it to its

end, she allowed a trio of deep and calming breaths to fill her with  a  sense

of control and authority.

I am not a covert agent, she told herself. I  am  the  representative  of

visiting dignitaries, and the people here are our allies.

With a brisk, measured pace, she walked around the corner and  into  full

view of the security droids. A spotlight instantly hit her full in  the  face,

but she didn't break step-the slightest hesitation could destroy the  illusion

she was trying to create.

Two G-2RD droids swooped from emplacements in the  high  ferrocrete  wall

that was the rear of the prison. Floating spheres equipped with several  means

to inflict discomfort, they converged on her, buzzing furiously like  agitated

insects.

"Halt!" exclaimed one. She couldn't tell which.

She stopped within three meters of the rear entrance,  radiating  patient

obedience.

"State your name and purpose here," ordered the other, its voice a  nasal

whine probably designed to irritate.

"My name is Jaina Solo," she replied easily.  "I'm  here  to  speak  with

Malinza Thanas." Both droids buzzed as they performed a  quick  check  on  her

clearance. After a couple of seconds, one of the droids advanced with its stun

prod crackling. "No  such  visitation  has  been  authorized."  "Please  don't

threaten me," she said, sending the small droid into a spin with a  push  from

the Force. "I really don't take too kindly to things like  that."  The  second

droid emitted a piercing wail that Jaina was quick to cut short.

She reached deep into the droid's circuitry with the Force and fused  its

vocabulator.

More droids and spotlights converged on her. She couldn't have drawn more

attention to herself if she'd wanted to. Nevertheless, she maintained her calm

exterior and kept her hands well away from her lightsaber.

"I am here to speak with Malinza Thanas,"  she  repeated,  patiently  and

firmly.

"Please let me through." The first droid  recovered  from  its  spin  and

faced her again, this time speaking with a different voice, that  of  a  guard

from within the compound, obviously watching through the droid's sensors.

"I'm sorry, but we cannot  allow  visitors  without  authorization."  She

folded her arms in front of her. "Then I suggest you get it, because  I'm  not

going anywhere until I've seen Malinza And I  have  no  intention  of  leaving

quietly. I'll give you one minute to comply." The droid buzzed, bobbing up and

down as though itching to be given the okay to  attack  her.  She  watched  it

warily while counting from one to sixty in her head.

At the end of the minute, she heard hurried footsteps coming  toward  her

from around the nearest corner.

"I can't wait all night, you know," she said, brushing the droids  easily

aside and taking three more paces toward  the  rear  door  that  the  Ryn  had

specified in his message. There she spoke the code word she'd been given.

"Fringe dweller." The door instantly hissed open, lifting sharply up into

the ceiling. She strode through into a glowing  white  corridor  that  led  as

straight as a beam of light into the heart of the building.

A chorus of buzzing from the droids followed her. A new voice issued from

the nearest droid's casing.

"This is a flagrant disregard for regulations!" There was  no  disguising

the guard's annoyance. "Whoever you are, I  must  insist  that-"  "As  I  have

already explained," she said, "my name is Jaina Solo, and I'd appreciate it if

you could make up your minds as to whether you intend to assist me  or  arrest

me. I really have no desire to fight you, but if you force my hand then I-"  "

You can't expect to just walk in here and see  any  prisoner  you  like!  Ever

heard of protocol?" "You ever heard of a diplomatic incident?" she shot  back.

"Because that's what you're going to get if I don't get to see Malinza Thanas.

" The pause was longer this time,  and  she  sensed  the  droids  backing  off

slightly. A squad of guards had appeared behind them, and  waited  uncertainly

to see what she would do next.

"Well?" she prompted after a while. "What's it to be?" "Please wait where

you are." The voice seemed more cowed than it had been a  moment  before,  and

Jaina suspected the guards had been instructed by their superiors to  let  her

through. "An escort will arrive shortly." No sooner had this  been  said  than

four Bakuran security guards came hurrying around  the  corner-their  weapons,

she noted, carefully bolstered.

"Come with us," ordered the one nearest to her. He spoke firmly, gruffly,

but there was no escaping the fact that he was a little uneasy. Jaina  allowed

herself a slight  smile  at  this;  they  weren't  as  good  at  hiding  their

nervousness as she was.

She didn't move. "Not until I know where you're taking me." "You're to be

taken to see the prisoner," he replied. "As requested." There was derision  in

his tone, but it was all bluster and show. He knew that Jaina  had  the  upper

hand in this situation.

Her smile widened. It never hurt to boost respect for  Jedi  on  outlying

worlds, and respect wasn't always earned at the end of a lightsaber.

She offered a polite bow of her head in  the  direction  of  the  droids,

knowing that whoever had authorized her would  no  doubt  be  watching.  There

would be no further need for any aggressive posturing this evening-not  unless

she was provoked, of course. "I apologize for this inconvenience. The sooner I

can see Malinza Thanas, the sooner I can be out  of  your  hair."  Her  senses

finely attuned for any sign of deception, she let herself be shepherded by the

four guards deep into the heart of the penitentiary. The high - security  wing

was identical to the regular wings except for G-2RD droids stationed at  every

junction. They hummed menacingly when she passed, as though warning her not to

try the same tricks she had employed on their fellow sentries.  She  tried  to

memorize every turn and corridor as she went, but it  wasn't  easy.  They  all

looked the same to her, and  the  cell  numbers  didn't  seem  to  follow  any

particular pattern.

Finally they arrived at Cell 12-17. The door looked like all  the  others

they'd passed along the way: sterile white with no window or openings. One  of

the lead guards keyed a short code into a keypad, then  stepped  back  as  the

cell door slid open with a dull grinding sound.

Inside, on a narrow cot, sat a thin, dark-haired girl  of  about  fifteen

years.

Despite the gray prison uniform and the bruises to her face and arms, she

still had a defiant look about her-but there was also exhaustion  behind  that

defiance.

"What now?" the girl asked.

"A visitor," the first guard said, motioning Jaina to enter. He indicated

a green touchpad by the door. "When you're done, just hit  the  CALL  button."

"Kinda late  for  visitors,  isn't  it?"  Malinza  said,  looking  Jaina  over

suspiciously.

Jaina stepped into the brightly lit cell. "My name is  Jaina  Solo,"  she

said as the door closed behind her. She examined the girl  quickly,  wondering

what sort of treatment she'd been subjected to.

Malinza's sharply defined face tilted upward. She  studied  Jaina  for  a

moment before nodding. "Uncle Luke has spoken about you. He once showed  me  a

holo of you and Jacen when you were little." Jaina felt an unaccountable  stab

of jealousy at the girl's words. Uncle Luke?

Who was this girl she'd never met, claiming Jaina's uncle as her own?

Indignation  quickly  gave  way  to  understanding,  however,  when   she

remembered that Malinza was Luke's sponsor daughter.  With  both  her  parents

dead-Gaeriel Captison, former Prime Minister of  Bakura,  had  sacrificed  her

life to destroy a large chunk of the troublesome Sacorrian Triad,  while  Pter

Thanas died of Knowt's disease some years earlier-Luke Skywalker was  probably

the closest thing she had to family. What right did Jaina  have  to  deny  the

girl that?

"I wish we could have met under better circumstances," she  said,  moving

deeper into the small room, close to the girl. She gestured to the bunk.  "May

I?" "You sure picked a bad time to visit," Malinza said as she moved  to  make

room for Jaina to sit down.

"Want to tell me about it?" Malinza studied Jaina with  a  maturity  that

was at odds with her age. Her gaze was piercing, made even more  disconcerting

by the fact that her eyes were different colors. Her left iris was green,  her

right gray.

Just as her mother's had been, Jaina thought.

For a long moment it seemed as though Malinza wasn't ever going to  reply

to Jaina's question.

"You know why I'm in here," she said after a while.

"You've been charged with kidnapping the Prime Minister." "Actually,  the

official charge is disturbing the peace and conspiracy." "Doesn't it amount to

the same thing?" Malinza shook her head. "The difference is an important  one,

actually." t: "Why? Now that Cundertol has returned-" "I  had  nothing  to  do

with him," Malinza interrupted. "But the rest is true enough." "Sorry,  but  I

find it hard to picture you as a  disturber  of  the  peace."  Malinza  smiled

faintly at Jaina's comment as she held out her arms to  display  the  bruises.

"Look at me," she said. "If they wanted to beat me, there are ways they  could

have done it without leaving any marks. I earned these while resisting arrest.

It took three of them,  as  well  as  two  droids,  to  bring  me  down."  Her

expression held a burning pride, but it failed to hide the terrible  weariness

that Jaina recognized all too clearly. She remembered that feeling  from  when

Anakin had died: of there being nothing  left  to  lose;  of  desperation;  of

despair. It was so easy to mistake the signs of  self-destruction  for  battle

scars.

"What are you fighting for?" Jaina asked.

"That's the strange thing.  A  week  ago,  I  wasn't  fighting  at  all."

Malinza's defiance dissolved altogether then, and became  a  look  of  genuine

bemusement.

"You've no idea what you've just stepped into. I  tell  you,  it's  crazy

around here." "In what way, Malinza?" Jaina leaned in closer to  en-couiage  a

feeling of trust.

The girl chuckled. "That I'd even think about telling you is probably the

craziest thing of all," she said, slumping back against the wall.  "If  anyone

here is the enemy, it's you." Jaina frowned but  said  nothing,  sensing  that

there was no point pushing. It would come or it wouldn't.

After more than a dozen heartbeats, Malinza sighed. "Whatever.  It's  not

as if I haven't tried to tell everyone here already." "They don't believe you?

" "Why else do you think I'm in here?" The girl pointed at  where  a  security

cam watched them. "I guess it couldn't hurt for them to hear it one more time.

And who knows: they might even listen this time." "And even  if  they  don't,"

Jaina said, "you can be assured that  I  will."  Malinza  smiled  and  nodded.

"Okay," she said, leaning forward again to begin her story. "About a month ago

I was  in  charge  of  a  cell  of  activists,  capitalizing  on  my  parents'

reputations to get our message heard. There were sixteen  of  us  in  all.  At

first we just organized protests, spread the word-but  it's  grown  much  more

over time. We called ourselves Freedom." She rolled her eyes.  "It's  lame,  I

know, but it gets the point across." "And what point  is  that?"  "That  we're

tired of kowtowing to Imperial doctrines, of course. It's time for us to throw

off our shackles and govern ourselves." "Imperial?" Jaina echoed, confused. It

had been almost thirty years since the Imperial  presence  had  been  repelled

from Bakura.

"Not the Empire," Malinza explained. "The thing that took its place:  the

New Republic. Don't you know that nature abhors a vacuum? Especially  a  power

vacuum.

No sooner had we won our freedom than  we  held  out  our  wrists  to  be

shackled again. We offered ourselves up to the New Republic like pets  begging

for a scrap of affection. And that's all we got, too: scraps." Jaina winced at

the description of the government her parents had helped create.

"Of course, you don't call it the New Republic anymore, do you? It's been

given a new name ever since it lost its war against the Yuuzhan Vong." Malinza

snorted derisively. "No one wants to be associated with losers, do they?

Therefore, your only hope of fighting back was to pretend to be something

else.

But cratsch droppings by any other name still stink,  don't  you  think?"

She shook her head and looked away. " If you do beat the Yuuzhan Vong,  you'll

just chain everyone up like before. And if you lose, you'll drag everyone else

down with you." "It's not like that." "No? You'll probably tell me that  we'll

all die unless we band together to defeat the common enemy. But there's always

a common enemy, Jaina. Oppressive regimes don't  function  without  them.  The

Empire had its Rebel Alliance; once, we had the Ssi-ruuk; and right  now,  you

have the Yuuzhan Vong. Who will it be next time you feel the cracks spreading?

" "I'll be happy just to reach the next  time,"  Jaina  said.  "But  tell  me,

Malinza, what would happen if we did lose this war? What would you do  if  the

Yuuzhan Vong turned up on your doorstep and we weren't there to help you, like

we did with the Ssi-ruuk?" "We'd fight them, of course," the girl said simply.

"And yes, we would probably all die in  the  process.  But  it  would  be  our

decision, not one made by some faceless bureaucrat on the other  side  of  the

galaxy." "Is that really the issue, Malinza? Does it really boil down  to  who

controls you? Or who makes the decisions for you?" " Of course  it  does!"  "I

don't recall the New Republic ever demanding  anything  of  Bakura.  You  were

always asked." "And we always said yes. I know that. That galls me  more  than

you could possibly understand.  While  we  abased  ourselves  before  the  New

Republic, it was happy in return to steal our defense  fleet,  our  families-"

Malinza stopped there, leaning back heavily against the wall with a  troubled,

weary sigh. Jaina was relieved to see  tears  in  the  girl's  eyes.  She  had

already guessed what lay  at  the  heart  of  Malinza's  dislike  of  the  New

Republic, no matter how she dressed  it  up  in  rhetoric.  Behind  her  stoic

defiance, she was still just a fifteen-year-old girl. One pushed into  defying

a government she regarded as being  oppressive,  forced  to  learn  skills  no

teenager should have had to know-but still only fifteen. That  she  had  risen

above that disadvantage spoke volumes about her ability and her determination.

She had taken the example of her adopted uncle to heart, it seemed.

Jaina herself hadn't been much older when the war with the  Yuuzhan  Vong

had broken out. People were capable of extraordinary things when circumstances

demanded it, she reflected.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Malinza," Jaina said, putting a hand on the

girl's shoulder. It wasn't pushed away. "I  met  her  briefly  at  Centerpoint

before she died, but I was just a kid then. I know Uncle Luke held her in very

high regard." "I barely remember her," Malinza said, trying to  be  casual  as

she knuckled away the tears she was fighting. "I recall her  leaving,  and  my

aunt trying to explain what had happened when she didn't come back, but I  was

only four years old, and I never really understood. I just knew who had  taken

her from us. The New Republic dragged her into a war she wasn't part  of,  and

she gave her life to save others. She did a very good thing,  and  I  suffered

because of it." She shrugged helplessly. "I guess the uni -  verse  found  its

balance, as it always does. It's just that in  this  instance  I  was  on  the

receiving end, that's all."  "Balance?"  asked  Jaina.  "What  do  you  mean?"

"Cosmic Balance. The wheel of fate, you know?" She shifted her position on the

bunk so she was facing Jaina fully. "Every action causes a reaction.  A  great

force for good can't exist without there also being a  counterbalancing  force

for evil, somewhere. In the same way, good works  lead  to  evil  results  for

someone else, quite unintentionally. It's just how the  universe  works,  *and

the Force, too. Save someone on Bakura today and you might kill another later.

That's why I don't want this Alliance of yours here.  It's  too  dangerous.  I

have no desire to see my home get caught in friendly fire." "So  you  want  no

part in the Galactic Alliance and the war against the Yuuzhan  Vong.  Is  that

what you're saying?" "Don't get me wrong, Jaina. I have nothing against  Uncle

Luke. Apart from Aunt Laera, who raised me  after  Mom  died,  he's  the  only

family I have left. Dad died not long after I was born, so I never got to know

him. If I should side with anyone, it would be you. It's only my fear  of  the

backlash from the Balance that stops me." "So how  does  kidnapping  Cundertol

help you, then? He's all for an alliance with the P'w'eck. They'd make  viable

alternatives to the Galactic Alliance  and  give  you  a  fighting  chance  of

defending Bakura against a Yuuzhan Vong attack." "Exactly!" she said.  "That's

why it makes no sense for me to have kidnapped Cundertol in the first  place."

"But you could have ordered it-" "No," Malinza cut in firmly. "I didn't.  Just

because I'm young doesn't make me automatically  stupid!"  "I'm  not  saying-"

"Maybe not, but you're still listening to what they're telling you-and they're

telling you that I'm stupid." A humorless laugh broke her somber  mood.  "Then

again, to have attempted a stunt like that, perhaps  they're  right."  "You're

not stupid, Malinza," Jaina tried to reassure her, but the girl didn't seem to

hear.

"I keep trying to explain that the goal of Freedom is simply to kick  the

New Republic off Bakura. We don't use violence, and we certainly don't  kidnap

people. Call us idealistic if you want, but we do have  principles.  The  last

thing we want to see is the old regime replaced  with  one  equally  as  bad."

Jaina's mind boggled at the thought of sixteen people attempting to take on  a

galactic civilization. It smacked of either madness or incredible bravery.

"How did you ever hope  to  succeed?"  "Ah,  well,  there's  the  thing,"

Malinza answered with a half smile. "You see, we had some funding from private

sources, and with that money we were able to dig deep into the infrastructure,

looking for things that might assist us: evidence  of  corruption,  brutality,

nepotism, and so on. You'd be surprised what we turned  up."  Jaina  seriously

doubted that; she'd heard plenty about dodgy politicians over the  years  from

her mother. "Who funded you?" "They would consider that  private,  I'm  sure,"

Malinza said firmly. "Especially where you  are  concerned."  Jaina  respected

Malinza's reticence on the  matter,  but  quietly  suspected  that  the  Peace

Brigade might  have  been  involved  at  some  point  in  the  past.  Such  an

underground organization would be just the thing for stirring up dissent. "You

say you're not into violence, Malinza, but what about the  others?"  "None  of

the sixteen core members of Freedom was into violence. It  wasn't  our  style.

But..." "But?" "Well, there were others who joined us," she said.

"And it's possible that they might have had violent intentions. In  fact,

with some of them I'd have to say that violence was high on their agenda.  But

we didn't encourage them to stay." "So  who  else  would  join?"  "All  sorts,

really. Not all of Freedom's actions were covert; we had  a  recruiting  front

and our policies were well known. This is a democracy, right?

Or it's supposed to be.  Some  of  our  members  were  bored  with  their

everyday lives and were looking for  excitement.  Sometimes  we'd  get  people

coming over from similar underground movements." She shrugged. "Ever since the

P'w'eck arrived, we've attracted all sorts of  malcontents."  "Why  is  that?"

"Well, for one thing, my involvement in Freedom was never a secret, and I have

some sort of profile with the media because my mother was once prime minister.

We've had cranks trying to come along for the ride since we started,  but

they've always been easy to weed out. Until recently, anyway." She looked down

at her lap. "It was getting hard to control, to be  honest.  The  anti-P'w'eck

movement made it clear that if we weren't with  them,  then  we  were  against

them. As I said, I'm not a xenophobe; I think the  P'w'eck  could  be  a  good

thing for Bakura.

I don't want to be  against  anyone,  really,  because  that  makes  them

against me.

The Balance kicks back just as hard as we lash out. And trust me, I  have

no desire to get kicked again." "I think I'm  starting  to  understand  that,"

Jaina said. And she was. She didn't necessarily believe everything Malinza had

said, but she also didn't  believe  that  the  girl  was  the  sort  to  order

kidnappings and murders to further her cause. "So  why  do  you  really  think

you're in here, then?" she added.

'We were too good at what we did," Malinza said. "We were making too many

inroads. We'd uncovered some dirt on a  few  Senators  and  threatened  to  go

public with the information." "Blackmail?" "Is it blackmail if  you're  acting

in the public's  best  interests?"  Malinza  shrugged.  "Whatever.  They  were

getting nervous, but they couldn't put us away without  whipping  up  an  even

bigger storm. We hadn't done anything really wrong, you  see.  It  would  have

been difficult for them to incarcerate us for very long, because once we  made

their secrets known then public sympathy would have been on our  side.  So  we

reached a kind of impasse, I guess. It was only a matter of waiting to see who

snapped first." "During which time you kept digging for more dirt, I presume,"

Jaina said.

"Which means that if they don't genuinely think you kidnapped  Cundertol,

then you must have uncovered something new that they  very  much  wanted  kept

quiet." "If we did, then I honestly have  no  idea  what  it  could've  been."

Malinza shook her head again. "We were tracing some financial deal  that  went

through just after the P'w'eck arrived. An awful lot of money went  off-world,

but we couldn't work out who was behind it or where it was  going.  It  looked

like some sort of commercial transaction, and may well have  been  just  that.

The fact that the endpoints had been obscured made us wonder." She  looked  at

Jaina, eyes narrowed slightly. "Your Galactic Alliance isn't looking for money

now, is it?" "No. Not from Bakura, anyway." Taking  money  from  Bakura  would

have been like taking small change from a child in order to finance a starship

purchase. "It could have been legit, as you say." Malinza  nodded,  taking  in

the confines of the cell with one sweeping gesture.

"Nevertheless, here I am." She paused, fixing Jaina with a  sober  stare.

"I'm not responsible for Cundertol's kidnapping, I swear. But that's not going

to stop the people behind this. They never let the truth get  in  the  way  of

what they want." "If you didn't do it, they won't be able to make the  charges

stick." Malinza laughed. " You're assuming I'm going to get a fair trial." She

shook her head. "There's bound to be  circumstantial  evidence."  Perhaps  the

young woman was right, Jaina thought, recalling Blaine Harris's certainty over

Malinza's guilt on announcing the news of her  capture.  On  the  other  hand,

though, there was also Cundertol's reaction on hearing the news  to  consider.

Clearly, he hadn't been as convinced as Harris had.

"The Prime Minister's testimony will count for something,"  she  said  by

way of reassuring Malinza. "He was there, after all. If he  doesn't  think  it

was you, then I doubt they'd ever be able to convict." "Maybe,"  Malinza  said

faintly. Some of the fire had gone out of her; she looked more than ever  like

a lonely, frightened teenager caught out of her depth. "I just  have  to  have

faith in the Balance. If a wrong is done to me now, then some good  will  come

of it another day. That's some comfort, at least." A very  lonely  one,  Jaina

thought. But then, perhaps Malinza's belief in the Balance was no less  lonely

than Jaina's own faith in the Force.

She stood, glancing at her chronometer. It was well  past  midnight,  and

her parents would be starting to get worried. "I  should  go  now."  "But  you

haven't told me why you're here yet," Malinza protested.

"I'm just doing my job," Jaina said with a smile. "You know what Jedi are

like: we're always getting in the way." "As well as always getting their way."

The smile was halfheartedly returned. Then it was lost altogether. "I have  to

admit I would be glad to be out of here." Jaina nodded sympathetically.  "I'll

see what I can do about that." She palmed the  green  CALL  button  and  faced

Malinza one last time. "Maybe we can apply some pressure to get  your  hearing

processed more quickly and-" She broke off. The door had opened onto an  empty

corridor.

"That's strange," she muttered. Malinza peered past her. "What is?"  "The

guards said they'd escort me out of here." Jaina stepped cautiously out of the

cell, every nerve screaming trap. "But there's no one. Not even so much  as  a

droid." Malinza joined her outside the cell. Jaina could tell from the  girl's

expression that she was as surprised as Jaina that no sirens sounded when  she

did this. Surprise soon became excitement, though. "It's Vyram!" she said. "It

has to be!" "Who?" "He's one of Freedom's core  members,"  Malinza  said.  "In

fact, he's what you'd call the brains behind the group. If anyone could  slice

into the system and get me out of here, it  would  be  him."  "I  don't  know,

Malinza," Jaina said, glancing around uneasily. "This doesn't  feel  right  to

me." "That's easy for you to say. You get to walk out of here no  matter  what

happens." Malinza straightened until they were almost eye to eye.  "I'm  going

for it." Jaina grabbed her sleeve as she went up the corridor.  "Wait!  That's

the wrong direction." She was unable to shake her suspicions;  something  told

her that what she was  about  to  do  was  what  someone  wanted  her  to  do.

Nevertheless, her options were limited. "At least let me show  you  the  way."

Malinza's grin was both appreciative and mischievous. "I thought  you'd  never

offer," she said.

Tahiri moved through the canyon, tired and weary,  every  muscle  in  her

body aching terribly. It felt as though she'd been running  for  years.  Fifty

meters away on either side of her were mighty, craggy  walls  curving  up  and

around her, making her feel as though she were walking in  the  palm  of  some

impossibly immense fist. She paused for a moment to look up, and saw the stars

twinkling overhead. No, not stars! These glistening specks were too close  for

that. They were no more stars than the blackness that held them was the  night

sky.

A sudden howl and a cry  reminded  her  that  her  pursuers  weren't  far

behind.

Across the vast and empty plain she could make out  nothing  but  varying

degrees of darkness; there was no sign of the  thing  with  her  face  or  the

lizard creature. But they were out there somewhere; she knew  that  without  a

doubt. And if she ever stopped moving, stopped running, then they would  catch

up with her and-She pushed the thought down,  turning  back  to  the  task  of

continuing through the darkness in search of the light. However, where moments

before there'd been nothing but barren ground, now trees  crowded  around  her

from every side. For a moment she felt strangely comforted by this,  believing

that nothing could possibly find her amid such a tangle  of  branches,  limbs,

and trunks. But this comfort was short-lived. Her pursuers didn't need to  see

it, she realized; they could smell her. That's how they'd been able to  follow

her all this time-and how they would continue to follow her until she  finally

relented and surrendered to their hunger.

The howl of the lizard beast rang out through the  spindly  foliage,  its

cry carried on a wind that rustled the daggerlike leaves hanging down from the

trees around her. She moved faster, wincing as each leaf she brushed aside cut

into her arms and hands.

The bitter forest gave way to a rock face  that  rose  sharply  into  the

dark. For a moment, she panicked that she had nowhere left to  run,  but  then

off to her right she noticed a small crevice in the rock.

"Tahiri..." The voice came as a whisper on  the  breeze.  It  seemed  far

away, but not so far off that she could afford to relax.

Sucking in her stomach and bringing her arms in close to  her  side,  she

managed to make herself small enough to be able to squeeze'through the  narrow

opening, the mildew covering the rocks expediting her movement. She closed her

eyes, forcing out the disquieting thought of being swallowed as  she  wriggled

between stone. Better that, she thought, than face what was following her.

The narrow crack widened around her. It had brought her safely out on the

far side. She opened her eyes and her heart sank at what  she  saw:  the  path

ahead was narrow and straight and lined with trees filled with ysalamiri.  She

climbed out of the crack and stood trembling for the longest time, too  scared

to move or even breathe. But her fear  came  not  from  the  idea  of  passing

between the trees, but rather from what she thought she could make out in  the

distance beyond them: a dark, reptilian figure, silhouetted against the sky.

"Tahiri..." Crying out in fright, she spun around to see the  thing  with

her face glaring through the crevice in the mossy rock. Its arm  was  reaching

out to her; its bloodied fingers clawed for a touch of her sweat-soaked skin.

" You can't leave me here, Tahiri..." Tahiri woke with a half-formed  cry

on her lips. Her hand was halfway to her lightsaber before she realized  where

she was: Bakura. She sighed in relief. It wasn't the worldship orbiting Myrkr.

She was safe.

Safe? Was she really safe?

She groped in the darkness for the light  panel,  relaxing  as  a  yellow

ambience filled the room. The bed rocked beneath her as she sat up  and  swung

her legs over the edge. Almost everything on Bakura floated;  wherever  repul-

sors could possibly be included, they were-lifting chairs, counters  of  food,

almost everything, it seemed.

As unsettling as it was to have things floating  around  her,  it  wasn't

this that troubled her most right now. Neither was it the tension  suffocating

her like a thick fog. No, the discomfort she felt now was like a  tingling  at

the back of her mind-a suspicion that those  around  her,  the  "family"  that

Jacen had assured her she was a part of back on Mon Calamari, were  conspiring

against her.

Jaina had talked to her mother before going off to find Malinza. Leia had

gone into Jaina's room to stir her daughter from  a  Jedi  trance  and  hadn't

emerged for some time. When she had, she had carried in her eyes a stare  that

was both wary and distant.  Leia  was  seeing  something  that  troubled  her-

something in Tahiri.

Tahiri felt it keenly, like ice water trickling down her spine. No matter

how she tried to ignore it, the feeling simply wouldn't go away.

Feeling like she was still dreaming, she stood up and crossed the room to

the doorway. Opening it, she crept  into  the  hallway  linking  their  rooms.

Unlike on Galantos where they had five rooms all opening onto a central common

area, on Bakura they occupied rooms designed as though in  a  hotel.  Han  and

Leia's was the largest, with an adjoining area that could be used as a  common

room. Tahiri and Jaina were up the hall, adjacent but not connecting.

Tahiri stopped outside Jaina's room, pressing her ear against the door to

listen. There was no sound whatsoever; Jaina must still be out on her mission,

even though it was well past midnight. A distant  concern  for  Jaina's  well-

being penetrated the fog. But not for long. Jaina was  one  of  the  ones  who

suspected her, who constantly watched her for any sign of-What?  What  was  it

Jaina searched for when she looked at Tahiri? The truth, perhaps, of  who  she

really was?

The thought hit her like a blow from behind. No! She performed  a  mental

forward somersault, rolling with the punch and coming up fighting. That's  not

who I am! In her mind, she slashed at the thought with her lightsaber, cutting

the notion to ribbons. You can't make me be someone I'm not!

Then the terrible moment of clarity faded and the  fog  fell  around  her

once again. She embraced the  vague  dream  state,  letting  it  dissolve  her

concerns and reduce her anxieties to just one. She could still feel it tugging

at her, as though a hook had pierced her soul and  some  dreadful  angler  was

reeling her in.

It had to stop. She didn't know how much more  of  this  she  could  take

before she snapped-or something altogether worse happened.

She moved from Jaina's door, silently walking the short distance  to  Han

and Leia's room. There she repeated the same process, pressing her ear against

the door to listen for any movements. She couldn't hear anything.

Keying the access code into the lock, Tahiri  eased  open  the  door.  It

surprised her that Leia's Noghri bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.  But  she

didn't have time to dwell on it. The fact was, they wouldn't be too far  away,

and if they returned now they'd be sure to question her late-night  activities

in the Princess's room...

From the darkness inside,  C-3PO's  glowing  photo-receptor  eyes  turned

toward her.

She raised a finger to her lips. "Not a word, Threepio,"  she  whispered.

"I just need to get something from  the  other  room,  okay?"  "As  you  wish,

Mistress Tahiri," the droid replied, making no effort  to  speak  in  a  voice

lower than he normally would. "But shouldn't you-" "Shhh," she insisted with a

hiss. "I promise not to be long." C-3PO nodded uncertainly  in  the  gloom  as

Tahiri continued through to Han and Leia's bedroom. They were asleep when  she

entered, their restful breathing the only sound. She stood  there  motionless,

extending herself into the shadows, feeling for the thing that called to  her.

And there it was; she could feel it, pulling her ever closer...

I must destroy the evidence, she breathed to herself. Destroy it, and the

problem will go away.

Using the Force to guide her through the darkened bedroom, she  made  her

way to a small table containing a bowl of flowers and a glass of water.  There

was something else there, too-something that the Force couldn't reveal to her.

Now that she was closer she could see it, the small object caught  in  a  fine

sliver of moonlight from the open window. And just as on Galantos  when  she'd

first found it, every one of her physical senses was tingling from the  echoes

emanating from the small pendant.

She reached out with her hand to pick up the silver totem molded into the

likeness of Yun-Yammka, the slayer. At the very moment her fingers touched it,

a hand reached out of the blackness to grab her wrist, and a voice called  out

her name in a language that disgusted her.

If the voice said anything else, she never heard it, as darkness suddenly

swirled around her and swallowed her senses.

"Here we are," said the librarian, a thin, shorthaired woman  whose  name

was Tris. She had brought them to two broad, solid  doors  deep  in  a  secure

installation buried Jeep under the ice in an  isolated  sector  of  the  Chiss

homeworld. Soontir Fel had ferried them there on the back of  a  large,  black

ice barge, an armored craft that used powerful repulsors to sweep  across  the

icy planetary crust.  It  was  big  enough  to  hold  fifty  people,  but  the

passengers had consisted solely of Luke and his entourage,  Commander  Irolia,

Chief Navigator Peita Aabe, and Fel himself.  There  appeared  to  be  neither

pilots nor any security staff, so either they were keeping  carefully  out  of

sight or Fel had supreme faith in automatics.

Upon arrival, they had been introduced to their guide from  the  Inrokini

family, who had whisked them deep underground via a turbolift that  seemed  to

take forever, while Pel and the others went off on official business.

"We're here at last?" Jacen asked. Like the others, he was restless  from

the long journey and keen to get started on the search for Zonama Sekot.

Their guide nodded and pushed open  the  doors  with  a  dramatic  sweep.

"Welcome to the Expeditionary Library. You are among the very few non-Chiss to

step through these doors." She waved  them  through.  Jacen  and  the  others,

mindful of the honor, moved respectfully forward into the  giant  chamber.  It

took him a second to grasp the scale. Vast and rectangular, with lines sharply

defined, the library space was as large as a  docking  bay.  There  were  four

levels of walkways surrounding the walls, with  steep  stairwells  leading  to

each, and endless rows of rectangular dividers subdividing the  floor.  Yellow

lights hung suspended from the ceiling on long cables,  casting  a  warm  glow

across the space. The air was still, warm, and fresh. A  deep  silence  filled

the space, as though the enormous volume of air was soaking up every sound.

"Nice," Mara said, her long red hair waving as she turned to look  around

her.

"We'll have lots of  elbow  room,  at  least.  If  you  show  us  to  the

holoscreens, we'll get started." Tris  frowned.  "Holoscreens?  There  are  no

holoscreens here." "Then how do we get at the  data?"  "I'll  show  you."  The

librarian led them across the floor of the giant chamber, along a path between

two long shelves. Jacen idly studied the contents of the shelves as he walked,

wondering what they were. They  looked  like  bricks  of  some  kind,  and  he

wondered if they were some  sort  of  data  storage  device.  A  high-security

installation such as this one would, he assumed, have a  highly  sophisticated

means of keeping its data safe. Perhaps the bricks had to be fed by hand  into

some kind of reader, which would then display its contents. Each of the memory

bricks could hold vast amounts of data, safely sealed away.

Tris turned right at the end of the shelves and took them down to another

aisle. "Here are the exploration notes for the world you visited last, Munlali

Mafir, translated into Basic for permanent record." She reached up to the  cop

shelf and selected  one  of  the  bricks.  "Everything  here  is  meticulously

cataloged. It may take you a while to get the hang of our  system,  but  I  am

here to assist you in that task." She handed the brick to Mara, who hefted  it

uncertainly, then gave it to Jacen. It was heavier than he had  expected,  and

there were no obvious jack-in ports. The front and back were made of the  same

material as one side of the thing-a deep red material, with  gold  writing  in

Basic. The other three sides were curiously rough and soft.

Seeing his puzzlement, Tris took it back from him and opened it. The  top

folded back like the lid of a box, only the interior wasn't empty. It was full

all the way through. Full of text.

Only then did Jacen understand. He felt like an idiot fo'.1  not  getting

it sooner. But judging by the gasp of surprise from Danni, he knew  he  wasn't

the only one.

Not a brick. The object in Tris's hand was a book.

"You're kidding," Mara said, her eyebrows rising.

It was Tris's turn  to  look  puzzled.  "The  Chiss  have  always  stored

sensitive information in this fashion. It is safe, secure, and  permanent.  We

have lost too much data in ice storms to trust other, more  complicated  forms

of storage." "But how are we going to find anything?" Danni asked.  "We  can't

do keyword searches through... this!" "There are ways to search, and I am here

to assist you." Tris seemed serenely confident, but Jacen's mind balked at the

thought of poring through the millions - maybe billions-of pages contained  on

the shelves around them. The library was full of mission reports,  xenobiology

tracts,  anthropological  assays,  and  contact  histories  from   the   Chiss

Expeditionary Defense Fleet's exploration  of  the  Unknown  Regions-and  that

exploration had been ongoing for centuries.

How hard can this be? he told himself. If I can fly  an  X-wing  with  my

eyes shut, then surely I can leaf through a few books!

Something similar must have been going through Saba's mind. "We  wish  to

search for referencez to Zonama Sekot," the saurian Jedi Knight said.  "Pleaze

assist us in that." "Of course." The librarian put the book back in its proper

place and walked briskly  through  the  aisles,  humming  softly  to  herself.

"Follow me." Luke exchanged glances with Jacen and Mara, then followed.

It was a huge pit: easily thirty  meters  deep  and  almost  a  kilometer

across.

Mighty columns stretched up into the sky, reaching for  the  planet  that

hung in the blackness like an overripe fruit about to fall. Around her on  the

ground were a number  of  ships,  some  secured  in  their  birthing  bays  by

restraining carapaces, others just lying on the ground in  various  stages  of

disrepair and decay.

She knew the place to be an old spaceport-one that was both  comfortingly

familiar and disconcertingly alien. She  wanted  to  climb  into  one  of  the

derelict spaceships and fly off to the planet up above-for she knew that here,

at least, she might be safe-but the dilapidated condition of  the  ships  told

her that this simply wasn't an option. The spaceport and  all  its  craft  had

lain unused for many years. It was abandoned, just like the world beneath  her

feet-as abandoned as she felt herself to be.

Someone was standing behind her. She turned, startled, and found  herself

staring at a distant reflection of herself. Only it wasn't her  at  all.  This

person had scars across her forehead. Reaching up,  she  realized  she  didn't

carry any such scars. The only scars she carried were the ones  on  her  arms,

and they felt completely different. Her reflection's scars stood  out  boldly,

proudly, and had been carved into the flesh with purpose. Hers, on  the  other

hand, were a product of anger and an intense desire to remove something  she'd

thought she had seen lurking beneath her skin...

"There's nowhere left to run," the ghostly reflection said.

In the distance came the howl of the lizard beast.

"Not for you, either," she pointed out.

Despite obvious effort to hide it, there was fear behind the reflection's

gaze.

"Why do you want to hurt me?" she asked it.

"Because you want to hurt me." "I want to be left alone! I want  only  to

be free!" "As do I." "But  I  belong  here!"  The  reflection  surveyed  their

surroundings, then faced her again, "As  do  I."  The  howl  of  the  creature

sounded again, louder this time, and closer.

"It can smell us," the reflection said. "It can smell my fear, and it can

smell your guilt." "I have nothing to feel guilty for." "No,  you  don't.  And

yet there it is, nonetheless." She looked into  herself,  then,  and  saw  the

guilt of which the reflection spoke. It had always been there, she  knew;  she

just hadn't wanted to see it. But now the amorphous and neglected emotion took

shape, forming into words that rose in her thoughts, in  her  throat,  finally

demanding release: Why am I alive when the one I love is dead?

And with this came a deafening roar from the lizard creature.  It  was  a

roar of anger, of remorse, and of regret; it was a bellow  whose  echo  called

back to her out of the dark over and over again, fading  each  time  until  it

became little more than a far-off whisper, a distant speck in the dark...

Tahiri... Tahiri...

"Tahiri?" The hand shaking her shoulder did more to dispel the dream than

the sound of her own name  being  spoken.  She  blinked,  then  looked  around

vaguely at her surroundings. The walls so close around  her  seemed  small  in

comparison to the dreamscape she'd just left-so much more restricting.

"Come on, kid-snap out of it." Han's voice was rough and hard,  like  the

hands shaking her. She looked at him through tear-stained  eyes  and  saw  his

worried and  fatigued  expression.  Leia  stepped  between  them,  her  gentle

features smiling reassuringly at Tahiri.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm awake," the girl mumbled hazily. Then, realizing she hadn't answered

the question, she nodded and added: "I think I'm  all  right."  Her  head  was

pounding, and the harsh light felt like a naked sun burning into her eyes. She

winced, blinking back more tears as she tried to sit  up.  She  felt  strange,

confused-and this confusion was only magnified when she  saw  where  she  was:

lying on the bed in Han and Leia's suite.

"What happened?" she asked. Even as she spoke the  words,  she  knew  the

answer: the same thing thai happened before, on Galantos  and  elsewhere.  The

illusion of ignorance was her only defense. "What am I doing here?" "You don't

remember?" Leia asked.

Both of Anakin's parents were standing over her, dressed in  their  night

robes.

"I-" she started. How could she tell them  the  truth  when  she  herself

wasn't even sure what it was? "I was looking for something." Leia held out the

silver pendant. Its many-tentacled, snarling visage seemed to  mock  her  from

its cradle of soft, human flesh. "You were looking  for  this,  weren't  you?"

Tahiri nodded, embarrassed. "It-it calls to  me.  It  reminds  me  of..."  She

trailed off, unable to put what she was feeling into words.

"Of who you are?" Leia suggested.

The words seemed to stab a sharp pain in her mind, to which she responded

with anger. "I know who I am! I'm Tahiri Veila!" Leia crouched down beside the

bed to look up into the girl's face. Tahiri didn't want to meet her eyes,  but

the Princess was hard to resist. "Are you?" she  asked  in  a  low,  searching

tone. "You don't seem like the Tahiri I once  knew."  "What  are  you  talking

about, Leia?" Han said, looking  equal  parts  exasperated  and  tired.  "What

exactly is going on here?" "Sometimes I think we forget what happened  to  her

on Yavin Four, Han." Leia kept her warm, reassuring  eyes  on  Tahiri  as  she

spoke. Then she stood and addressed her husband fully. "The Yuuzhan  Vong  did

something terrible to her while she was in their hands—something we can't even

begin to understand. They tried to turn her into something other  than  human.

You don't just get over that easily. It takes time." "But I  thought  she  was

given the okay. Wasn't that why she was invited to join us on  this  mission?"

The two kept talking, but Tahiri had stopped listening. Although  he  probably

didn't mean it, there was a suggestion of mistrust in  Han's  words  that  was

hurtful to her, and for a brief moment she felt overwhelmed by  grief—a  grief

that was exacerbated by the way Anakin's parents kept talking about her in the

third person, as if she weren't even there. It made her feel strangely removed

from what was taking place around her...

"I wasn't asleep," Leia was saying to Han in response to  something  he'd

said. "Jaina told me what Jag found on Galantos; I  was  expecting  Tahiri  to

come for it. That's why I instructed Cakhmain  and  Meewalh  to  stay  out  of

sight—to let Tahiri come for the pendant." As she said this, Leia gestured off

to one side, and for the first time,  Tahiri  noticed  the  Princess's  Noghri

guards standing there.

Han sighed. "I still would have preferred it if you'd told  me  what  was

going on." "There was no need, Han. I wanted to see what  would  happen."  "So

what's causing this?" he asked. "You think it might be Anakin?" Leia shook her

head. "It's more than that; much more.

She's hiding something—from  herself  as  well  as  everyone  else."  The

accusation stabbed at Tahiri's heart, making her jump to her  feet.  "How  can

you say that?" she cried, taking a step forward. But a single step was all she

managed before Cakhmain moved to stop her, taking Tahiri by the  shoulders  to

hold her back from Leia. She wriggled in his slender hands but couldn't  break

free. "I would never hurt either of you!  You're—"  She  stopped,  remembering

Jacen's note back on Mon Calamari. "You're my family."  Han  stepped  over  to

her, then, taking her hands. "Hey, take it easy, kid." He wiped at  the  fresh

tears on her cheek with the back of  his  hand.  "No  one's  accusing  you  of

anything, Tahiri. Just relax, okay?" She did so, feeling oddly calmed  by  the

large man's rough but friendly voice. She saw Leia motion to her Noghri guard,

who immediately released Tahiri and retreated to the shadows.

Leia came forward. "I'm sorry, Tahiri.  I  didn't  mean  to  upset  you."

Tahiri didn't know what to say—she felt foolish and ashamed at her outburst—so

in the end just nodded her acceptance  of  the  Princess's  apology  and  said

nothing.

"Tell me, though, Tahiri," Leia said. "Do you have any idea  what's  been

going on in your head these last couple of years?" "I-I—sometimes I black out,

" Tahiri stammered awkwardly. "I have these... dreams that—"  "That  tell  you

you're somebody else?" Leia offered.

This brought her up defensive again. "My name is Tahiri Veila! That's who

I am!" Leia took Tahiri's shoulders in her hands and looked the  girl  in  the

face with her penetrating brown eyes. "I know this isn't easy, Tahiri. But you

must try to understand. I want you to think back to just  before  you  blacked

out. Do you remember what I said to you?"  Tahiri  thought  about  this.  "You

called my name." Leia looked over to Han.

"What?" Tahiri said, angered by the  almost  conspiratorial  looks  being

exchanged between them.  "You  did  call  my  name!  I  heard  you!"  Sympathy

shimmered in Leia's eyes. "I didn't call you by your name,  Tahiri.  I  called

you Riina." A feeling as cold as ice spread across Tahiri's shoulders and  ran

down her back in a horrible,  clammy  rush.  At  the  same  time,  a  terrible

blackness rose up in her mind, threatening to engulf her. "No,"  she  mumbled,

shaking her head slowly and fighting the feeling. "That's not  true."  "It  is

true, Tahiri. Before, when you blacked out, you were shouting at me in Yuuzhan

Vong. You were calling me something that not even Threepio  could  understand.

You weren't Tahiri, then." She paused  uncomfortably  before  pronouncing  the

terrible truth. "You were Riina of Domain Kwaad, the personality  that  Mezhan

Kwaad tried to turn you into. Somehow, the Riina personality is  still  inside

you." Tahiri shook her head again, more vigorously this time, wanting to  deny

the spreading darkness as much as the words themselves. "It—it can't be  true.

It just can't be!" "It is, Tahiri," Leia said. "Believe me. And the sooner you

accept that, the sooner we can start doing—" "No!" Tahiri screamed in a  pitch

that surprised herself as much as it obviously did Leia, who took a step  back

at the outburst.

As though a dam had burst, she was suddenly  in  motion.  With  the  full

strength of the Force flowing through her, fueled by her desperation  and  her

need to escape, she snatched the pendant as she pushed past Leia and  Han  and

headed for the door—too quick  for  even  Cakhmain  to  grab  her.  C-3PO  was

standing on the other side of the door when she went through, but  she  didn't

even give him time to utter a single word of objection; she  just  shoved  him

aside as hard as she could, throwing the golden droid clean off his  feet  and

into the wall. Then she was through the door and out of the suite, running  as

if her very life depended on it.

She saw nothing but corridors flashing by, and could feel nothing but the

cool pendant of Yun-Yammka against her palm, grinning in vile satisfaction.

And somewhere beyond the sound of her own sobbing, she could hear a  name

being called. That she couldn't be sure the name even belonged to her made her

cry that much harder, and run that much faster.

Jag listened intently as Han and Leia detailed the incident  with  Tahiri

over the secure subspace channel. The two sounded exhausted, which was  hardly

surprising given what they'd just been through—and the fact that it was  still

the middle of the night where they were probably wasn't helping, either.

"She didn't hurt anyone, did she?" Jag asked.

"No," Leia said. "And I don't believe  she  would  have,  either."  "What

about the Riina personality?" There was some hesitation from  the  other  end.

"We're more concerned about what she'll do to herself than what she  might  do

to others," Leia said firmly.

"So where is she now?" "She ran off," Leia said.

"And we haven't heard from her since," Han put in wearily. "Poor kid  was

in quite a state when she left." Jag acknowledged his frustration at being too

far away to be of any direct help with a sigh. "Have you notified security  on

the ground?" "And tell them what?" Han asked. "That there's a lone Jedi on the

loose who's possibly under the control of a Yuuzhan Vong mind? That'll  really

go down well with the authorities." "They'd probably lock the lot of  us  up,"

Leia said. "Anyway, it's not an option. But she  does  need  to  be  found—and

soon. I don't like the idea of her being alone while she's trying to deal with

this. She needs our help right  now."  Jag  shook  his  head.  "I  just  don't

understand how this could have happened. From what I understood, she was  over

her experiences on Yavin Four." "So we  all  thought,"  Leia  said.  "But  her

conditioning went deep. She could speak the  Yuuzhan  Vong  language  and  fly

their ships; and there were moments when Anakin himself said  that  she  acted

strangely. But outwardly she seemed okay; she appeared to be  holding  herself

together." "But then Anakin died," Han  said,  "and  that  must  have  changed

everything." Jag could hear the echoes of the  still-painful  grief  in  Han's

words. He seemed to steel himself against the emotion as he carried  on  with:

"And if this Riina personality is still with the  kid,  then  we  have  to  do

something about it." Jag agreed, but he knew  it  wasn't  going  to  be  easy.

Tahiri could have been anywhere by now, and if she was as panicked as Han  and

Leia said she was, then she probably wasn't going to want to  be  found  in  a

hurry. While Leia was probably right in  that  Tahiri  wouldn't  hurt  anyone,

Tahiri might see things differently. Without any control over when  the  Riina

personality emerges, she may see herself as being a threat to her friends  and

want to keep away for fear of causing them any harm...

"What bothers me, though, Jag," Leia went on,  "is  that  you  and  Jaina

suspected something was  wrong  and  yet  you  kept  it  to  yourselves."  Jag

swallowed, wishing it were Jaina, not him, fielding the question.

Leia had every right to be upset, of course. After he had shown Jaina the

pendant that Tahiri had found back on Galantos, the two of them had  discussed

what they should do about the young girl. Clearly she was  finely  attuned  to

anything Yuuzhan Vong; and just as clearly there were moments when  the  alien

personality rose up and tried to take over. However, the girl  was  a  trained

Jedi, and they felt she should be given the chance to solve the problem on her

own. It had never been their intention to keep Han and Leia out  of  the  loop

indefinitely, and neither had imagined that anything could go wrong as long as

one of them was close at hand to keep an eye on her.

"I'm sorry," he said shortly. "But we really didn't expect anything  like

this to happen." "Well, it did," Han said. "And if Leia hadn't suspected  that

something was up, things could have  gotten  quite  ugly  down  here."  "Well,

again, I'm sorry," Jag said. "Where is Jaina? She was supposed to  be  looking

out for Tahiri while you were all down on Bakura." "Jaina hasn't returned  yet

from interviewing Malinza Thanas," Leia replied. If there was any concern  for

her daughter, the Princess was hiding it well.

"She still hasn't reported in?" Jag had been apprised of Jaina's  mission

when he'd first come on duty. "But it's hours past midnight  down  there.  She

should have been back by now." "We know, "Han said.

Jag felt his fists clench at this news. He wished again that he were down

on the surface where he could do more good. "Maybe I should ask  Captain  Mayn

to send a shuttle with backup and—" "No," Leia interrupted. "I have  faith  in

Jaina; if she needs assistance, then she'll be in touch. Wherever she is,  I'm

sure—" An alarm sounded from the console, cutting off the  last  part  of  her

sentence.

"Hang on a second," Jag said. "I have another call coming  through  on  a

separate channel." He flipped a switch  to  hear  the  incoming  message.  "Go

ahead." "Colonel Fel, we have contacts emerging  from  hyper-space  in  Sector

Eleven." The voice belonged to Selwin Markota, Pride of  Selonia's  second  in

command.

Jag forced the problems on Bakura to the back of his mind.  His  duty  as

squadron leader took precedence for the moment over his concerns for Jaina and

Tahiri. "How many?" "Thirty, with more  on  the  way;  at  least  two  capital

vessels so far. It looks like a fleet." "Have they contacted Bakura?" "They're

being hailed now. I'll patch you into the defense fleet net." "Copy that." Jag

flicked back to the secure channel. "I'm sorry, Leia, Han, but I have to  go."

"We just got the call, too," Leia responded crisply. "We'll let  you  know  if

anything changes." "Flights A and B," Jag said on the  Twin  Sun  frequencies,

"stay here and mind the big bird.  C,  you're  with  me."  He  peeled  out  of

formation and was followed by two X-wings and  a  clawcraft.  On  the  scanner

before him, the ships emerging from hyperspace stood out like a nebula in  the

deep void. The number of contacts now stood at forty, with still more coming.

"This is Bakuran  Defense  Fleet,"  called  the  local  traffic  control.

"Please identify yourself and state your intentions." The response came in the

form of a warbling, dissonant fluting.

REFUGEE 159 Jag had  been  briefed;  he  knew  enough  to  recognize  the

language. The fleet had originated from Lwhekk—but who was commanding it?  The

Ssi-ruuk or the P'w'eck?

The voice of C-3PO came over the comm. "The  message  says:  'I  come  in

peace, people of Bakura, to consecrate this world and bond our two cultures in

alliance.' " Another  voice  spoke  from  Bakura  in  response  to  this.  Jag

recognized it as belonging to Prime Minister Cundertol.

"We welcome the Keeramak to Bakura in the hope that this  new  friendship

will bring prosperity and enlightenment to all." The sickly sentiment made Jag

roll his eyes. Luckily the speeches didn't last any longer than that.

"Keeramak Entourage, please assume the following orbits," the first voice

from Bakura said. There followed a long list of requests designed to  minimize

the disruption caused by the many new arrivals, at the end of which there came

a brief burst of alien song,  which  C-3PO  interpreted  to  mean,  simply,  "

'Understood.'  "  Jag  turned  his  interception  flight  into   a   sweeping,

exploratory cruise, examining the alien vessels with a critical eye. The Chiss

had fought the Ssi-ruuk on several occasions, contributing behind  the  scenes

to the Imperium's retreat at the advance of  the  New  Republic.  He  himself,

though, had never seen one outside of a simulation. While their battle  droids

consisted of simple, angular pyramids with weapon and sensor  arrays  at  each

corner, the larger  ships  possessed  a  smoothly  organic  appearance.  Great

sweeping  hulls  with  relatively  few  breaks  formed   bulbous,   shell-like

structures that bulged in odd but beautiful ways. He spotted two ovoid Sh'ner-

class planetary assault carriers, accompanied by numerous Fw'Sen-class  picket

ships. The assault carriers were crewed by more than five hundred P'w'eck—plus

over three hundred en-teched droids, if they were still used—and  were  nearly

750 meters long. Overall, given their  structure,  they  displaced  a  greater

volume than a Victory-class Star Destroyer.

It seemed an awful lot of hardware to accompany a diplomatic mission. But

then, he supposed, the P'w'eck were probably just as nervous of  the  Bakurans

as the Bakurans were of them. With their freedom only recently attained,  they

wouldn't be keen to send  their  leader  into  the  middle  of  a  potentially

difficult situation without sufficient backup.

At least they weren't shy about sharing their battle data, though. On the

screen before him, names rapidly  appeared  next  to  all  the  major  P'w'eck

vessels. The cruiser in the middle of the formation was called the  Firrinree,

while the one lagging slightly  behind  was  designated  the  Errinung'ka.  He

didn't even bother to attempt to remember the names of the picket ships.

As he watched, the last of the stragglers arrived and the formation broke

in three to assume the orbits given them by the  Bakuran  Defense  Fleet.  The

maneuver was accomplished smoothly and without fuss—and that spoke  loudly  of

the discipline and flexibility  of  the  P'w'eck  fleet.  One  thing  was  for

certain: they might be new to the  idea  of  being  in  charge  of  their  own

destiny, but the P'w'eck had been  exhaustively  trained  by  their  Ssi-ruuvi

masters to fly battleships. It showed.

He hung around the main chunk of the fleet long enough to follow security

negotiations with the reception team on the ground, and to witness the  launch

of seven heavily armed D'kee-class landing ships. The  Keera-mak  was  on  its

way.

Jag only hoped that Bakura was ready for it.

PART THREE AGGRESSION

The warm, dry air of the library was making Saba's scales itchy, and  she

scratched absently at them while  skimming  through  one  of  the  many  books

suggested by Tris. She barely noticed the discomfort,  however;  her  thoughts

were too focused on the information she was  reading.  It  surprised  her  how

effortlessly she had taken  to  this  form  of  research.  When  they'd  first

started, she had thought she'd never get  used  to  the  turning  of  pages—it

seemed so time-consuming! And yet now she was skimming through the books  with

an ease and confidence similar to that with which skotcarp lizards  back  home

would skate down the shaley slopes of Mount Ste'vshuulsz.

"Found anything yet?" Saba looked up to see Mara peering at her from  the

end of an aisle of towering bookcases. She shook her head with some apology as

she closed the book she'd been browsing through. She'd been reading  up  on  a

world on the outer edge of the Unknown Regions where a species of stilt-legged

insects lived in a densely oxygenated atmosphere. Their  legends  spoke  of  a

fire god who burst out of the planet's core every three years  to  burn  large

swaths of their world to the ground, initiating  a  new  cycle  of  death  and

rebirth. But as interesting as it was, it didn't help their search. There  was

nothing about mysterious planets appearing in the sky anywhere in the text.

"This one has found nothing," she replied.

Mara nodded. "None of us has, unfortunately.  I  guess  we're  all  still

trying to come to grips with these books. It's frustratingly slow." "It  would

be slower still if not in Basic. Our persistence will pay off," Saba told her.

"It alwayz does." Mara smiled, then moved  off  in  the  direction  of  Danni;

probably, Saba thought, to check on the young scientist's progress also.

Saba pushed the book she'd been reading to one side and took another from

the stack that Tris had supplied.  Another  species,  another  dead  end.  She

didn't mind, though. She was reveling in the diversity of life in the  Unknown

Regions. The search was a far cry from any of her previous duties as  a  Jedi,

and in many ways she knew it could turn out to be one of the  most  difficult,

given the amount of material they had to work through. But she also knew  that

finding the data itself would probably  turn  out  to  be  the  easiest  part;

examining it and determining if it was relevant or not would undoubtedly  take

a lot longer.

Two books later, it was time  to  get  up  and  stretch.  Her  eyes  were

starting to ache from reading, and her back was stiff and sore. Seeking a  new

list, she loped through the narrow aisles to the center of the vast room, from

where the voices of Jacen and the others came. Luke and Mara  looked  up  from

three massive piles of books as she approached. They had conscripted a massive

snow-wood table for their use; broad and square, it was easily large enough to

seat twenty people. Datapads lay scattered before them, into which fragmentary

notes had been entered. Lieutenant Stalgis emerged from  one  of  the  aisles,

staggering under yet another stack of books. No one could be spared  from  the

effort. The only person missing was, ironically, the one who would  have  been

the most fascinated by it all: Soron Hegerty. Worn out  from  the  episode  on

Munlali Mafir, the doctor had elected to wait out this mission  to  the  Chiss

from orbit. But she was still there in spirit, and her voice  could  often  be

heard issuing from comlinks, requesting more data in annoyed tones.

"Look at this," Luke announced, holding up a  book  before  him  for  the

others to see. Saba leaned over Jacen's and Mara's shoulders. While  the  bulk

of the text had been translated into Basic, there were still porti6ns  in  the

native Cheunh that demanded assistance from the librarian.  Saba  concentrated

to make sense of the words before her.

The pages Luke had opened to showed the location and history of  a  world

called Yashuvhu. It had been settled by humans some  three  thousand  standard

years earlier, but had only recently encountered the Chiss. A  quick  scan  of

the pages revealed no reference to any wandering planets, although there was a

description of  an  ancient  woman  called  the  Prophetess  who  oversaw  the

spiritual development of the colony. This woman taught that there was a living

energy field pervading and connecting all things, which, when tapped  into  in

the correct way... "She's talking about the Force," Mara said. "I  think  so,"

Luke said. "Look." He opened to a page containing pictures of the  Prophetess,

whose real name, it turned out, was Valara Saar. It showed a woman of advanced

years in a state  of  excellent  preservation.  The  Chiss  contact  team  had

attempted to visit  her  home  in  the  Yashaka  Mountains,  but  they'd  been

repelled. No one, it seemed, came to the Prophetess's retreat uninvited.

The images were sketchily drawn  and  portrayed  the  chaos  of  a  hasty

retreat, but one thing was plain to see. "She's wielding a lightsaber!"  Jacen

exclaimed. "It looks very much like it," Luke agreed, displaying  a  bit  more

calm than his excited nephew. "How long haz she been there?" Saba asked.

"The records don't say," Mara said. "But if she was trained as  a  child,

it could be decades." "Either that or she found a Holocron," Jacen suggested.

"Let's not jump to any hasty conclusions," Luke said. "Strictly speaking,

this isn't what we're here to look for." Nevertheless, he had dived deep  into

the information on Yashuvhu and the Prophetess. Saba noted  other  books  open

around him, all tracing the same topic. The woman herself had not  deigned  to

speak to the Chiss landing party, but many of her acolytes  had.  The  records

contained a list of her primary  teachings:  patience,  humility,  compassion,

clarity of thought,  balance  between  physical  and  mental  prowess,  strict

observance of diet, and, lastly, a solitary lifestyle. In all the  years  that

Valara Saar had been teaching the people of Yashuvhu, they had never known her

to take a mate, so she never had any children.  In  fact,  her  only  constant

companion was a creature called a duuvhal, which she had raised from a pup.

"Hey, I think I've found something!" All attention shifted to Danni,  who

emerged from an aisle clutching a very large book. Beneath the overhang of her

unkempt hair, there was excitement in her eyes as she placed the book  heavily

on the table and flicked through some pages.

"See: here, and here..." Saba and the others  looked  to  where  she  was

pointing. The young scientist had found a reference to an asteroid  belt  that

had been perturbed by recent tidal forces. Millions of chunks of rock  ranging

in size from grains of dust to giant boulders had been knocked out of orbit by

something very large within the last three decades. That in itself  wasn't  so

unusual; solar systems were frequently unstable, with planets drifting in from

interstellar space, wandering across orbits, or leaving at the whim of chaotic

perturbations. What made this one unique was a record made by the civilization

on an inner world before their atmosphere clouded. More  than  a  dozen  large

rocks had impacted on the planet, rendering it uninhabitable.

The ruins contained murals depicting a new star in the  sky—a  blue-green

star that had appeared one summer as though out of nowhere,  then  disappeared

half a year later. Its appearance had triggered a terrible religious war  that

had seen one entire nation subjugated  and  another  reduced  to  rubble.  The

victors had celebrated the star's visit. But their  celebrations  had  quickly

turned to mourning as first fire rained from the sky, and  then  the  new  sun

vanished. Within two generations, they'd been reduced to savagery.

"Another fleeting visit, another violent  culture,"  Mara  said,  cutting

through the silence. "The correlation gets stronger." "I see no evidence  that

Zonama Sekot is deliberately trying to harm the people it comes across,"  Luke

said thoughtfully.

"Nevertheless," Mara said, "this is  what  it's  doing."  "Inadvertently,

perhaps," Luke  said.  "Not  deliberately."  "Maybe  it  just  isn't  thinking

straight," Stalgis suggested.

"Or wasn't thinking straight," Jacen added. "This is  an  old  reference,

after all." "True," Luke said. "And until we  see  something  more  recent,  I

don't think we can judge it." Saba realized only then that  Luke  was  warring

within himself over Zonama Sekot. Something  as  powerful  as  an  intelligent

planet might just as easily be influenced to do evil as it could to  do  good.

So even if they did find it, the Galactic Alliance would still have to  decide

whether or not to  trust  it.  Any  evidence  to  suggest  that  it  had  been

responsible for destroying a civilization—inadvertently or not—would be viewed

unfavorably.

"Good work, Danni," Luke said. "And that goes for  everyone.  It  may  be

slow, but we are making progress." Obtaining  another  list  from  Tris,  Saba

followed Danni back into the maze of books.

"You know, Saba," the young human scientist said, "I think we've got  the

easiest job here. Have you ever tried to extrapolate star maps from  the  sort

of old sketches  we're  finding  here?  It's  almost  impossible!"  "This  one

suspectz that'z the idea," Saba responded, sissing deep in her throat.

Danni pulled out a book on a new system near the one Saba was  exploring.

It was a long way from any of the other known contact regions. If  they  found

something there, that would suggest that Zonama Sekot's search  for  a  hiding

place had ranged extensively across the Unknown Regions. If it had followed  a

random search pattern, then a clear trail might not even  exist,  which  meant

that no amount of searching here would help them find it. She  had  to  assume

that this wasn't the case—otherwise there was no real point in even trying.

Worlds upon worlds upon  worlds...  Saba  ranged  among  the  records  of

civilizations dead, thriving, or newly born. There were a thousand new species

to examine, but time didn't allow her to linger too long on any of  them;  she

could only touch fleetingly upon each, skimming  over  their  aspirations  and

philosophies like a pebble across a pond.

"Be sure to take a break if you need to," Luke said  the  next  time  she

returned for another list of books. "You've certainly all  earned  it."  "That

might not be a bad idea, actually," Jacen put in, eyeing the towers  of  books

building on the table. "You and Danni have been searching for  six  hours.  We

have plenty of data to pore over while you rest." Saba was  speechless  for  a

moment. Six hours? It didn't feel anywhere near that  long.  It  had  been  so

pleasant to be apart from the world, to forget her own troubles for  a  while.

Now that she thought about it, though, she could feel her body's fatigue.  Her

tail was as limp and lifeless as the trail of Zonama Sekot itself.

She shook her head.

"Time iz passing," she said, picking up the next list.  "And  hunting  iz

this one'z specialty." Then, with the scent of old books and cold trails  rich

in her nostrils, she resumed her patient, determined prowl of the data.

Jaina kept her head low as she followed Malinza across  the  flat,  tiled

rooftop.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" she asked after a while.

"Positive." The escapee didn't look  over  her  shoulder  to  reply,  nor

slacken her pace. "This way." Malinza sidetracked to the  edge  of  the  roof,

jumping off without hesitation into space. Jaina hurried to the same  spot  in

time to see Malinza land heavily on another rooftop two floors below.  Despite

her growing reservations, she followed easily with a similar leap.

Salis D'aar from the air had seemed a lot  more  sophisticated  than  the

side of it she was seeing now. Its weblike radial layout and high  towers  had

reminded her of many other affluent colony worlds she'd  visited.  On  Bakura,

the beginnings of rot had seeped in at basement level,  with  the  high  water

table and humidity attacking steel-crete and other  preventives  directly,  or

encouraging plant life to grow around and into it. The cultural  unwillingness

to use droids meant that menial repair work often went undone.  Since  fleeing

the penitentiary, she had become quite familiar with the  sort  of  decay  the

city was capable of. The farther she went out from the center of the city, the

more unattractive  it  became.  The  paint  jobs  were  rougher,  the  streets

themselves were considerably grubbier, and fewer repulsors meant  that  things

like street-lamps, vehicles, or buildings didn't float. It was almost

like an entirely different  world  than  the  one  she'd  initially  been

introduced to.

Jaina maintained Malinza's pace perfectly, staying  half  a  dozen  steps

behind at all times. She wasn't trying to catch up; watching the  girl's  back

was her priority right now. This whole escape had been way too easy,  and  her

tingling senses were screaming for her to  keep  her  eyes  peeled.  Her  only

consolation was that their route through the city had been far too  convoluted

for anyone to follow.

They descended a stairwell to the third floor of the building. There they

climbed through a window and went handover-hand along a dead power line to yet

another building. This one appeared as if it had been  empty  since  the  Ssi-

ruuvi invasion. Its outer shell held empty offices and  reception  areas;  the

interior was a giant atrium filled with tropical plants gone wild. The faceted

roof far above consisted of dirty transparisteel that seemed as though it  had

been designed to let the sun in during the day and open at night, although  it

obviously hadn't done so for a long time. The opening mechanism had long since

turned to rust, and now, apart from a narrow slit through which the rain crept

in, it remained permanently closed.

Malinza stopped briefly  at  a  balcony  on  the  second  floor,  quickly

checking on Jaina. She was about to continue when Jaina  grabbed  her  by  the

shoulder and held her back. Malinza faced  her,  confused,  and  Jaina  put  a

finger to her lips to indicate that she should  remain  still.  The  sense  of

walking into a trap was stronger here than ever.

The only noises she could hear were dripping sounds from within the dense

vegetation at the heart of  the  building.  If  Bakuran  security  forces  had

managed to follow them, then they were being exceptionally stealthy about  it.

Still, she had more than just  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  Bakuran  security

weren't the only threat awaiting them.

From above her in the trees, Jaina heard a soft click. In an instant  her

lightsaber was out.  With  her  free  hand  she  pushed  Malinza  behind  her,

protecting her from any attack.

"She's fast." Jaina squinted into the trees, but she  couldn't  make  out

the owner of the voice.

"Who is she?" "Look at the lightsaber," replied another. "She's a  Jedi."

"One lightsaber against  three  blaster  rifles,"  returned  the  first.  "She

couldn't be that fast." "Just try me  and  find  out,"  Jaina  challenged  the

voices, tightening her grip on her  lightsaber  while  pinpointing  the  exact

location of the voices in the trees. There were three  of  them  at  different

heights, two male and one female. A subtle movement of  the  leaves  suggested

that perhaps there was a fourth slightly higher, silent for now.  The  leader,

perhaps?

Whatever, she thought. A quick tug of the branches with the  Force  would

soon bring them down.

"It's okay," Malinza said, taking a step forward  so  she  stood  between

Jaina and those in the trees. "At least I think she's okay,  anyway."  "What's

she doing here, Malinza?" "I brought her."  Malinza  faced  Jaina.  "It's  all

right. You can put your weapon  down.  This  is  Freedom."  Jaina  reluctantly

relaxed her posture, deactivating the lightsaber and dropping her hands to her

sides. She wasn't completely convinced everything was all right, but the  last

thing she wanted to do was give the rest of Malinza's  rebel  cell  the  wrong

impression.

The mini forest rustled as leaves parted and three  people  emerged.  The

woman was striking, with the sides of her skull shaved and  the  remainder  of

her blond hair tied back in a whiplike ponytail. The man nearest  to  her  was

dressed in a tatty security uniform about two sizes too big;  his  brown  hair

was wild and he looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week. The third  was  a

Rodian, his green skin blending almost perfectly with the foliage.

"This is Jaina Solo," Malinza told them.

Jaina acknowledged them with a curt nod,  glancing  uneasily  toward  the

tree for a glimpse of the fourth person  she  suspected  to  be  still  hiding

there.

"And what is it, exactly, that Jaina Solo wants?" the blond-haired  woman

asked.

"There's something going on here, on Bakura," Jaina replied for  Malinza.

"I'd like to find out what it is." "You mean something other than the  usual?"

the human male asked. "The exploitation of the weak by the powerful, the  rape

of natural resources, the corruption of innocents—"  "Easy,  Zel,"  the  blond

said. "Let's not scare her away before we've heard  everything  she's  got  to

say." "Be mindful, Jjorg," the Rodian said in a  rasping  voice.  "A  Jedi  is

likely to put things into a mind as open as yours." "That only  works  on  the

weak-minded," Jaina said. "Besides which, I'm not here to  brainwash  anyone."

"And we're just supposed to take your word on  that?"  "Hey,  that's  enough,"

Malinza said firmly. "Where's Vyram, Jjorg? I need  to  talk  to  him."  "He's

lurking about somewhere," Zel said. "As usual." "I suspect that's  him  up  in

the trees over there," Jaina said, pointing to where she suspected the  fourth

person to be hiding.

A short laugh escaped from the greenery. "You have good eyes, Jedi," said

a voice. "If that is indeed what you're using." The leaves  parted  again  and

the fourth person emerged. He was a rakishly thin, black-haired male  who  was

perhaps a little older than Jaina. His cheekbones were promi-nent even beneath

a patchy beard, and his movements were sure in the treetop.

"I've learned not to rely on my eyes alone," she responded.

The man Malinza had described as the brains of  Freedom  smiled  faintly.

"Well, you come here with Malinza," he said. "That's enough  for  me,  at  the

moment." Jaina practically felt the spark that passed between the young  woman

at her side and the black-haired man in the tree, but neither of  them  openly

acknowledged any connection other than professional.

"Take it down, Zel, so we can come aboard," Malinza  said.  "I'm  getting

tired of calling  out  to  you  from  down  here."  The  scruffy-haired  human

disappeared into the foliage. Jaina was shepherded toward a nearby  stairwell,

and as she descended, she  experienced  a  momentary  giddiness.  The  strange

sensation caused her to stop and grab hold of something to steady  herself—and

it was then that she realized that the forest she was standing in wasn't  what

it appeared to be. The entire area was an  artificial  construct  draped  with

vines and other plants, suspended in midair on a bed  of  Bakura's  ubiquitous

repulsors so a casual glance would miss it completely. She wondered if it  was

an existing structure that Freedom had found and occupied,  or  one  they  had

slowly built up so as not to attract attention. From this distance, there  was

no real way of telling.

By the time she and Malinza reached the ground floor,  the  base  of  the

structure was at arm's length above their  heads.  It  wasn't  a  particularly

elegant arrangement, resembling nothing more than several  large,  rectangular

freight containers joined and surrounded by numerous layers of scaffold tubing

and heavy cables, with pots and lattices for the plants covering  it,  but  it

did make for an effective disguise. Jaina glimpsed  dark  spaces  within,  and

ladders leading higher up still.

Malinza reached up to grab one of the horizontal bars hanging  over  them

and hauled herself into the dense canopy. Clipping  her  lightsaber  onto  her

belt, Jaina did the same. With a groan, the structure  ascended  back  to  its

original position, leaving the floor some distance below.

Jjorg and Salkeli, the  Rodian,  were  at  the  entrance  to  the  lowest

container and helped Malinza inside. No such assistance was offered to  Jaina;

she had to manage by herself—which  she  did  without  difficulty.  Vyram  was

waiting inside the container, seated in a corner on a packing crate.

"Welcome to the Stack," he said to Jaina with a sweep of his arm to  take

in his surroundings. "It's not much, but it's all we have, I'm afraid." "Where

are the others?" Malinza asked him.

"Scattered about,"  he  replied.  "Or  out  on  patrol."  His  dark  eyes

glistened in a faint electrical light. "Things have been... difficult."  "Your

arrest really had us worried," Salkeli said.

"Not me, though," Zel said, dropping into the container through a hole in

the roof. "I'm cool." "Yeah," Jjorg scoffed. "About as cool as a  red  dwarf."

Malinza ignored both of them. "I'm sure the others will come  back  when  word

spreads that I'm out." "And I presume this one had something to do  with  your

escape," Salkeli said.

"Jaina? Actually, I'd assumed it was you, Vyram."  The  black-haired  man

shook his head. "I tried, but the defenses were way too tight. I was going  to

have another  go  at  it  tomorrow,  when  everyone's  attention  was  on  the

consecration." Malinza frowned. " If it wasn't you, then who was it?" "One  of

the other groups, perhaps," Vyram  said.  He  shrugged.  "Or  someone  on  the

inside. A sympathetic  guard,  maybe."  "Or  someone  sympathetic  higher  up,

perhaps," Jaina mused.

"How do you mean?" Malinza asked.

"Cundertol didn't believe you were guilty," Jaina answered.  "So  if  you

were framed and there was nothing official he could  do  about  it,  maybe  he

decided to at least try to make escape easier for you." "The Prime  Minister?"

Zel looked more unnerved than he was before. He used a short laugh to hide it.

"No way! That would just be too bizarre."  "It's  not  important  right  now,"

Vyram said. "I'm just glad that we have you back." Again Jaina sensed a  surge

of something more than just respect between Vyram  and  the  young  leader  of

Freedom. "She's not out of the woods yet," she  said.  "Remember,  Malinza  is

still a fugitive—regardless of who helped her.  She'll  have  to  stay  hidden

until we can find out who really  kidnapped  Cundertol."  "I've  been  digging

around," Vyram said, "but none of the data I've come across has  revealed  any

clues." "Would it be possible for me to see that data?" Jaina asked.

The young man glanced uncertainly at Malinza, who nodded. "Come on, then,

" he said, standing.  "I  hope  you're  not  afraid  of  heights,  though.  My

workshop's at the very top of the Stack." "I'm sure I can handle myself." With

a crooked smile, Vyram hauled himself up through the hole  in  the  container,

and Jaina and the others followed. From there it was up  ladders  and  through

other boxy room-spaces for another fifteen meters to  the  very  apex  of  the

interior jungle, where Vyram's workspace balanced on top of  the  rebel  heap.

Jaina had no doubts that the Stack was structurally sound,  otherwise  Freedom

wouldn't have used it as a base in the first place,  but  her  instincts  were

telling her otherwise. Any  sudden  movements  made  the  upper  reaches  sway

unnervingly.

"Pull up a seat," he said, indicating a  pile  of  empty  crates  in  one

corner. His own seat looked a lot more comfortable, consisting of  a  floating

orthopedically designed chair positioned  in  front  of  a  complex  array  of

computer screens and keyboards, many of  them  also  levitated  by  repulsors.

Jaina pulled up a crate, closely followed by  Malinza,  Zel,  and  Jjorg.  The

green-skinned Salkeli remained standing.

Vyram brought the system to life. "I know it's not much,  but..."  "Given

your circumstances," Jaina said,  "I'm  quite  impressed."  She  noted  insect

fibers in the corner of the crate, and what appeared to be a bird's nest under

a desk. "You're actually patched into the planetary network from here? "  "Not

permanently. We've a holocomm up on the roof, but we only use it when we  need

direct access. It's less risky to get a link-up, take what we want, then trawl

through it afterward to see if we can find something interesting. That's  what

the system's doing at the moment.  Comm  scanners  flag  anything  that  looks

vaguely suspicious for me to check out later. If I need to, I go  back  in  to

find more." That made sense, Jaina thought. Illegal nodes on any network  were

difficult to trace, even if suspicions were aroused, but it wasn't impossible.

Accessing the planetary network  irregularly  would  certainly  make  it  more

difficult for anyone to pin down Freedom.

"What have you found so far?" she asked. "Malinza  told  me  that  you've

uncovered evidence of corruption at a Senatorial  level.  You'd  be  naive  to

think that this is  anything  remarkable.  Every  government  I've  ever  seen

suffers from that to some degree or another—including my own."  Vyram  nodded.

"That's why we oppose the government  we  have.  There  has  to  be  a  strong

opposition to keep the Senate and Prime Minister honest.  They  might  try  to

shut us down, but we need to  be  here  for  the  Bakuran  people.  We're  the

planet's conscience." "You keep things in Balance," Jaina said.

Malinza smiled. "Exactly." "But how do you finance yourselves?" she asked

again. " I can't imagine any of this setup would have been cheap."  "You'd  be

surprised." Vyram's smile was  full  of  pride.  "The  equipment  is  actually

secondhand or on loan, and the Stack was here already. We just adapted what we

found to our needs. It's a better strategy than becoming indebted  to  people,

don't you think?" "Our allies today could be our  enemies  tomorrow,"  Malinza

agreed. "You see, we're not naive, Jaina. The only way to be  truly  objective

is to stay independent." "I admire your efforts," Jaina  said,  speaking  with

absolute honesty. She might not have agreed with Freedom's goals  or  methods,

but the fact that its members had managed to stay out of serious  trouble  for

so long was in itself a remarkable  feat.  "But  something  has  changed.  The

obvious question is: what?" "The only thing we can think of is this."  Vyram's

hands flickered across the keyboards as  he  accessed  encrypted  memory.  "We

uncovered a secret leak of government funds  through  several  intermediaries.

The amounts were all different and  the  payments  weren't  regular,  but  our

software was sophisticated enough to spot and flag them." "Where did the money

leak to?" Vyram shook his head. "There's no information  about  that  at  this

end; whoever set up the leak was careful in that respect. Barely had we  begun

to dig when the communications blackout came down  on  us."  Jaina  had  heard

about the infamous cluster over the years, but her own  knowledge  was  scant.

Aunt Mara had entertained a younger Jaina with stories of  adventures  in  the

cluster with Talon Karrde—tales of pirates and outlaws and renegades. If  only

a small percentage of the stories she'd heard were true, then she had no doubt

that there were probably many places within the cluster  that  would  be  more

than happy to take credits from Bakura —  whether  it  was  stolen  government

money or not.

"So you think this led to Malinza being arrested?" she asked.

"What else could it be?" Vyram replied. "Nothing else we've found  is  as

big as this. I mean, we're talking millions of credits  here.  It  has  to  be

someone in government behind it, because no one  else  would  have  the  codes

needed to access those funds and set up the system of automatic payments  from

within. If word got out, the  scandal  would  be  huge."  "We're  guessing  we

tripped something when we sliced the data,"  Malinza  said.  "There  would  be

safeguards against detection. The person behind this must have  realized  that

we noticed the leaky funds. They acted immediately, before we put  together  a

strong enough case to go public. At the moment, we have no idea  who's  behind

it, or why." Vyram nodded glumly. "It conies down  to  our  word  against  the

government—and following Malinza's arrest, our  word  isn't  looking  so  good

anymore." "So you need a suspect," Jaina said, thinking quickly. "Someone high

up in the government. High enough to set the payments in place  and  to  order

the fake arrest." "Such as?" "What about Blaine Harris?" she suggested.  "He's

the one who told us about Malinza's arrest. And he's certainly  in  the  right

spot to do everything else." Malinza and Vyram exchanged  a  look  that  Jaina

couldn't interpret. Then Malinza shrugged. "It's  possible."  "I  can  have  a

closer look at his  records,"  Vyram  said,  hands  moving  again  across  his

equipment. "Let me patch into  the  network  and  I'll  see  if  we  can  find

something on him." This took Jaina back a  little.  "You've  sliced  into  the

Deputy Prime Minister's private files?" Vyram smiled  fleetingly  up  at  her.

"Give me a minute and I will have."  Jaina  looked  on  as  Vyram  closed  the

documents he had opened for her and set new programs running. His fingers were

quick and confident as he prepared the Stack's system for  connection  to  the

Bakura's planetary network. Jaina wasn't the  only  one  admiring  his  skill,

either. Malinza's face was practically glowing with admiration as  he  worked.

This quickly turned to concern, however,  when  a  series  of  warning  bleeps

issued from the board before them.

Vyram frowned.

"Problem?" Jaina asked.

"I can't establish a link." He tried something  else,  but  received  the

same warning bleeps in response. "There seems to be some sort of interference.

" "Jamming?" "I don't think so. More likely it's a nearby signal swamping  the

microwave feed from the satellite. Let me see if I  can  tap  into  it."  Data

flashed across the screens as he switched rapidly from one program to another.

"Here, listen." A regular bleeping began to pulse from the network's speakers.

"I know that sound," Zel said from behind them. "That's a homing beacon!"

The dynamic inside the Stack instantly changed, with everyone suddenly  rising

to their feet and facing Jaina.

"So that's why my escape was so easy," Malinza said, advancing a pace.

"Wait a minute!"  Jaina  protested,  but  was  quickly  shouted  down  by

Salkeli.

"You led them right to us!" "She's  a  spy!"  Jjorg  said,  advancing  on

Jaina. "I say we kill her!" "Hold on," Vyram said, fiddling with the array  of

computers and adjusting a directional antenna. "She isn't the  source  of  the

transmission." "What?" Jjorg stopped in her  tracks  and  turned  to  look  at

Vyram. "Then where's it coming from?" Vyram pointed at Malinza.

"Me?" The rebel leader's face went pale.

Vyram checked the computers. "I'm  afraid  so,  Malinza.  The  signal  is

strongest where you're standing." The others were staring at their leader with

stunned expressions,  unsure  how  to  react.  Even  Vyram  seemed  frozen  by

indecision.

"Can we narrow down the location of the beacon?" Jaina asked.  "Maybe  we

can remove it before they home in." Vyram adjusted the antenna and  passed  it

over Malinza's body. The program's bleeping went up in pitch as it passed  her

midriff. She lifted her prison tunic to expose the  waistline  of  her  pants.

There, embedded between two lines of stitching, was a tiny bump in the fabric.

"They've had a bead on you the whole time." Zel's eyes darted around him,

staring wildly at the walls of the container—almost  as  if  through  them  he

could see security guards converging on the Stack. "They could be  here  right

now!" "Get a grip," Jjorg said in a manner that suggested his  panic  offended

her. "We have perimeter alarms, don't we? They couldn't get anywhere near  the

place without us knowing." "Why now?" Salkeli asked.

Jjorg turned to him. "What do you mean?" "They could've planted something

on Mali like this months ago," he  said.  "So  why  now?"  "Because  she's  an

escapee now," Vyram said. "And we're aiding and abetting her.  They're  clear-

cut criminal charges, not  something  as  gray  as  slicing."  Malinza  stood.

"They're only clear-cut if my original charge isn't a fake," she said.  "Which

it is." "Either way," Jaina said, "we're going to have to get  out  of  here."

"Running will only make us look guilty," the Rodian said.

"I agree with the Jedi," Zel said. "Staying here will get us  caught."  A

fierce buzzing from the computer system suddenly filled  the  room.  All  eyes

turned to Vyram at the computer console for an explanation.

His expression was grim. "That's the perimeter alarm." "I knew  it!"  Zel

shouted, nervously pacing the confined space. "I just knew it!" "Shut it, Zel!

" Malinza snapped. Then, more calmly, she turned to Vyram  and  asked,  "Which

one is it?" "North-Fourteen and  South-Seven.  They're  coming  in  from  both

sides." "Air?" "Not as yet." "Good." Malinza turned  to  the  others.  She  no

longer looked the frightened teenager; now she appeared every bit  the  leader

of a covert group under threat. "I'm open to any suggestions  at  this  time."

"Why not let the Jedi fight for us?" Zel said, his expression  just  a  little

too eager and manic for Jaina's liking. "She  could  easily  take  on—"  "No!"

Malinza said sharply. Zel fell instantly silent. "There'll be no fighting. You

know that I will never approve of violence." "We  might  not  have  a  choice,

Malinza," Jjorg said.

"No, there is an alternative," Jaina said. "You could remove the bug  and

give it to me. I could take it elsewhere,  to  throw  them  off  your  scent."

"Isn't it a bit late for that?" Jjorg said.  "They're  right  outside!"  Jaina

resisted the urge to snap back. Although Vyram had proved  that  she  was  not

responsible for having led the enemy to the Stack, she still  felt  as  though

everyone was blaming her for the situation they were in.

"They're not here yet, though," Vyram said, looking thoughtful.

"Yeah, but they're not stupid, either," Jjorg said.  "They'll  know  when

they're being duped." "Not if we present them with  many  variables  at  once.

We've had a distraction in place for some time, just in case a day should come

when they'd find us." He took a deep breath and looked at  Malinza.  "I'd  say

that day has arrived, wouldn't you?" Malinza nodded, then hastily tore the bug

from her waistband and handed it to Jaina.

"They're getting closer," the young leader said, glancing at the  screens

as another siren went off. "I'd hurry, if I were you."  "I'll  go  with  you,"

Salkeli said. "I know  the  streets  better  than  you  do."  Jaina  hesitated

briefly, then relented with a nod. She couldn't deny that what the Rodian said

made sense. "Okay," she said. Then, to Malinza, she asked, "Will you at  least

tell me where you're going?" "I think it would be best if  you  didn't  know."

The girl extended a hand; Jaina took it and shook. "We'll meet again,  though,

I'm sure." Jaina just nodded. There wasn't time for long farewells.

"After you," she said to Salkeli, and the Rodian dropped feet  first  out

of the container.

The work in the library was a painstaking  process,  and  after  so  many

hours poring over books, Saba was beginning to feel fatigue  pressing  at  the

stiff muscles beneath her itchy scales. Thankfully, though, there were  enough

allusions to a wandering planet in the innumerable cultures to  keep  everyone

optimistic. After Danni had  found  the  first  reference,  Saba  had  quickly

discovered two more, and shortly after that Jacen had found yet another. Since

then, as the trail grew warm, appearances came at a regular  rate.  When  what

they thought was Zonama Sekot had passed near a  relatively  civilized  world,

they were able to pin down its appearance with precise dates;  otherwise  they

were able to guess, based on more or  less  inaccurate  records  and  physical

evidence. Luckily, Saba thought,  they  weren't  chasing  an  event  that  had

happened centuries ago. In many cases, witnesses were still alive to relate to

the Chiss contact teams their firsthand experience of the "Coming of  the  New

Star," or the "Dawning of the Death Sun," or whatever else it happened  to  be

called. From these recollections, along with  more  recent  surveys  of  every

system in the Chiss's domain, they gradually began to reconstruct the planet's

movements.

Zonama Sekot had first appeared on the Imperial fringes  of  the  Unknown

Regions, visiting three systems within a couple of years. Then it  had  jumped

clear across to the outer edge of the galaxy,  where  habitable  systems  were

fewer and far between. There it had encountered a  species  that,  before  its

enslavement by the Yuuzhan Vong early in their invasion, would relate  to  the

Chiss visitors the coming of a world that hung  in  their  sky  for  a  month,

burning and smoking. This certainly didn't match the description of  the  lush

and peaceful world given by Vergere, but it did match predictions of the  sort

of stresses the crust of a planet might experience by jumping in  and  out  of

gravity wells through hyperspace. No one had ever heard of such a feat before,

so there was no experimental data on record,  but  the  most  basic  planetary

science suggested that Zonama Sekot would  not  have  been  unscathed  by  its

precipitous jumps across the galaxy.

Following this, it had retreated inward, toward the Core of  the  galaxy.

There it encountered  several  species  in  quick  succession  before  finally

settling down in one particular system for almost a year. The new light in the

sky had inspired a competitive surge from the  normally  content  denizens  of

that system's habitable world, with the two main  countries  entering  into  a

kind of "space race" to see who could be the first to  land  a  probe  on  the

mysterious visitor. However, well before the vying probes  made  orbit  around

the planet, it vanished once more.

Again, images taken before  it  disappeared  showed  a  world  completely

covered by smoke and ash, simmering in its own heat. Saba felt a pang of  pity

for the fleeing world as she once again contrasted these images with  that  of

Vergere's own testimony, reported by Jacen, of a  world  rich  with  life,  in

constant harmony with the Force.

Oddly, though, later reports from farther around the galactic  rim  spoke

of a world that was green again — so either Zonama Sekot had managed  to  heal

itself, or it was getting the hang of making hyperspace jumps without  causing

itself any further grievous damage. It came and went without warning, flitting

shyly from star to star in search of... what? Saba wondered, but she  couldn't

begin to imagine. Perhaps, she thought, somewhere along the way  it  had  lost

the only  company  it  had  ever  known—the  Ferroan  colonists  who  had  for

generations lived on its surface—and was now seeking replacements...

Then again, she was also aware that as one of the few  remaining  members

of her own species, still mourning the loss of her home planet, she  might  be

externalizing her own problems and transposing them  onto  Zonama  Sekot.  She

couldn't presume to know what went on in the mind of such an  incomprehensible

being that — A sudden high-pitched squeal startled Saba, causing her  to  jump

and almost drop the book she was returning to the shelf. She turned to  see  a

tall woman in her middle years dressed in a green jumpsuit beneath black robes

standing at the end of the aisle, both  hands  covering  her  mouth.  She  was

clearly surprised to have stumbled upon the huge Barabel.

Behind her stood a blond human girl who looked to be in her early  teens;

she was dressed in a black uniform that looked like a miniature version of the

CEDF dress code. The girl looked disdainfully at the older  woman,  as  though

thoroughly mortified by her exclamation.

"I-I—" the woman stammered, lowering her hands. A nervous smile failed to

hide her obvious embarrassment. "I'm sorry; you startled  me."  "There  iz  no

need to apologize," Saba said. "This one was startled also. We thought we were

alone in the library." "You are. I mean, you were." The woman still  seemed  a

little unsure of Saba.

"What my mother means is that we just arrived," the girl said.  "We  were

looking for my father, Soontir Fel." There was something in the way  the  girl

glanced to the ground as she said this that suggested she wasn't  telling  the

truth. Nevertheless, understanding dawned for  Saba  at  the  mention  of  the

Baron's name. "Then you must be Syal Antillez?" The woman smiled  more  easily

this time, dissolving some of her awkwardness—although not all. "Yes. And this

is my daughter, Wyn." Saba executed a  short,  respectful  bow.  The  wife  of

Soontir Fel, mother of Jagged  Fel,  and  sister  of  Wedge  Antilles  was  an

acquaintance she was pleased to make. "This one iz  Saba  Sebatyne."  "What're

you looking for?" Wyn asked, craning to look at the spine of the book Saba had

just replaced.

Saba hesitated, unsure how much she should reveal. "This one waz  tracing

the history of a speciez called the Hemes Arbora." The  girl  shrugged.  "I've

never heard of them." Saba stretched up to pull the book back down and flipped

it open to one of the strange, two-dimensional maps the archive preferred. She

tapped it with a claw.

"They originally came from here,  Carrivar,  and  migrated  to  Osseriton

here, via Umaren'k. This one  detected  their  influence  on  the  Umaren'k'sa

culture." "What does that mean?" "Wyn," her mother cautioned.

Syal Antilles was waiting some  distance  away—a  "safe"  distance,  Saba

observed. Despite her years living with Baron Fel among  the  Chiss,  she  was

probably still wary of nonhuman aliens—as so many Imperials seemed to  be.  To

Saba, she said: "I must apologize for my daughter's prying. I'm sure you  have

enough to do without her bothering you  with  questions."  "This  one  iz  not

bothered by your daughter," Saba assured. Then,  blinking  at  the  girl,  she

turned to answer her previous  question.  "Our  search  iz  for  a  particular

planet. Apart from itz one habitable world, Osseriton iz an empty system.  The

Hemes Arbora would have noticed a new world." Wyn laughed lightly. "You have a

strange way of saying things." "Wyn!" The girl, easily half  a  meter  shorter

than Saba, looked up at the Barabel and rolled her eyes, all the while keeping

her back to her mother.

Saba smiled, saying to Syal Antilles: "It iz all right. This one  iz  not

offended by her words." Wyn returned  the  smile  at  this,  then  turned  her

attention to the maps, her eyes almost shining in wonder. "You must lead  such

an amazing life. Traveling to all those place, having all kinds of adventures!

" Saba nodded, supposing that from a child's point  of  view  that  must  seem

true. Jedi Knights carried with them an aura of mystique wherever  they  went.

However, it was unlikely that Saba's current work  in  the  library  was  even

remotely connected to the adventures that Wyn was obviously imagining...

"So it's true," Syal muttered as she took a step  forward.  There  was  a

look of suspicion on her face. " You're really expecting us  to  believe  that

you're looking for Zonama Sekot." Saba didn't bother denying it. "This iz  our

quarry, yes." "But Zonama Sekot is nothing more than a legend, a myth.''  Syal

shook her head, eyes narrowing as her suspicion came to the fore. "What is  it

you're really after?" "This one does not know what you mean by—" "I mean  that

I find it hard to believe that you came all this way to chase  shadows!"  Saba

frowned, her eyebrow ridges  contracting  thickly  on  her  brow.  She  didn't

understand why the woman's temperament had suddenly changed,  or  indeed  what

she was trying to get at. "Why else would Master  Skywalker  bring  uz  here?"

"The CEDF Library, of course. It gives you access to everything we have on all

the people and places known to the Chiss!" "But why should  we  want  to  know

thiz?" "Because you're looking for allies,"  she  said.  "We've  resisted  the

Yuuzhan Vong better than you have. You need us far more  than  we  need  you."

"You think we're looking for a way  to  convince  you  to  join  the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances?" "Or maybe coerce us," Syal returned bluntly.

"Mom," Wyn said. There was a hint of embarrassment and  reproach  in  her

tone. Then she faced Saba with a look of apology. "She doesn't mean  what  she

says. She's just worried you're going to try to take Dad away from  her,  like

you took Jag." The woman's eyes flashed anger at her daughter, and  her  voice

carried denial. "Wyn!" "Oh, come on, Mom," the girl said, wheeling  around  to

face her mother. "You've been worried about Dad ever since Jag left!"  "That's

not true," Syal said  firmly,  but  there  was  something  in  her  eyes  that

suggested that what her daughter said was true. After a moment, she sighed and

shook her head slowly. "It hasn't been since Jag left, Wyn;  it's  been  since

Coruscant fell." Saba was beginning to feel out of her depth. She wished  that

Master Skywalker was here to face these accusations instead of her; he was far

more adept at handling such matters.

"Before Coruscant, I was actually trying to talk Soontir into joining the

fight against the Yuuzhan Vong." All acrimony had  gone  from  her  tone,  for

which Saba was grateful. She seemed to speak now as a means of explaining  her

prior hostility toward Saba's presence. "I wanted him to join the New Republic

like Jag did, either with the rest of the Chiss or without them. But he didn't

want to fight; he said that the New Republic could handle  the  Yuuzhan  Vong,

just as we were handling it on our side of  the  galaxy.  Then  you  lost  the

capital and — She hesitated briefly, as if collecting her  thoughts.  "I  knew

two things, then: that he would change his mind; and that you  were  going  to

lose." Her eyes flitted be-tween Wyn and Saba as she said, "I  won't  let  you

take him down with you. I won't." "Do you think he will be safe  here  if  the

Chiss don't join uz in the war?" The  expression  on  Syal's  face  told  Saba

everything she needed to know. The woman knew that the Chiss had  no  hope  if

the rest of the galaxy fell to the  Yuuzhan  Vong;  within  years,  the  alien

invaders would be replenished and able to overwhelm even the  strongest  Chiss

defense.

"Don't make the mistake of  underestimating  the  Yuu-zhan  Vong,"  Danni

suddenly put in from the other end of the aisle - All eyes turned to her. Saba

hadn't heard the scientist  arrive,  and  wasn't  sure  how  long  she'd  been

listening in. Her expression was heavy with  tiredness,  but  her  words  were

uttered with the clarity of personal experience. "Too many of us have  already

paid a terrible price for doing just that. The New Republic, the  Empire,  the

Hutts, the Ithorians, the Rodians—the list keeps  getting  longer  with  every

year this war continues. You obviously know what's been  going  on;  you  must

realize how serious a threat these invaders are.  Do  you  really  think  that

hiding out here will save you forever? They may decide to wipe you  out  on  a

whim, just like they tried to do with the Imperial Remnant." "Your position iz

untenable," Saba added. "Denying it will not make it otherwise." "I don't want

to lose him," Antilles whispered, her expression one of someone caught between

two conflicting emotions. "I can't take it anymore. I can't..."  "Mom..."  The

daughter looked frightened.

"Do not be afraid," Saba said, putting as much compassion  as  she  could

into her rough, reptilian voice. "We are not your enemies; we understand  your

fearz." Wyn looked up at her with wide, staring eyes. "But there  iz  no  easy

solution to this war. Turning your back on it won't make it go away.  We  need

long-term solutions; we need to work together. Of that, this one iz absolutely

certain, Syal Antilles." Syal nodded, then, although her  uncertainty  clearly

remained.

"You're Syal Antilles?" Danni asked, coming closer.

"Yes," the woman replied. "Why?" "Baron Fel just arrived," she said. "But

he didn't  mention  that  he  was  expecting  you."  "He  wasn't,"  she  said,

confirming Saba's earlier suspicion of Wyn's lie. "We just heard that  someone

had come from home, and we wanted to see them." Gone was the frightened mother

and wife; in her place stood a composed and confident woman beaming a pleasant

smile to a stranger who might not have heard every doubt she'd just expressed.

"And now that we have seen you, perhaps we should be moving along."  Her  eyes

met Saba's briefly, exchanging all manner of  emotion—the  most  prominent  of

which was gratitude. "Thank you for your words, Saba.  And  please  accept  my

apology for mine." "There iz no need," Saba said, effecting a slight bow.

Syal Antilles returned the gesture. "Come along, Wyn." "I think  I  might

stay and help them, if that's all right?" The girl directed this to  Saba  and

Danni, both of whom nodded.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Wyn," her  mother  said.  "They  don't

need you getting in their way while they're trying to work." "No, it's  fine,"

Danni said. "Actually, we could use the help." "Are  you  sure?"  Syal  asked.

There still seemed to be a residue of embarrassment for her earlier outburst.

But Saba knew that an injection of youthful enthusiasm from Wyn would  be

just what they needed. "This one iz certain that Wyn would not be  a  burden."

Wyn's face immediately lit up. "You won't regret  it.  I  know  these  records

better than most people—including Tris!" "That I seriously doubt," her  mother

said.

Wyn didn't respond; instead she faced Danni and asked: "Is it  true  that

one of the Solo twins is here with the Skywalkers?" Danni nodded  and  smiled.

"Jacen Solo, yes." "And will I get to meet him, too?"  "I'm  sure  you  will,"

Danni said.

"Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Wyn," her mother  said.  She  still

seemed hesitant about her daughter staying. "We still have to clear this  with

your father." "He'll be fine with it, Mom," Wyn said, fairly bouncing  on  her

toes. Her enthusiasm suggested that not much in  the  way  of  excitement  had

happened in her life for a long, long time.

"This one will mind her while you check, if you wish." Syal nodded, still

with some uncertainty, as Danni led her away.

"Thank you so much for this!" she exclaimed once her mother and Danni had

disappeared down another aisle. "This will be fantastic!"  "It  will  also  be

hard work," Saba cautioned. "And it iz  very  important  work,  too."  "Oh,  I

understand that," Wyn said, forcing herself  to  settle  down.  Then,  looking

around, she spread her arms as if to encompass the entire  library  and  said:

"So where did you want to start?" Jaina followed as quickly as  she  could  as

Salkeli slithered down the pipes and vines to the bottom  of  the  Stack.  The

entire structure shuddered as it lowered slightly to make their  drop  to  the

ground less severe. She looked around to make sure the area was clear. It was.

However close the Bakuran guards were, thankfully they hadn't yet breached the

ground floor.

Salkeli waved for her to follow. With the bug tucked deep in one  of  her

jumpsuit pockets and her deactivated lightsaber in hand, she did so. Her  feet

fell silently among the plant  debris  and  rubble  that  made  the  abandoned

building look more like ruins in a jungle than an abandoned office block.  The

Rodian led her out  of  the  atrium  space  and  through  a  series  of  short

corridors. They entered what had once been a public  refresher  and,  after  a

brief pause to listen for sounds outside, pushed out the window.

"After you, this time," Salkeli said. Jaina slipped  through  the  narrow

space and into the darkness outside.

She found herself standing in a long  and  very  narrow  alley.  She  was

grateful that there were no guards waiting for them,  because  there  wouldn't

have been much room to fight if there had been.

It was still night by the look of the sky. She  hadn't  yet  adjusted  to

local time, but she suspected that dawn wasn't far off.  If  Malinza  and  the

other members of Freedom were going to make a clean getaway, they'd have to do

it soon.

"What sort of distraction does Vyram have in mind, anyway?" she whispered

to the Rodian as he emerged from the window beside her.

"Wait and see," he answered with a wink.

He hurried up the alley, moving carefully but  quickly.  Jaina  followed,

alert to the slightest change in the environment around  her.  A  fitful  wind

blew from ahead of her, throwing up dust  and  rustling  discarded  paper  and

rubbish. She was acutely aware of the fact that the guards didn't have  to  be

supersleuths to find her. All they had to do was follow the  signal  from  the

bug in her pocket. Ideally, what she needed was a  feral  cratsch  or  a  lost

droid to which she could attach the bug, after which she could  make  her  own

escape. Until then, though, she would  just  have  to  keep  moving  and  stay

attentive.

Salkeli was within ten meters of the end of  the  alley  when  an  aircar

suddenly swept over them, landing lights and powerful arcs flashing  down  the

narrow gap between the buildings. In a second it was gone.  Jaina  could  hear

the whine of its turbines as it circled to come back around and pinpoint  them

again.

Through the Force, Jaina sensed the  blaster  come  up  from  behind  her

before the woman holding it had even had chance to fire. In one smooth  motion

she wheeled around in midstep and activated her  lightsaber,  bringing  it  up

between her and the guard at the distant end of the alley at the exact instant

the laser bolt fired. There was a bright flash as the bolt discharged into the

wall beside her, spraying chips of stone into the air.  More  bolts  followed,

but the smoke in the air spoiled the guard's aim, and Jaina was easily able to

back away after Salkeli, providing cover.

The Rodian hissed for her to hurry. Sensing no  one  lying  in  wait  for

them, she turned and ran full tilt for the exit from the  alley.  Salkeli  had

his blaster out, ready to fire at anyone who got in his  way.  Jaina,  on  the

other hand, wasn't so committed to attacking people who, despite  her  current

situation, were supposed to be her allies.

Out of the alley, she found herself on  a  wider,  more  exposed  street.

Salkeli was already halfway across it, heading  for  a  smashed  window  in  a

building on the far side. Jaina followed without hesitation, deactivating  her

lightsaber as she went. She dashed across the road and dived headlong  through

the window just seconds after Salkeli. She rolled as  she  landed,  coming  up

into a crouch to examine her surroundings. A quick look around told  her  they

were in the remains of  an  open-plan  office,  long  abandoned,  with  broken

furniture strewn about the floor.

Salkeli was clambering to his feet just as the guards  emerged  from  the

alley across the street.

"Keep moving!" he urged, dashing from the room with his head low.

He took her deep into the building,  then  down  into  one  of  its  sub-

basements. Kicking open a stuck door, he revealed a long tunnel that,  judging

by its length, stretched to several other buildings  along  the  street.  They

hurried along it, passing entrances to other basement levels.

"I trust you have a plan?" Jaina said.

"More or less," he called back to her. "We'll go back up in a second,  to

throw them off track. Once we're sure Malinza and the rest  are  safely  away,

I'll take any suggestions you have." Footfalls came from the  corridor  behind

them. Jaina spun around, igniting her lightsaber and deflecting a  handful  of

blaster bolts that had been aimed at their fleeing  backs.  Salkeli  took  the

next stairwell on their right; Jaina followed.

He didn't stop at the ground floor, but instead continued on to  the  top

of the building. When they emerged, the aircar was waiting for them,  hovering

above the roof like the remotes she'd once trained with—only much larger,  and

much deadlier. Two guards hung over its sides, blaster rifles pointing down at

Salkeli and Jaina. Dodging and deflecting laser bolts, the two  of  them  took

cover behind a ventilation shaft. Jaina used the  Force  to  rock  the  aircar

while the Rodian returned fire. That evened the score, but they were still  in

a no-win situation because they had nowhere to run.

She was about to point this out when a loud explosion from nearby brought

a halt to the firing from the aircar. The  attention  of  the  guards  in  the

vehicle suddenly turned to a huge ball of burning gas rising up from a  nearby

building—the same building, Jaina noted, that had contained the Stack. She was

so surprised by the turn of events that she  barely  noticed  the  arrival  of

other guards from the stairwell. Thankfully, though, they were also  attracted

to the spectacle, staring in amazement at what was  emerging  from  the  newly

formed hole where the building's skylight had once been.

The Stack itself—its ragtag jumble of containers  loosely  tied  together

with scaffolding and hidden by vines—rose gracefully  into  the  predawn  sky,

glinting shards of shattered transparisteel falling like silver rain onto  the

building below. Propelled by repulsors, the entire structure was as buoyant as

a hot-air balloon, and moved in much the same way. As soon as it  had  cleared

the top of the building, it began to drift with the prevailing wind,  trailing

a spreading cloud of smoke and debris beneath it.

The aircar sped away to intercept the  floating  structure,  leaving  the

guards on the rooftop staring at the spectacle.

"Now's the time for suggestions," he hissed. "Before  those  guards  over

there remember what they're here for. Right now they stand between us and  our

only means of escape." "There is one other," Jaina said, staring at  the  edge

of the roof a dozen or so meters away.

Salkeli laughed, following her gaze. "Don't tell me that  Jedi  can  fly,

too?" She shook her head and smiled at him. "No, but we can  jump.  Come  on!"

With that, she bolted for the edge of the rooftop, not stopping to check  that

the Rodian was following. Then, trusting in her instincts and the  Force,  she

threw herself into the air.

Instead of  landing  on  another  rooftop,  however,  she  found  herself

plunging into a deep and wide aqueduct half filled with fast-moving water. The

current instantly grabbed  and  held  her  down.  Her  limbs  flailed  as  she

struggled to orient herself and come up for air. Lungs  burning,  she  finally

broke the surface, desperately trying to suck in some oxygen while at the same

time coughing up some of the water she'd inhaled. Then, from somewhere nearby,

above the sound of rushing current, she heard the  wheezing  laughter  of  the

Rodian.

"Over here!" he called as the current  swept  them  along  into  a  high-

ceilinged tunnel. He was paddling strongly a meter or so away from her.

She spat out some more water and swam to his side. "I presume  the  Stack

was the distraction you mentioned. It was empty, right?"  "Right."  His  voice

echoed in the tunnel. "While the guards chasing us  split  up  to  check,  the

others would have slipped out through the basement." "But all that equipment,"

she said. A loss like that for a small group such as Freedom had to hurt. "All

that data!" "Data and equipment are replaceable; lives are not." An open shaft

passed by overhead, briefly  affording  them  some  light.  It  reflected  off

Salkeli's multifaceted eyes. "Okay, we're there," he said. "Swim for the edge.

" "You actually know where we are?" She was genuinely surprised.

"A Rodian always has an escape plan," he said, kicking vigorously for the

edge of the tunnel. "I thought everyone knew that." "But it  was  my  idea  to

jump!" The Rodian snorted, a nasal bleat that sounded unusually  loud  in  the

tunnel. "I had already thought of it; I just wanted to check out your mettle."

He reached the wall and found purchase on its slimy surface. Jaina wasn't  far

behind. Her fingers dug into the gaps between bricks where ancient mortar  had

eroded away. "Up there," Salkeli said. "See?"  Jaina  looked  up  and  to  her

right, and saw an open access cover. Descending from it was  a  rusting  metal

ladder. She followed Salkeli's lead and began to edge her way toward  it.  The

current was stronger here than it had been before, and she had to fight not to

be swept away. From farther down the tunnel she could hear  a  faint  rumbling

sound, like that of a distant roaring. She  guessed  that  either  the  tunnel

continued to narrow the farther  it  went,  or  it  ended  in  an  underground

waterfall of some kind. Either way, she didn't particularly want to find out.

"I'll help you up," Salkeli said, coming up beside her when  she  reached

the base of the ladder.

"That's all right." She nudged him upward with the Force and enjoyed  the

look of surprise on his greert face. "I have something I have to do first." He

ascended the ladder while she reached into her pocket  and  removed  the  bug,

releasing it into the current. She was happy to let the security guards search

through the drainage system to find it. Then she lifted  herself  out  of  the

water, pulling herself up and out into the relatively fresh air.

The sun was rising over the horizon when she scrambled through the access

hatch. Looking around, she could tell  they  had  come  out  in  a  completely

different section of the city than they'd  just  been  in.  The  streets  were

wider, the buildings lower and  better  maintained.  It  looked  more  like  a

warehousing suburb than the abandoned business complex they'd left behind.

"We made it," she said, laughing in relief.

"You ditched the bug?" Jaina nodded, already thinking about  what  to  do

next.

"I think you've helped Freedom enough for one day," Salkeli said.  "Would

you like a lift back into town?" "As  long  as  it  doesn't  involve  swimming

again." He grinned,  motioning  for  her  to  accompany  him  to  the  nearest

building—a low, long container hold. There was a metal  roller  door  securing

the premises. Salkeli tapped a code into the lock and it obligingly  slid  up,

revealing a dusty but serviceable two-seater speeder.

"You're not going to tell me that's yours, are you?" she said.

The Rodian's multifaceted eyes twinkled. "Would you believe me if I did?"

"Well, you know what they say," Jaina said lightly. "A Rodian  always  has  an

escape plan." He smiled at this, gesturing with his long,  green  fingers  for

her to climb aboard while he moved around the back to adjust the  airfoil.  In

the second it took for him to do this, her senses told her that something  had

gone terribly awry—something she hadn't anticipated. But it was too late.  She

was climbing into the speeder when a searing pain caught her in the back.

She turned as she fell, catching a fleeting  glimpse  of  Salkeli  as  he

lowered his blaster.

"Always," she heard him say as darkness claimed her.

She ran as fast as she  could  along  the  mostly  empty  corridors,  not

knowing where she was or where she was going. For all  she  knew—or  cared—she

might have been running in circles. It didn't  matter.  The  only  thing  that

mattered was that she keep running in the hope that it might distract her from

the pain in her mind.

Try as she might, though, she couldn't  outrun  the  memories.  Her  life

seemed to be made up of one long tragedy, from her parents' deaths on Tatooine

to her latest breakdown on Bakura. And, of course, Anakin...

Remember—together, you are stronger than the sum of  your  parts.  Master

Ikrit's last words to her, communicated via the Force, had helped  her  accept

her feelings for Anakin. But it wasn't about  strength;  it  was  about  being

together. She loved Anakin, and always had. As a child, she had loved him as a

friend; then, as they grew older, she had been  learning  to  love  him  as  a

woman. But now, because of the Yuuzhan Vong, because of the voxyn  and  Myrkr,

that love would never be realized.

Her body shook with sobs  as  she  doubled  up,  clutching  her  stomach.

Anakin's absence was like a yawning gulf in her  life,  a  hole  that  nothing

could fill. The future they should have had together would never  happen,  and

nothing could ever take its place. Not even becoming a full  Jedi  Knight  was

any comfort. The Force without him in it was an empty thing.

It's not supposed to be like this! she wanted to shout at  the  universe.

Change it back! Make it right. Make it better. Make the pain go away!

She fell to the floor, rolling tightly into a fetal position, desperately

wanting to push back the pain. Anakin had sacrificed himself for  the  greater

good, and the thought of that only enhanced the love she  felt  for  him.  She

wanted to go back and kiss him that last time, instead of holding off as she'd

done. She wanted to go back and fight at his side, to help  him  overcome  the

Yuuzhan Vong warriors who had ultimately brought him down. She wanted  to  die

with him, because life without him was so incomprehensible.

Memories...

"You aren't immortal," Corran Horn had told  them  on  an  asteroid  near

Yag'Dhul, "and you  aren't  invincible."  "Everybody  gets  a  nasty  surprise

someday," Anakin had replied. "I'd rather get it standing up than lying down."

Memories...

"I've thought about the dark side for most of my life. My mother named me

after the man who became Darth Vader. The Emperor touched me through her womb.

Every night I had nightmares that ended with me  in  my  grandfather's  armor.

With all due respect, I think I've probably thought a lot more about the  dark

side than anyone I know..." Memories...

"You wre scarred up and tattooed like Tsavong  Lah,"  Anakin  said.  "You

were Jedi, but dark. I could feel the darkness radiating from you." "You don't

still think that could happen to me?" she responded, horrified by the  vision.

"How could I? You saved me from them, stopped me before  they  finished."  His

doubt, his fear that she might join the other side and destroy the  Jedi,  had

cut her more deeply than any physical wound she had ever  sustained.  "Anakin,

I'll never join the Yuuzhan Vong Memories...

"Might be simpler if we don't make it."  After  their  first  kiss,  when

there was no going back to the way they'd been before. "Yeah. Are you sorry? "

"No. No, not even a little bit." "So let's survive  so  we  get  a  chance  to

figure this out, okay?" Sobs tore through her like knives. She was so  lonely;

she was so alone. Anakin's family could have been hers, but now  instead  they

were frightened of her. They were suspicious of her  and  tried  to  push  her

away. Everyone was pushing her away. Everyone except  —  "Tahiri?"  The  voice

came from outside her head, beyond her memories. The use of her  name  was  so

unexpected that she was on her feet in an instant, her  lightsaber  crackling,

rising defensively before she'd even seen who had said it. Then, when she  did

look, she couldn't see him properly because of the  film  of  tears  over  her

eyes.

"No, wait!" Whoever it was, he backed nervously away,  arms  outstretched

in a desperate request for her to lower her weapon.

"You come anywhere near me," she hissed, "and so help me I'll—" "I won't,

I promise." She didn't recognize the voice. "I just heard that you were  lost.

That's all. I came to help you." "Help me?"  she  repeated  suspiciously,  the

lightsaber unsteady in her hands. "Why should you help me? You don't even know

me!" "Sure I do," he said. "You're the Jedi-who-was-shaped. You're—" She  felt

the blood drain from her face. "Don't ever  call  me  that!"  He  backed  away

another step as the tip of her lightsaber stabbed toward him. "I'm sorry!"  he

said. "I didn't realize you found it  offensive."  "Well,  I  do,"  she  said,

pouring all of her anger into the words. "It reminds me of things  I'd  sooner

forget." "I can understand that. You are like  us  in  many  respects."  Anger

flared again. He was trying to manipulate her. "Who are you?" "I'm  a  friend.

We met back at the spaceport, remember?"  "The  Ryn?"  She  blinked  back  the

moisture covering her eyes and looked more closely at the being before her. He

was gray-skinned and had a beak for a nose. A prehensile tail lashed  the  air

behind him. There was a smell about him, too: a smell that was inherent to his

species.

"It is you," she said with some surprise, sensing  his  familiarity  even

though she'd never seen his face before.

He nodded. "The name is Goure," he said, trying  to  force  a  smile  but

clearly finding it difficult with her lightsaber still raised  toward  him.  "

Look, could we put that away for  now?  I  think  we  might  attract  unwanted

attention." With some embarrassment, Tahiri realized that they  were  standing

in a public access way. At the other end of the corridor, people were starting

to gather, staring curiously at the Jedi and the Ryn. She quickly  deactivated

her lightsaber and reattached it to her belt.

"I'm sorry," she said, appalled by her  foolishness.  "I'm  not  thinking

straight at the moment." Goure shrugged good-naturedly. "It's  nothing  to  be

ashamed of," he said sotto voce. "Come, follow me and I'll take us to a  place

where we won't have an audience. But try not to make it seem as though you are

following me, okay? I'm a servant; you must order  me  to  lead."  She  nodded

slowly. "I was lost, and you are taking me home." "Exactly." He rearranged his

body under the simple gray robes he wore so he was hunched forward, as  though

with age. "This way." She followed him with head held high and her  expression

devoid of any of the emotions she'd felt  just  moments  earlier.  She  pushed

through the crowd at the end of the corridor, her cold stare daring anyone  to

obstruct her. It took all her  control  of  the  Force  to  placate  the  more

curious, and the irony wasn't lost on her that she  couldn't  apply  the  same

trick to herself. Behind the facade, her mind was still very much in turmoil.

Goure led her through the  corridors  and  malls  of  Salis  D'aar,  past

floating statues and elegant fountains. Plant life encroached heavily  on  the

city, thriving in the thick air and fertile soils. Tree trunks snaked  through

carefully arranged holes in the pavement and walls, their  vine-covered  coils

diverting the  eye  from  security  checkpoints,  public  comm  stations,  and

information outlets. In some places, Salis D'aar seemed so  heavily  overgrown

that it looked like the jungle was taking over, but ferrocrete was strong  and

resisted the tide of root and tendril with stubborn defiance. The  city  would

last awhile yet; it was civilization's strongest bastion in its battle against

nature.

"Here," Goure said, waving her ahead into a narrow corridor  between  two

ornamental statues. She did as he told her without hesitation or question;  he

projected no sense of threat or danger. After looking up and down the corridor

behind  them,  he  followed.  When  inside,  he  flicked  a  switch;  a  small

holoprojector flickered to life, covering the entrance with  the  illusion  of

solid wall.

"It won't actually keep anyone out," Goure said,  walking  ahead  of  her

along the corridor, "but it'll at least stop them from stumbling  in  on  us."

"Is security looking for me?" she asked.

"Oh, no. This is nothing to do with you." His tail  coiled  and  uncoiled

restlessly. "We just prefer not to leave too many odd connections in our wake,

that's all." The room at the end of the corridor  was  empty  apart  from  two

simple chairs and a low box. Bare stone walls and a single, naked light source

leant it a forbidding air, but Tahiri didn't feel threatened by the Ryn at her

back. He radiated nothing but surety and reliability.

"Take a seat." He fished around in the box and produced two scuffed metal

cups and a bottle of water. Tahiri eased herself into the chair closest to the

entrance, thankful to be resting her feet. She felt drained right to the  very

core of her being, as though she had been running for days.

He offered her a cup of the water, which she gratefully accepted. It felt

good and refreshing in her mouth, and she closed her eyes in  appreciation  as

she sipped it.

"What happened to your arms?" Goure indicated the scars  showing  beneath

her thin tunic.

"Nothing," she answered uneasily, folding her arms in a way that hid  the

self-inflicted wounds from back on Mon Cal. There was nothing she could do  to

hide the marks on her forehead. "What time is it?" she  asked  to  change  the

subject.

"A couple of hours before  dawn."  That  surprised  her—although  it  did

explain her exhaustion. She didn't want to ask the next question, but she  had

to in order to  ease  her  mind.  "What  have  I  been  doing?"  Goure  looked

sympathetic. "You haven't hurt anyone, if that's what you're  worried  about."

"You said you'd heard that I was lost." A useful euphemism, she thought. "How?

" "I have many means of learning what's going on," he said. "I'm a Ryn.  We're

ignored at best. We work on the lowest rungs of society, doing the jobs no one

else wants to do. That allows me to get into places and  gives  me  access  to

information most people wouldn't even know existed. I listen to  gossip,  scan

the security frequencies, go through the trash—" She  inadvertently  pulled  a

face, which made him smile. "Yeah, I know. It's not the most glamorous of jobs

at times, but I get results. Anyway, your name came up in a  security  report.

They were watching you carefully, unsure what you were up  to.  I  thought  it

might be best to get to you before they decided to bring you in." He shrugged.

"It wasn't difficult to work out where you were and where you might be headed.

" She hated to think what she might have done had the security  guards  closed

in on her at any point during her strange fugue state. The feelings  of  anger

and hurt had been so overwhelming; she may well have used those  guards  as  a

means to vent her emotions.

Still, Goure had said that she hadn't hurt anyone. That was something  to

be grateful for, at least.

"What about Han and Leia?" she asked. "Do they know?"  "They  have  other

things to worry about, I'm afraid." The Ryn's expression  turned  serious.  "A

warrant for Jaina's arrest was released shortly after midnight." "What?  Why?"

"Security droids caught images of her helping Malinza Thanas escape from where

she was being held. She's been charged with aiding and  abetting,  along  with

sedition—or she will be, when they find her. She's listed as being  armed  and

dangerous. Guards are to use force if necessary." The news shocked Tahiri  out

of concern for herself. Jaina on the run? Her first thought was to  help.  The

tug of the family she'd nearly had was strong, but not as strong as the sudden

sense of warning that rushed through her.

I called you Riina.

It came back to her in a rush: Leia's face in the gloom of  the  bedroom,

the silver pendant — Jaina told me what Jag found.

She reached into the pocket of her robe and felt the pendant,  its  bumps

and edges worn by Yuuzhan Vong  claws.  The  Peace  Brigade  had  left  it  on

Galantos, probably by accident. It had fallen under a bed  in  the  diplomatic

wing, where the Brigaders had been staying. Something about  the  pendant  had

called to her, triggering her instincts They told her that something  was  up;

there was more to Galantos than met the eye. Searching, she'd  been  drawn  to

the pendant's dusty hiding place and — She's hiding something—from herself  as

well as everyone else...

Then she had blacked out. When she had woken, the pendant had  gone.  Jag

must have found it and passed it on to Jaina, who had aired her suspicions  to

her mother.  All  the  while,  the  pendant  had  nagged  at  Tahiri  like  an

unscratchable itch, preoccupying her mind, calling out to her...

No. Not her. It was calling out to Riina of Domain Kwaad—the monster  the

Yuuzhan Vong had tried to turn her into!

Somehow, the Riina personality is still inside you.

A deep darkness rose up in her mind, threatening to consume  her—just  as

it had so many times before. She fought it now as she had then, fighting  down

the persona that kept trying to take her over.

I am not Riina! I am Tahiri Veila! Despite her determination, her  mental

voice sounded feeble. I am a Jedi!

The darkness receded and she sagged back into the chair with a sob.  What

was she going to do? If the slightest  hint  of  Yuuzhan  Vong  was  going  to

destabilize her so deeply, how could she possibly hope to be of use in the war

against the enemy? And what if Riina took over  completely?  What  then  would

become of her and the people around her?

"Tahiri?" Despite the softness of the voice,  it  cut  sharply  into  her

thoughts, startling her. So relieved was she to hear her  own  name  that  she

suddenly burst into tears.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Tahiri. Are you okay?" Lost in  her  thoughts,  she  had

forgotten all about Goure, the Ryn. He was crouched down before her  now,  his

powerful scent filling her nostrils, thrusting deep into the old places of her

mind, forcing itself into the spaces buried beneath her thoughts. It seemed to

sweep out the cobwebs  as  it  went,  working  its  way  through  the  tangled

corridors of her mind like a powerful cleansing wind.

Jaina couldn't be blamed for the position Tahiri was in. Nor  could  Jag,

or Anakin's parents. There was only  one  person  responsible,  and  that  was

herself. She had to be the one to prove to everyone that she could be trusted,

that she was the one in control and not Riina.

"Don't be sorry," she said to the anxious Ryn. She wiped the  tears  from

her face and quashed down the  darkness  still  threatening  to  rise  to  the

surface. The pendant was in her hand, and she pushed it back  into  the  inner

pocket of her robes where she didn't have to look at it. "Just help me  rescue

my friend." "That I will," the Ryn said, his tail snapping like a  whip.  "The

first thing we have to do, though, is find out  if  they've  caught  her.  The

warrant only mentioned Jaina, so Han and Leia might be in the clear  for  now.

But I can't be certain. We'll need to be closer to things in order to keep  an

eye on them." "I'll do whatever it takes," she said determinedly. "I just want

to put things right." "And the best way to do that is with my help, if  you're

willing to stick with me awhile  longer."  She  met  his  gaze  with  all  the

strength she could muster. Part of her wanted to go straight back to  Han  and

Leia, to try to repair the damage, but another part  of  her  was  nervous  of

doing that just yet. Not until  she  was  certain  of  where  she  stood.  And

besides, she told herself, if she could find more about what the Ryn  were  up

to, that would stand her in good stead when she did go back. It was  important

who was helping them, and why.

Goure nodded as though in approval.

"Very well, Tahiri Veila." He rose to his feet. "The first thing  1  need

you to do is to wait here. You can't go wandering around looking  like  that."

She looked down at her robe and frowned. "Like what?" "Like you. Even if  they

weren't already watching you, they certainly wouldn't let you walk freely into

where we need to go. The trick to being like us, you  see,  is  to  make  sure

you're not noticed." "I need a disguise, right?" He nodded, smiling. "I  won't

be long, I promise." "How long?" she asked quickly, standing. The emptiness of

the room was already crowding in around her. There  would  be  nothing  to  do

while he was gone, no distractions from her thoughts. The idea of being on her

own in an unfamiliar city put her even more on  edge.  What  if  the  security

guards came for her? What if Goure didn't come back?

"Try not to be scared, Tahiri. You'll be all right." She could tell  from

the hesitant movements of his hands that  he  would  like  to  reach  out  and

reassure her physically, but was reluctant to do so.  Probably,  she  figured,

because he was worried she might have another panic episode and  threaten  him

with her lightsaber again.

"I-I'm just worried about being alone,  that's  all."  She  looked  down,

embarrassed by the admission. It was a weakness, and did not become  the  Jedi

Knight she was supposed to be. "I feel  very  lost  right  now."  "We  have  a

saying," Goure said. " 'In the darkest hole you can always  find  some  light.

You just have to open your eyes to see it.' " "We also  have  a  saying,"  she

responded. " ' The darker the shadow, the brighter the light that  casts  it.'

'' "Very wise," he said, nodding. "But tell me, Tahiri  Veila:  when  you  say

'we,' do you mean the Jedi or the Sand People?" She smiled at  the  memory  of

the first time Sliven said those words to her. "The Sand  People,"  she  said.

"And what about you: Ryn or Bakuran?" "Ryn." His beak twitched for  a  moment,

then broke into an unusual smile, as though he'd been amused by some  profound

joke. His hand reached out carefully to touch her shoulder. "I won't be  long,

Tahiri." She nodded briefly and then  he  was  gone,  hurrying  up  the  short

corridor and disappearing through the holographic illusion hanging across  the

entrance. The city murmured through the stone walls, distantly,  impersonally.

It didn't care about her—who she was, what she wanted, or whether her  friends

lived or died. Its coldness was, oddly, a remedy for her dour mood,  reminding

her that in the larger scheme of things, perhaps, it simply didn't matter  who

she was.

But it did matter. If she gave in to Riina  and  Anakin's  vision  became

fact, who would stand up against the Yuu-zhan Vong then? Life  in  the  galaxy

would vanish under a creeping tide of darkness that no dawn could ever hope to

dispel.

She shook her head to clear her mind of the thought and sat  cross-legged

on the stone floor to wait for Goure's return. With a grim determination,  she

fell into a Jedi rejuvenation trance. It had been a long time since she'd last

slept, and she was going to need her resilience. Her body must be strong,  she

told herself, her senses sharp; her concentration was a crystal spear, cutting

through the layers of deception to the truth beneath...

A  worm  of  doubt  burrowed  into  the  trance,  however,  as  something

unsettling occurred to her. No matter where she went, she could never again be

the same. There would always be Riina at the back of her mind, trying to  come

forward. There would always be that question niggling at her thoughts: Who  am

I, really? How could she live a life like that, let alone get through one more

day?

I am Tahiri Veila, she told herself again, Jedi Knight and child  of  the

Sand People. I will prevail!

Or I'll die trying...

The audience was not going well.

"Yu'shaa, your word spreads farther with every  day,  yet  still  we  are

reviled. We are beaten and killed as we have always been. How  long  until  we

will be free to be as we were?" Nom Anor replied: "We will only be  free  when

the un-Shamed accept us as their equals, as we are in the eyes  of  the  gods.

Our Message—the philosophy of the Jeedai — will persuade them if we spread  it

far enough. If it doesn't convince them we then will make them accept it,  and

us with it. Only then will we achieve our goal." He paused significantly.  "It

is a hard road, I know—but it is one that must be walked." "But if we do  Yun-

Yuuzhan's work, then his will must become clear to the enemy, too. Surely they

would come to see the truths the Jeedai bring?" "You can show a  blind  person

something a thousand times and he will never see it; you can speak  a  message

to a deaf person until the universe turns cold and she will never hear it. So,

too, it is with our enemies. Only those who are open to the truth will  accept

the truth that the Jeedai  bring.  Moreover,  those  who  do  not,  those  who

continue to espouse a perverted philosophy of pain  and  pointless  sacrifice,

these are the ones who must in turn be  sacrificed.  Redemption  can  only  be

achieved by those with the capacity to be redeemed." The  questioning  acolyte

nodded slowly, unsurely, as though Nom Anor's answer only partially  satisfied

her. Nom Anor studied the Shamed One closely, seeking anything that  made  her

stand out from the rest of the  congregation.  The  usual  procession  of  the

disabled and the sick was increasingly diluted by numbers of the hale and  the

higher-ranked, all dissatisfied with  the  status  quo  on  the  surface.  But

despite the mass of scars and failed bio-implants that marked this  particular

member of the congregation as a Shamed One, Nom Anor couldn't  help  but  feel

there was something that set her apart from the others. Dressed  in  unadorned

robes, she was slender without being skinny. Her eyes  were  filled  with  the

furious intelligence of one consumed with doubt. She lacked  the  bent,  cowed

frame possessed by so many of the usual penitents.

"But, Master," the acolyte went on, "what if one  of  the  enemy  was  to

question the ways he'd been taught? A lifetime of lies is difficult to  fight—

especially if the truth is hidden from him. The enemy you  revile  hears  only

that which he is told, filtered through many ears and mouths  along  the  way.

The message is distorted, clouded by those who are indeed your enemy, who will

ascribe to you all manner of heresy simply in order to damn you. What  of  the

one who wishes to hear the truth, but cannot obtain it? Is ignorance an excuse

in Yun-Yuuzhan's eyes?" Nom Anor's eyes narrowed behind his  ooglith  masquer.

"Our mission should be to reach all Yuuzhan Vong, regardless of caste or rank,

in order that they may have the chance to see the truth.  We  start  at  lower

echelons not only because they are easiest to access, but  also  because  they

are the most numerous. We see the greatest need among  them."  "The  need  for

freedom is not the same as the need for redemption, though, Master." "One does

not come without the other." "No, but should you amass every one of the Shamed

Ones and all the disaffected, you would still be fighting those at the top who

wield overwhelming power over the instruments of state. It would take years to

overthrow them—years I don't believe we have. Even as we speak, plans are  put

into motion to eradicate your movement and trample your dreams into the dust."

The congregation was transfixed, now. Nom Anor, too, was filled with a  morbid

fascination. This was no ordinary penitent. She spoke too  well,  had  thought

the issue through too thoroughly, and she didn't  just  regurgitate  the  same

vacuous questions that so often spilled from the mouths of those who  came  to

see the Prophet, all looking for the answers that simply didn't exist  in  the

real world. No, this one had seen the problems Nom  Anor  grappled  with,  and

considered them carefully. And, like Nom Anor, she'd only been able to come up

with incomplete solutions—if any at all.

There had been others with minds as keen as this. Kunra and Shoon-mi  had

taken them aside for training as disciples, taught them the lessons  that  Nom

Anor wanted preached, and then sent them back out into the world to spread the

Message further among the masses. There were six such disciples now,  and  Nom

Anor knew he would need many more if  he  were  to  reach  all  of  those  who

hungered for redemption. More like the Shamed One before him today.

But the doubt in those eyes...

No, thought Nom Anor again: this was no ordinary penitent.

"We hear rumors of countermeasures," he said,  choosing  his  words  with

caution. He would have liked to clear the room to end this  one's  challenging

questions, but that would be seen as a sign of doubt. "We have made efforts to

ascertain the truth behind them." "But  those  efforts  have  failed."  "Yes."

"They have also been noticed." Nom Anor fixed his stare upon the acolyte for a

few lingering seconds before responding. "Of course. But there is nothing else

we can do." "There are always alternatives, Master. Attacking a stronghold  is

pointless when it is unassailable. It must be weakened from  within."  "Easier

said than done," Nom Anor returned. "How are we to achieve this when we cannot

enter it?" How have you turned this around, he wanted to  ask,  that  you  now

have me asking the questions?

"You must wait for the opportunity to come to you,"  the  penitent  said.

"And when it does, you must take that opportunity and  use  it  to  your  best

advantage." There was  complete  silence  in  the  room.  At  last,  Nom  Anor

understood.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she responded. "I am here, and I wish to  join  you.  I

think—and I am coming to believe-that you hold the answers  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

have come to the galaxy in search of.  Or  if  not  you,  then  certainly  the

Jeedai. The gods no longer speak through those who claim to  speak  for  them,

and I no longer wish to be the enemy of the truth." Nom Anor saw the sincerity

in the words, even as he understood their fragility. Here was one who  thought

like him. This was not the mind of a simple  follower,  consumed  by  passions

little nobler than those of animals. No, this was  a  higher  mind,  like  Nom

Anor's. Those who looked  to  Yun-Yuuzhan  for  answers  would  invariably  be

disappointed because, even if the gods did exist, why wouldn't the truths they

served be infinitely more complex than those any mere mortal could  ever  hope

to understand?

The penitent's face showed none of this, but that was  because  the  face

was as false as Nom Anor's own. She,  too,  was  wearing  an  ooglith  masquer

designed to give the appearance of a Shamed One. All was illusion, deception..

.

Could this be the one? Nom Anor wondered.  Could  this  be  the  link  to

Shimrra I've been waiting for? He wasn't so naive  as  to  hope  for  a  high-

ranking warrior or intendant. They were all thoroughly brainwashed.  A  simple

servant would be enough—someone who had access to the private places he  could

no longer see; someone who could overhear the meetings at which policies  were

decided. With a spy right in the heart of the Supreme Overlord's inner circle,

he could indeed eat away at his enemy from within, just as  the  penitent  had

said, using the knowledge gained from such a source to direct his campaign—and

all the while recruiting others to reduce his reliance on that one person.

But how could he trust someone without knowing  her  name?  What  if  the

penitent had been deliberately planted by Shimrra to spread false  information

about his intentions? Did the Supreme Overlord  have  the  capacity  for  such

subtlety?

Doubt flowered in his gut.

"Come closer," he said, motioning the penitent forward. He could feel the

weight of the entire audience's stare upon him. They  were  present  during  a

significant moment, and they knew it. How he handled the next few minutes  was

vital.

The  penitent  approached  within  arm's  reach—close  enough   to   kill

honorably, Nom Anor thought. He waved her closer  still,  until  their  mouths

were at each other's ears.

"How do I know I can believe you?" Nom Anor whispered.

"You can believe me." The  penitent's  voice  was  little  more  than  an

expelled breath. "The gods have brought me this far, have they not?" Nom  Anor

pulled back slightly to stab his steely gaze into  the  penitent's  eyes.  "We

screen for infiltrators, not for piety." Those eyes smiled back at  Nom  Anor.

"I pass on both counts, then." "Perhaps," Nom Anor said. "But we  are  not  so

foolish as to believe that we will catch every spy that comes  our  way.  They

come in all shapes and sizes, and they present  many  different  faces."  "You

would know more about that than I, Nom Anor," the  penitent  whispered.  "That

was your specialty, after all." Nom Anor went cold, pushing the penitent  away

from him. "How—?" "I recognized you as soon as  I  saw  you—even  behind  your

ooglith masquer." The eyes of the penitent didn't leave his; they were  filled

with something approximating  triumph,  as  though  Nom  Anor's  reaction  had

confirmed what had until that moment  been  only  a  guess.  "It  didn't  seem

possible, at first; we'd been told you were dead. But the more I  listened  to

you speak, the more sure I became that it was you. Audacity and surprise  were

always your hallmarks, Nom Anor. When Shimrra cast  you  out—"  "Enough!"  Nom

Anor pushed her farther away, as he would repel  something  unclean.  "I  have

heard enough!" He looked around desperately for Kunra and Shoon-mi.  They  had

planned for such an eventuality; there were contingencies.  They  should  have

been sealing off the room and preparing for slaughter; there  was  no  way  he

could allow anyone to leave this room now that his true name had been spoken.

But they weren't moving. They stood at the  back  by  the  door,  looking

puzzled. They hadn't heard the peni-tent's whisper! They didn't know what  was

going on!

The penitent was determined.  "Wait,"  she  said,  pushing  forward,  one

gnarled hand reaching under her robes. "I have something for  you."  Nom  Anor

reacted instinctively. There wasn't time to think. Someone who recognized  him

was threat enough; the slightest suggestion that a weapon might  be  drawn  on

him was enough to make him act.

Blood rushed to the muscles around his left eye socket.  Pressure  peaked

where the eyeball had once been. He felt a short, sharp pain as  his  plaeryin

bol exploded, spitting poisoned darts into the face of the penitent.

With a harsh cry, his attacker fell backward onto the ground.

The audience erupted. Nom Anor fell back against his throne, his  muscles

turned to jelly. He heard screaming, confusion, cries  for  order.  Inside  he

felt only emptiness. He had come so close to death. The plaeryin bol where his

left eye had once been had saved him, as he had always  known  it  would,  one

day. But he also knew that the respite was only  temporary.  An  assassin  had

been sent to destroy him, and he had come so close. Others  would  follow;  he

would never be safe again!

He forced himself up, to think, to act. Kunra and Shoon-mi  were  getting

the crowd in order, looking to him for instructions. At his feet, the penitent

writhed as the paralyzing poison seared through her  system.  Nom  Anor  knelt

beside her and pressed his claws  on  either  side  of  the  penitent's  nose,

looking for the pressure point that would cause the ooglith masquer to release

itself. He didn't care if the creature took off half the spy's face. He had to

know who it was that Shimrra had sent; he had to  look  at  the  face  of  his

would-be assassin.

The ooglith masquer came away with a grotesque noise, like that of fabric

tearing. Underneath was a face more familiar than Nom Anor  had  expected.  It

didn't belong to a guard or a nameless servitor. Far from it.

The penitent was Ngaaluh, a priestess of the deception sect. He  knew  of

her from the sect's attempts to infiltrate the infidels in the  past.  He  had

seen her in the company of Harrar, another priest rising in Shimrra's court.

"You?" Nom Anor frowned deeply. "Why you?" "I—" Ngaaluh's eyes were  wide

and frightened, the bluish sacks beneath them almost invisible. The poison was

sending fire through her nervous system, making breathing difficult. Soon  her

heart would stop, and it would all be over. Through the pain, she  was  trying

to say something. She reached up, but Nom Anor flinched away.

Then he looked again as something spilled out of the priestess's  failing

three-fingered grasp. It wasn't a weapon, as Nom Anor had suspected. It was  a

living unrik—a chunk of  tissue  excised  from  Ngaaluh's  body  as  a  votive

offering to her gods. Kept alive by  biotechnology,  the  unrik  served  as  a

symbol of Ngaaluh's servitude—and she had been offering it to Nom Anor!

"You fool!" He knelt over Ngaaluh as the priestess's body began to shake.

There was an antidote to the plae-ryin bol poison, but he had  never  expected

to use it. The neural pathways were rusty, and he had to concentrate  to  stir

the buried bioconstruct to life.  The  knuckle  of  his  right  thumb  snapped

straight with a click. He bit down on a gasp as a searing pain burned  in  the

joint. A hair-thin needle extruded from  under  the  claw.  He  slid  it  into

Ngaaluh's neck where the vein still throbbed.  There  was  more  pain  as  the

antivenin shot into the priestess's bloodstream, but it was  nothing  compared

to that suffered by the female before him. Nom Anor held Ngaaluh down as every

muscle went into spasm, burning energy in  one  final  paroxysm  of  agony.  A

keening, hissing sound escaped the priestess's clenched  jaw,  growing  louder

with each spasm.

Then, suddenly, the priestess went limp. Fearing the worst, Nom Anor bent

over her.

"Yu'shaa..." The word was  little  more  than  a  sigh,  and  with  that,

Ngaaluh's eyes  closed.  Nom  Anor  pressed  his  hand  to  the  spot  on  the

priestess's throat where he'd injected the antidote.  Despite  appearances  to

the contrary, the faint, lingering pulse  was  testimony  to  the  priestess's

continuing existence in the world.

He looked up. The members of the audience were staring at  him  in  alarm

and amazement. How much they understood of what had just taken place he didn't

know, but he doubted that any of them would come close to  grasping  its  true

import. The gods had provided the answer to Nom Anor's prayers, in the form of

the priestess — and he'd almost killed her!

The unrik rested beside Ngaaluh's unconscious form. Nom  Anor  picked  it

up. It was warm and pulsed gently in his grasp. Ngaaluh must  have  stolen  it

from the high priest's sanctum sanctorum before coming to offer it to the  new

gods. How and why she had come to believe in them, Nom Anor couldn't  imagine.

Nevertheless, he knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he did not intend to

pass this one up.

He indicated for Shoon-mi to come to him. His servant did so immediately,

pushing his way through the agitated  crowd.  "Master,  is  everything  well?"

"This acolyte is to be given the best care we can offer." Which  wasn't  much,

given their meager resources, but it was better than nothing at all.  "She  is

important, Shoon-mi. Do you understand? Nothing is to happen to her." Shoon-mi

bowed. "It shall be so, Master." The Shamed One scurried away  to  organize  a

stretcher.

Nom Anor gestured for Kunra next. The  ex-warrior  came  and  knelt  down

beside him so he could whisper.

"What has happened?" he asked. "Who is this female?" "She is a priestess,

and close to Shimrra. I knew her before my fall. She named me, Kunra." The ex-

warrior's eyes widened, and Nom Anor knew that he understood the  significance

of that fact. " But I think we can trust her. She has given me... assurances."

The slow throbbing of the unrik matched the pulse visible in the great vein in

Ngaaluh's neck.

"She could be just what we need," Kunra said.

"Exactly. But first we have to make sure  that  no  one  overheard."  The

members of the audience were growing more restless by  the  second,  shuffling

aimlessly and muttering among themselves.

"I should take precautions, perhaps?" "No."  Nom  Anor  knew  that  Kunra

would happily kill all the penitents to ensure their safety, but  that  wasn't

an optimal solution. Ngaaluh would wonder what had happened to  them,  and  so

would Shoon-mi. "We can't afford to waste resources, or to  provide  fuel  for

rumors. If they all disappear, some will be missed. Belter to find out  if  my

secret is safe and let them go. Who knows? Maybe it will work in  our  favor."

"Feeding the legend," Kunra mused, then nodded once. "It shall be  done."  Nom

Anor stood to address  the  crowd.  "This  is  an  auspicious  day!"  he  said

dramatically, knowing that the truth was too  dangerous  to  reveal.  "I  have

survived an attack and am stronger for it. Go, now, and tell everyone! It will

take more than this to keep  us  from  the  respect  we  deserve!"  The  crowd

accepted this pronouncement with some uncertainty, but accept it they did.  He

had delivered the bulk of  his  message  before  Ngaaluh's  interrogation  had

thrown him off. They had heard everything they needed to hear. Once Kunra  had

satisfied himself that they hadn't heard anything else, they would be  allowed

to leave to begin their missionary work.

"Our time draws ever nearer," he said to them as they began to file  out.

"And with the events of this day, it might come sooner than even I expected...

" "I'm going to melt if it gets any hotter in here," Tahiri said,  wiping  her

brow with the back of her hand.

"Adjust the ventilation controls," Goure said, his muffled  voice  coming

from within his own hostile environment suit.  A  super-strong  exoskeleton  a

meter taller than he was, the HE-suit hid his  face  behind  a  collection  of

droid sensors and allowed him to use its superior strength for any  manner  of

distasteful chores. Tahiri's own suit was identical  to  his—painted  a  dull,

metallic brown with scuffed ident markings on back and chest — and she watched

the world through a bewildering array of views and senses. She felt as  though

she were wearing an ancient suit of armor. "Turn the thermostat down  and  you

should start to feel better." "It's already down as  far  as  it'll  go,"  she

said. They could have communicated by comlink, but Goure had  said  he  didn't

want to take the risk of being overheard. The suits had external speakers  and

microphones and they did the job well enough—unlike her air-conditioning unit.

She jabbed at the controls with her chin, trying to blink away the  salty

sweat stinging her eyes. Having grown up among the Sand People, she  was  used

to being enclosed in hot environments—but this was ridiculous.

Something thumped her from behind, followed by a distinct click.  A  flow

of icy air instantly rushed through the suit, offering a relief  that  was  so

intense that Tahiri could only sigh her thanks.

"Your coolant line was clogged," said  Arrizza,  the  Kurtzen  sanitation

worker who accompanied them on their long turbolift ride. Goure had  described

him as a part-time conspirator, but not  part  of  the  Ryn  network.  He  had

explored the inner workings of the Bakuran Senate Complex with no interest  in

taking it further. Having no political agenda, he  was  quite  happy  to  help

Goure get Tahiri in and out of the complex without being noticed.

"I think you just  saved  my  life,"  Tahiri  said  only  half  jokingly,

wriggling in her suit to help the cool  air  reach  every  centimeter  of  her

sweat-soaked body. Her HE-suit—designed to take  minuscule  movements  of  her

limbs and magnify them, giving her increased strength and flexibility—made odd

half-stepping motions as she did so.

" I once knew someone who died from overheating  on  the  job,"  was  the

Kurtzen's reply. "You got to look out for each other down  here."  She  didn't

quite know what to say in the face of his gruff pragmatism. "Thanks," she said

after a moment. "I'll try to remember that." The turbolift clanked to  a  halt

and the wide steel cage opened before  them.  Arrizza  went  first,  his  suit

scruffier than Goure's, if that was possible. The only real difference between

them was a belt of leather  pouches  tied  around  its  waist.  Tools,  Tahiri

presumed—although she doubted the suit's stubby fingers could handle  anything

so small with any precision.

They walked in single file along the sub-basement access corridor. It was

easily high and wide enough for the  HE-suits,  designed  to  accommodate  all

sorts of maintenance machines. None of them droids, of  course,  she  reminded

herself—not with Bakura's distaste for automated machinery. If droids couldn't

do the dirty work, people had to. Hence the suits they were wearing.

Arrizza was taking them to another turbolift that led directly under  the

main Senate chambers. There they could enter the complex itself, avoiding  the

tight security employed by the normal entrances. As part of  a  waste  cleanup

crew performing  the  usual  morning  rounds,  they  would  be  able  to  move

unobserved—or at least unhindered — through the lower levels of  the  complex.

They might not get into the Senate chamber itself, but they should be able  to

access the internal data networks with relative ease.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked.

"No. Security has been on edge since Cundertol's  kidnapping.  I  haven't

worked out who was behind it, but I know it wasn't Malinza Thanas. That's  not

her style." "Then who?" "I'm not  sure."  After  walking  awhile  in  silence,

Tahiri switched to a private channel and ventured another question.

"You always get around in these  things?"  she  asked  as  they  trundled

along, steel boots clomping heavily on the reinforced floor.  "There  must  be

easier ways to travel." "Unfortunately the security scare  has  shut  down  my

usual sources," he said. "Especially with the  arrival  of  the  Keeramak  and

today's ceremony. It's crude, I know, but it's all I have left for now. I just

hope  it  doesn't  result  in  me  getting  caught  and  my  activities  being

discovered." 'What would happen if you were discovered? Would you be replaced?

" "Once word got out, then yes, another of my kind would be  sent  to  replace

me." " But how would word get out? If communications are down  like  they  are

now, I can't see how that could be possible." "Well, the  first  thing  we  do

when we arrive at our posts is set up plans to cover such  emergencies.  Those

of  my  family  don't  use  the  Force;  nor  do  we  rely   on   conventional

communications. That, you see, is our strength. We get into places  we're  not

supposed to simply because we are ignored, not by virtue of arcane  technology

or powers, which people are always looking for. In the same way, who notices a

note or two slipped into a cargo manifest? A whisper from a dock handler to  a

droid? Or a story innocently exchanged in a tavern? Even during communications

embargoes, Bakura receives its fair share of freighters and traders.  Everyone

needs repulsors. I use the simplest and most universal techniques of spreading

my word via those travelers. It may be slow at times, but  it  is  effective."

Tahiri fumbled with the concept. "Are you telling me you're  sort  of  a  pan-

galactic gossipmonger?" "You make it sound like a  bad  thing.  It's  actually

very effective. If one of my regular messages fails to  arrive  at  a  certain

place at a certain time every day, then a message will be sent to the next Ryn

along the chain, who will request  a  replacement."  "Who  from?"  Tahiri  was

unable to suppress her curiosity about the Ryn network.  Their  existence  had

been completely unsuspected until Galantos, but their influence seemed  to  be

as insidious as the Peace Brigaders had been.

Goure chuckled softly. "I can't tell  you  too  much,  Tahiri.  A  secret

organization can only operate efficiently if its workings remain secret. Since

you already know we exist, I can tell you that we Ryn don't  have  a  strictly

hier-archal system like the Jedi. We do have, however, a leader who ultimately

receives the information each of us supplies. It is he who makes all the major

decisions." "Does your leader have a name?" "Of course. But to reveal it would

compromise his safety. Toward this end not even we know his real identity.  We

know that someone perceived  the  need  for  such  a  network  of  information

seekers; it was that same someone who trained me—and many  others  like  me—in

the art of infiltration and sent us to our posts. Mark my words: a  time  will

come when there will be songs sung about him, if they aren't  already."  Goure

stopped as they reached the second turbolift. It was as battered and well used

as everything else on this level. With a deep groan it slid  open;  when  they

were inside it lurched upward. Tahiri found her hands reaching for  the  sides

to steady herself; every muscle tensed uneasily. She distracted  herself  with

another question.

"How can songs be sung about someone who  has  no  name?"  A  noise  like

wheezing issued from Goure's HE-suit speakers that, while it  might  not  have

particularly sounded like it, Tahiri knew nonetheless to be a  laugh.  "You're

so practical, aren't you?" Before  he  could  answer  her  question,  however,

Arrizza had raised a hand and waved the two of them to silence.

"We're almost there," he said. "Remember the arrangement." Tahiri  nodded

inside her all-encompassing helmet. From now on, they  were  to  address  each

other only as Yon, Gaitzi, and Scod, members of an underground  cleaning  gang

nicknamed the Tripod.

The lift platform grated to a halt a second later, and the massive  doors

slid open  again,  revealing  another  service  corridor  that  seemed  little

different from the one they'd left below—except this one terminated in  a  set

of thick blast doors after only a few meters. Tahiri followed  Arrizza  as  he

approached it, imitating the  heavy  lope  of  his  HE-suit  in  the  hope  of

radiating the impression that she was as comfortable in the  bulky  outfit  as

she would have been in normal clothing.

"Identify," a voice blared from the other side of the door.  Laser  beams

tracked the suits, reading ident codes painted in various reflective paints.

"Tripod duty," Arrizza said in a bored tone. After only  a  few  seconds'

waiting, he added gruffly, "Come on, Schifil! Let us in, will you?  I  haven't

got all day." "And so much important work to do, eh?"  The  double  door  slid

open with a hydraulic hiss. "There's a block in Compactor J earmarked for your

attention, Yon. You must've been a bad boy last night." Arrizza  just  grunted

as he led them past the security checkpoint.  Two  guards  in  an  open  booth

watched them pass, weapons slung across their laps and smirks on their  faces.

The HE-suits could have crushed them like bugs, but physical strength  was  no

match for superior social status.

Tahiri filed subserviently past, putting a  hunched  sway  to  her  heavy

lurch that she thought suitable for a low-grade worker. So focused was she  on

her performance that it took her a moment to realize that one  of  the  guards

was talking to her.

She stopped, turning slowly, using the seconds to reach into the  guard's

mind to discover that he thought he was talking to the cleaner called Gaitzi.

"Got a kiss for me today, Gaitzi?" the guard asked, puckering grotesquely

while his partner laughed.

Tahiri improvised a suitably moist smacking sound with  her  lips  before

turning away and moving on.

"Delightful," Goure muttered once they had  cleared  the  checkpoint  and

were safely following Arrizza  into  the  underbelly  of  the  Bakuran  Senate

Complex. "It never ceases to amaze me  what  happens  to  the  males  of  most

species when you give them a gun and put them in a uniform."  "I  suppose  the

male Ryn are above all that, are they?" Tahiri said dryly.

"Actually, we are!" he defended  indignantly.  "That's  why  we  work  in

secrecy, with no fancy titles or privileges. We exist  to  oppose  such  self-

aggrandizing methods used by groups like the Peace Brigade. In fact, rumor has

it that our founder was inspired by the Great River—the network of safe houses

and escape routes founded by Master Skywalker in order to save the  Jedi  from

betrayal." "Is that why the Ryn helped us back on  Galantos?"  "News  of  what

happened there has yet to filter down to me," he said. " But yes, if the Peace

Brigade were there then we would have done what we could to resist them.  Look

on it as our contribution to the war effort. We can't take on the Yuuzhan Vong

directly—not even we could infiltrate their society—so we aim lower, at  those

who rot the Galactic Alliance from within." "A second line of defense," Tahiri

suggested.

"We like to think of it as the first line,"  he  countered.  "There's  no

point defeating the Yuuzhan Vong if we defeat ourselves in  the  process."  As

cryptic  as  that  sounded,  it  echoed  Jacen's  philosophical  uncertainties

regarding the consequences of winning the war by violence alone. It also hit a

little close to where her own problems lived.

"We're not really going to have to unclog that garbage compactor, are we?

" she asked by way of changing the subject, thinking not just of the mounds of

steaming refuse but the closing walls as well.

"No," Arrizza said. "You just go about your business. I'll make sure  the

chores get done." "We have signals we can send each other if we're  needed  at

either end," Goure explained.

"If you're bothered by anyone," the Kurtzen added, "or you split up, just

tell security that your localizers have been scrambled and you're looking  for

Sector C. I'll find you there." Tahiri nodded.

They reached a T-junction and split  up  without  another  word:  Arrizza

heading off to the right to perform the functions of the cleanup crew,  Tahiri

and Goure stomping down the left corridor to begin their reconnaissance.  From

that moment on, Tahiri knew, the risk multiplied. She didn't know how  closely

the cleaning crews were monitored, or how deeply they could move  through  the

complex before someone noticed that they weren't following the usual  routine;

all she could do was work quickly, and hope that they were given  enough  time

to do what they'd come to do.

Goure led her on a  long  and  winding  route  through  the  sub-basement

levels, occasionally taking turbolifts up or down floors, or detouring through

warehouses full of sealed containers.

"There's more to the complex than meets the  eye,"  she  commented  after

passing through an enormous underground bunker packed to the ceiling with food

rations.

"After the war with the Ssi-ruuk, it was redesigned as a shelter,"  Goure

explained. "The Senate and a large proportion of the population of Salis D'aar

could survive down here a considerable length of time—as long as the  barriers

to the surface weren't breached, of course." "And if they  were?"  "There's  a

weapons cache, too," the Ryn replied. "Enough for a small  army.  Believe  me:

they wouldn't go down without a  fight."  Given  the  horrors  of  entechment,

Tahiri could understand the lengths the Senate had gone to  avoid  them.  With

the specter of enslavement and death hanging over them for decades, fear of  a

return invasion must have been deeply entrenched. No wonder, then,  that  some

people were reluctant to have anything to do with the  P'w'eck,  whether  they

were former slaves themselves or not.

So why the sudden turnaround? she wondered. Princess Leia  had  commented

that Prime Minister Cundertol had been anti-alien  when  serving  on  the  New

Republic Senate, so why had that changed now?

She forced herself to put the matter aside and concentrate on  the  issue

at hand. " If they put food and weapons down here," she said, "there  must  be

some sort of command hub as well." "Exactly," Goure replied. "And that's where

we're headed." They took a small detour to gather a  floating  floor-polishing

machine, then continued on their way. They passed through  an  empty  security

checkpoint and went down one more turbolift.  Tahiri  constantly  checked  the

spaces around them for any  sign  of  habitation,  but  the  sub-basement  was

uniformly empty. They could have been wandering the well-preserved ruins of an

ancient, abandoned city, for all she could tell.

But there were still security cams at every corner. All it would take was

for one person to become suspicious...

Two large, molded doors slid aside to  reveal  the  unused  command  hub.

Tahiri and Goure strode confidently inside, as though they visited there every

day. Rather than crane her  hydraulic  neck,  she  sent  her  HE-suit  sensors

sweeping across the empty workstations and dormant holoprojectors.  There  was

room for fifty or more people to work around a raised circular dais where, she

presumed, the Prime Minister and his chief officers would conduct business  in

times of war. Although it had clearly been empty for many years, there was  an

air of  preparedness  to  the  place—a  hint  of  anticipation  in  the  dusty

durasteel—as though it was waiting for its moment to come.

It might yet, she thought cynically, if the Keeramak's intentions are not

what they seem.

Goure came to a halt in the middle of the vast  room  and  activated  the

cleaning machine. Swinging it back and forth, he spoke over its patient whine:

" Look like you're cleaning. I'll slice into the systems and see if I can find

Jaina. Switch your monitors to channel seventeen so that you  can  monitor  my

progress." "Won't someone notice what we're doing?" "Not if I'm good  enough."

He smiled at her through his faceplate. "And I am good enough." More seriously

he added, "Although we need to be in the hub to access its networks, we  don't

want to do anything obvious like switch on the displays. The HE-suits  can  do

the job for us." Again the heavy shoulders of  his  suit  flexed.  "I  suspect

we're only going to get one shot at this, so we have to make it count." Tahiri

acknowledged the instruction and did as he told her,  making  a  big  show  of

using her suit's strength and flexibility for the sake of anyone that might be

watching. All the time she was working, she kept one eye on Goure's  progress,

using the upper half of her helmet's interior as a crude VR  hood.  At  first,

she saw nothing but line after line of complex  machine  code  as  he  used  a

number of simple techniques to infiltrate the complex's low-security networks.

From there the job became much tougher, and it took him a while to break  into

the next layer. There he gained access to administrative data, such as arrests

and releases, but there was no mention of Jaina.

Another twenty minutes' code work took Goure right into the heart of  the

Bakuran bureaucracy, where he said the true  secrets  were  stored.  At  first

Tahiri was amazed at his ability, until she remembered  that  the  Ryn  had  a

reputation for being capable slicers. Not only that, but Ba-kura, a system  on

the isolated edge of the Rim worlds, probably didn't possess the sophisticated

software required to guarantee silence—the kind she took for granted  back  on

Mon Cal. Nevertheless, peeling back the system's strongest defenses  in  under

an hour and a half was still impressive.

"Interesting," he muttered at one point.

"You found something?" Tahiri was immediately interested. She was growing

tired of polishing and dusting.

"Not about Jaina, I'm afraid. I've managed to access hidden  holocams  in

rooms that aren't supposed to have them." The view through the top half of her

hood changed to a video feed, and she saw a wide, circular bed  surrounded  by

lush drapes.

"Looks like someone has been doing a little spying," Tahiri said.

"I doubt it. Probably just an overzealous security chief.  You  see  this

kind of thing wherever you go. It's a case of the left hand not  trusting  the

right." He scanned through more  hidden  cams,  glancing  at  more  supposedly

secure rooms. The picture quality varied from full 3-D  to  grainy  black-and-

white 2-D. Mostly the footage was of empty offices or of Senators going  about

early-morning preparations for the  consecration  ceremony.  Nothing  terribly

exciting.

After flitting through numerous cam points of view, Tahiri  was  starting

to wonder whether they were ever going to find anything useful. Then — "Wait!"

she called out. "Go back!" But Goure was already onto it, recalling the  image

of Han and Leia and manipulating it to bring it into focus. They were standing

in a plushly appointed  office  opposite  Prime  Minister  Cundertol's  broad,

polished desk. Leia's expression was carefully composed, as always, but  there

was no mistaking Han's frustration.

Tahiri was about to ask if there was any sound when Goure provided it.

"—understand your concern," Cundertol was  saying,  "but  at  this  stage

there really is nothing I can do-especially when it  appears  that  she  might

have been com-plicit in the escape of a dangerous criminal." Han bristled. "If

she helped Malinza escape, then it had to be for a good reason." "Be  that  as

it may, Captain Solo, the fact  remains  that  she  broke  the  law.  If  your

daughter believed in Malinza's innocence, then there  are  legal  avenues  she

could have pursued. However, as things stand, you have to see  that  my  hands

are tied. From a legal point of view, it is hard to deny that she is  guilty."

"Of helping an innocent woman escape!" Han said.

"Malinza Thanas is hardly an innocent," the Prime Minister said  gravely.

"She and her band of insurrectionists have done more than enough damage to the

peace of Bakura to warrant her outlaw status. It was time she was  put  away."

"But you yourself thought she was innocent!" Han blustered, incredulous.

Cundertol's expression was one of mystified  puzzlement.  "Whatever  gave

you that idea?" Leia broke in calmly,  averting  an  explosion  of  Corel-lian

proportions. "Prime Minister, it's my suspicion that Jaina has been set up. We

were contacted by someone claiming to have information for us. Acting on  that

information, Jaina went to visit Malinza Thanas—but only  to  speak  with  the

girl. She certainly never went there  to  help  Malinza  escape.  If  she  did

participate, it would only have been under coercion." "So why hasn't she  come

forward to explain herself?" Cundertol asked. "The footage clearly  shows  her

leading Thanas out of the penitentiary of her own  free  will.  There  was  no

coercion." "Then she was tricked into it," Leia said.

"Why?" "If we knew that," Han snarled, "then we wouldn't be  wasting  our

time with you, would we? We'd fix the problem ourselves." Leia put a  hand  on

her husband's shoulder. "We don't mean to criticize," she said. "We are simply

concerned about the well-being of our daughter." "And what  about  your  other

companion? The other Jedi? Has she returned yet?" Han's  scowl  deepened,  but

Leia's expression  remained  calm  and  sober.  "Unfortunately,  no.  And  I'm

becoming concerned about her safety, too." "So that  makes  two  Jedi  Knights

roaming Salis D'aar unchecked. I'm sure you'll forgive me for suggesting  that

anything underhanded is going on, but the timing is uncanny.  One  day  before

Bakura is due to cement a lasting peace  with  its  old  enemy,  the  Galactic

Alliance turns up and throws everything into disorder. I can't help but wonder

whether you want us to sever ties with the rest  of  the  galaxy.  Or  perhaps

there is something you still need from us that you fear we will no longer give

you..." "I don't think you believe that, Prime Minister," Leia said, unruffled

by the accusations. "You know us, and  you  know  that  we  only  act  in  the

interest of peace." "I'm afraid I have yet to see any evidence  whatsoever  to

support this, Princess." At that moment, a high-pitched buzzing  sound  issued

from the Prime Minister's desk. In one smooth movement,  Cundertol  stood  and

smoothed  back  his  hair.  The  change  in  his  behavior  was  striking.  As

unperturbed as he had been by Han's threatening manner, a tinny  alarm  seemed

to leave him quite flustered.

"I'm sorry, but  you  really  must  excuse  me;  that  will  be  my  next

appointment. You can rest assured, though, that we will be doing everything in

our power to find the missing Jedi Knights—along with Malinza Thanas."  Almost

as an  afterthought,  he  added,  "I  trust  we  will  see  you  both  at  the

consecration ceremony. It's only a short time away now, and I do not wish  you

to feel that because of the recent developments, we would be so churlish as to

rescind our invitation to you. Princess Leia, Captain  Solo:  you  remain  our

honored guests until such time as we have  cause  to  think  otherwise."  Leia

practically had to drag her husband from the office. They  were  both  clearly

unsatisfied by the audience with the Prime Minister, but even Tahiri, watching

from afar, could see that they could do little about it just then.

As the door shut behind them, Cundertol sat back down. For a long  moment

he was completely still—as though gathering his thoughts in meditation.

"Leia mentioned you," Tahiri said to Goure. "You're the who contacted us,

who sent Jaina into the penitentiary. She probably thinks you're  involved  in

whatever trouble Jaina's in." "Which is all the more reason to find  out  what

happened to her. Let's see if we can pick up something in—' "Wait; look!"  The

door to Cundertol's office had opened again. Four dull-scaled  P'w'eck  guards

walked in, dressed in elaborate leather harnesses and wearing  paddle  beamers

at their sides. They  spread  out  on  either  side  of  the  desk  and  gazed

suspiciously around the room.  Lwothin  then  lumbered  in,  and  behind  him,

walking serenely and with  consummate  grace,  came  a  figure  that,  broadly

speaking, resembled a P'w'eck, but was in almost every detail something  quite

different.

The Keeramak, Tahiri thought. She couldn't help but admire the creature's

beautifully swirled, multicolored scales. The pattern they made shimmered with

rainbow hues under the bright lights of the office. Every  movement  sent  new

sparkles dancing. The Ssi-ruuvi physique was that of a refined  hunter,  honed

by thousands of years of dominance over the stunted, nervous-looking P'w'ecks.

The Keeramak's posture was straighter and its poise more balanced;  its  limbs

were longer, its muscles sleeker, and its eyes glinted  with  an  intelligence

and cunning that made Advance Leader Lwothin look about as threatening  as  an

Ewok.

Two more P'w'eck guards followed. The doors shut firmly behind them.  The

Keeramak strode right up to Cundertol's desk and stood there, its  thick  tail

swishing.

Cundertol rose and bowed formally.

The Keeramak said something in the powerful, deep  fluting  of  the  Ssi-

ruuvi tongue. Tahiri listened for a translation, but none came. Cundertol  had

an earplug, she assumed, feeding the Keeramak's words  in  Basic  directly  to

him. That was unfortunate, but not a disaster.

At least we can still hear his reply, Tahiri thought.

But what happened next took her completely by surprise. When the Keeramak

had finished speaking, Prime Minister Cundertol opened his mouth  and  replied

to the alien in fluent Ssi-ruuvi—a language that no human could possibly dream

of pronouncing.

Tahiri stared at the screen, watching Cundertol's larynx bob up and  down

in a highly unusual fashion as a rapid series of flutes issued from his mouth.

"This isn't possible," she said, stunned.

Cundertol's speech was  interrupted  by  a  loud  interjection  from  the

Keeramak. A clawed hand  grasped  air  between  the  two  of  them.  Cundertol

protested at something, but the Keeramak cut him off again.  Finally,  with  a

sour expression, he nodded and sat back in his seat, folding his  arms  across

his chest.

He spoke again in the alien language, to  which  the  Keeramak  responded

with a snort that might have been Ssi-ruuvi laughter. Lwothin  tried  to  lean

into the conversation, but the Keeramak batted him  roughly  aside.  Cundertol

smiled at this.

"I don't like the look of this," Tahiri said.

"Me neither," Goure replied. "If only there was some way I  could  record

this—or at least patch it into a translator. But I  can't  do  either  without

alerting security." "Then maybe that's what we need to do,"  Tahiri  said.  "I

mean, someone needs to know about this!" The words had barely  left  her  lips

when the exchange between Cundertol and the Keeramak ended. The Prime Minister

stood and offered another slight bow. Lwothin and his  Ssi-ruuvi  leader  left

the room, flanked by their armed bodyguard.

When he was alone again, Cundertol fell heavily into his seat once  more,

this time with a relieved expression on his face.

"I've no idea what just happened," Goure said, "but you're right: we have

to tell someone about  it."  "Tell  them  what,  though?"  Tahiri  asked.  The

incident was only seconds  in  the  past,  and  already  she  was  finding  it

difficult to credit—so how were others going to believe  them  without  proof?

"Do we just come out and say that the Prime Minister might  be  some  sort  of

human/Ssi-ruu hybrid? They're never going to believe us!"  "There  is  someone

who might," Goure said thoughtfully.

"Who?" "This kind of thing would  undoubtedly  end  Cunder-tol's  career—

regardless of what his intentions might be. Who do you think  would  stand  to

gain the  most  from  that?"  Tahiri  nodded.  "The  Deputy  Prime  Minister."

"Exactly. He has a motive for doing something, as well as the power to make it

happen quickly. If we can just  get  to  him—"  "—before  the  ceremony!"  she

finished for him. "If the Keeramak is planning to  double-cross  Bakura,  then

we'll need to act before then. The only thing  stopping  them  from  attacking

openly is fear for their souls. Once Bakura is  consecrated,  there'll  be  no

stopping them." "Agreed. And that doesn't leave us much time."  The  image  of

Prime Minister Cundertol winked out and was replaced by  a  flowchart  of  the

complex's communications network. "Now, where exactly is Harris at the moment?

" Before he could pinpoint the Deputy Prime Minister, a blaring voice rang out

through the empty command hub.

"Attention, cleaning crew. On whose instructions are you  acting?"  Goure

activated an external comlink,  his  voice  erupting  uncomfortably  close  to

Tahiri's right ear. "Supervisor Jakaitis, sir."  "Supervisor  Jakaitis  denies

requesting a crew in that location," came the instant reply. "Your presence is

not authorized." "I'm sure if  you  were  to  ask  him  again—"  "You  are  in

violation of Sections Four through Sixteen of the Secrecy  Act.  Remain  where

you are until a squad arrives. You will be escorted to a  holding  area  where

you will be formally processed." The feed from the command hub ceased.

Tahiri cursed under her breath and, despite the air-conditioning unit  of

her suit, started to sweat again. They'd been paying  too  much  attention  to

Cundertol, and not enough on maintaining the pretence of manual labor.

Now that they'd been sprung, security would almost certainly be listening

in on them. Goure butted the helmet of his HE-suit against Tahiri's to  ensure

they could speak without being overheard. At  least  their  identities  hadn't

been revealed.

"There goes that plan," he said.

"We have to get out of here." An uneasy feeling was growing  inside  her.

She couldn't sense anyone nearby, but the security squad might just as  easily

consist of droids.

"Don't worry," he said. "We will. Follow me and  do  exactly  as  I  do."

"What about Harris?" "I found him before they cut us off," Goure said. "All we

have to do is get to him." "And Arrizza?" "He can look after himself. Come on!

" Before she could ask anything else, he'd pulled away and  was  powering  his

suit toward the exit. Although bulky and not designed exclusively  for  speed,

the massive constructs could move quickly when they had to. She followed,  the

pounding of her heavy feet vibrating up through her  metal  legs  and  jarring

into her body. The sound of hydros straining was loud in her ears.

Goure led her back to the first  turbolift  they'd  taken.  Knowing  that

security would be watching them, he didn't even consider taking  it.  Instead,

he took Tahiri along another series of corridors to a spiraling stairwell. The

stairs shook precariously under their combined weight, but it was better  than

being trapped in a lift, waiting to be arrested.

They climbed ten floors without interruption. Concern about the stability

of the stairs became a worry of a very different kind when two  black  spheres

dropped from above, wailing and flashing warning lights.

"Security droids!" Goure yelled, his  voice  echoing  from  his  speakers

through the stairwell.

Tahiri looked up. Restricted to the stairs, the droids had  dropped  down

the center of the stairwell shaft. Thankfully there were only two, but she had

no doubt that others would soon follow. Their stun  prods  would  be  harmless

against the HE-suits' armor, but they  had  more  powerful  weapons  at  their

disposal.

"You are under arrest!" they announced. "You are under arrest! Drop  your

weapons and cease all movement!" Not likely, Tahiri thought, opening  a  metal

hatch on the outside of the suit and reaching inside. Before climbing into the

suit, she had hidden her lightsaber among the cleaning tools  in  case  of  an

emergency such as this. It felt tiny in her giant metal fist,  and  she  would

have to concentrate twice as hard to fight the natural clumsiness of the suit,

but she instantly felt better for having it in her hand.

"No!" Goure shouted, seeing what she was doing. "If you activate it  then

they'll know who you are!" What difference will that make? she wanted to shout

back. If they didn't already know, they would as soon as she was arrested  and

forced to step out of the suit.

But an instinct told her to trust Goure. He didn't  seem  to  be  running

without purpose. Wherever he was taking her, he obviously thought  they  could

get away. And there were ways to fight that didn't involve using a lightsaber.

She sent a psychokinetic pulse to knock out the nearest  droid.  It  spun

out of control, showering sparks as it rolled crazily around  the  stone  wall

before plummeting to the bottom of the stairwell. The  second  backed  away  a

meter or so, its weapon arms rising threateningly.  She  sent  a  power  surge

through its repulsorlift circuits, sending it upward to a fate similar to  the

first. Its screams of protest faded rapidly as it disappeared into the shadows

above.

"Good work," Goure said, reaching up to  smash  a  nearby  security  cam.

"Now, through here." They left the stairwell thirteen floors above  the  level

of the secret command hub. The area they entered  wasn't  designed  for  heavy

maintenance, and Tahiri had to stoop to fit into the  corridor.  Goure  didn't

bother. The top of his metal head scraped against the ceiling,  lifting  tiles

and smashing light fittings, leaving a trail of wreckage behind him.  Whenever

he passed a security cam, he didn't pause. He just reached out and crushed  it

without so much as breaking step.

"I take it you know where  you're  going?"  Tahiri  asked.  Her  previous

confidence in him was starting to wane. She couldn't help  wonder  whether  he

really did have a plan or whether he was just intent on causing as much damage

as possible.

"If my memory serves me correctly, there should be  a  maintenance  shaft

somewhere..." Ahead of them was a two-meter-wide, cylindrical  column  running

from floor to ceiling. Goure stepped up to it and used his suit's strength  to

tear through the column's side. Within, Tahiri saw numerous coiled cables  and

pipes. Clearly, the  column  stretched  many  floors  above  and  below  them,

delivering essential services to the areas around it.

Goure spent a moment searching for the cable he needed. Frustration  soon

took hold and he started pulling out handfuls at random.

"Come on," Tahiri muttered, glancing around nervously, checking for signs

of the other security droids. They couldn't be far behind.

Sparks and steam hissed and spat from the column as the powerful hands of

Goure's HE-suit tore through wires and conduits. When he was up to his  elbows

in bubbling fluid  and  smoking  insulator,  he  clutched  both  hands  around

something he'd found deep inside and gave a mighty wrench.

Instantly the lights went out  around  them  and  the  entire  floor  was

plunged into darkness.

"Okay," she heard him  say  somewhat  breathlessly.  Tahiri  switched  to

infrared to see him step back from the column, then move over to a ventilation

shaft and pull it open. "We haven't got much time. This isn't  going  to  hold

them for long." There was a hiss as his HE-suit cracked  down  the  back.  His

head emerged from the seam, followed by his arms.  Tahiri  reached  around  to

give him a hand. Her HE-suit lifted him as though he were  a  doll,  his  tail

lashing in obvious relief at being freed from its confinement.

"Slave your control circuits to mine before you come out," he  instructed

her. She did so, and then clicked the FAST-RELEASE button. She inhaled deeply,

appreciating the fresh, cool air that immediately swept across her body.

"Now  what?"  she  asked,  retrieving  her  lightsaber  from  the  suit's

unresisting fist.

Goure pointed at the open shaft. "We  climb.  But  first..."  He  reached

under his suit's armpit and flicked a switch.  Both  suits  whirred  shut  and

turned to stride quickly away, each leaving a trail  of  destruction  as  they

walked through the low-ceilinged corridors.

"Now that's a trail no one could miss," he said, his face briefly lit  by

sparks as the suits marched away into the darkness. "I've programmed  them  to

run free, heading up whenever they can. If they reach  the  stairwell,  things

could get interesting. If not—well, they'll gain us a minute or two, at least.

" He helped her into the shaft, then followed, replacing the cover behind him.

"There should be a central air shaft not far from  here,"  he  explained.

"When we find it, we go up. Once  we  reach  the  surface,  we  can  look  for

somewhere to come out of the  shaft.  From  there  we're  free."  "Hopefully,"

Tahiri added.

Goure nodded grimly.  "Hopefully."  "And  what  about  the  Deputy  Prime

Minister?" "As long as Harris doesn't go too far, we should be  able  to  find

him in time. But we've only got an hour before the  ceremony  starts,  and  we

have seventeen floors to climb." "Then we'd better get  moving,  wouldn't  you

say?" Outside the shaft,  emergency  lighting  flickered  into  life.  In  the

distance, they could hear the pounding of the suits' feet and the  crackle  of

blasterfire.

In the shadowy and reddish darkness,  Goure  nodded  again,  and  without

another word the two of them began to crawl.

"What do you mean, you prefer to leave the fighting to your sister?"  Wyn

Antilles stared at Jacen as though  he'd  gone  mad.  With  her  severe  black

uniform and blond hair pulled back, she looked like  a  schoolgirl  trying  to

impersonate a Grand Moff; she might have known the rules, but she didn't  have

the maturity to pull it off.

"Where I come from,"  Jacen  responded  good-naturedly,  "we  don't  have

customs prohibiting women from fighting in battle. In fact, I didn't think you

had here, either." "We don't," she said. "That would just  be  stupid-wouldn't

it, Commander Irolia?" The Chiss officer nodded stiffly from the far  side  of

the table, where she was watching Jacen input data  from  the  library  search

into data-pads for further analysis. Wyn had joined Jacen and  Danni  as  they

reviewed their data electronically, while the other members of the  group  had

continued to talk with the  girl's  parents.  Initially,  Wyn  had  been  very

excited at meeting Jacen, and was keen to talk to him  about  the  search  for

Zonama Sekot. But when this conversation ebbed, the girl had obviously decided

it might be fun to lock horns with Jacen, determinedly teasing out  his  place

in the mission and the universe in general. He couldn't figure out if she  was

genuinely interested in what  he  had  to  say  or  if  she  was  deliberately

antagonizing him, trying to see how far she could actually push a Jedi  before

his patience cracked...

"All I meant was that you should fight when you have to. Your preferences

don't come into it. Your enemy won't stand down just because you don't want to

fight. You either rise to  the  occasion  or  you  die."  Harsh  words,  Jacen

thought, coming from one so young. But with her pedigree, he reminded himself,

and the culture and times in which she'd been educated, perhaps it  wasn't  so

surprising.

"I guess what I should have said was that  I  prefer  to  put  myself  in

situations where skills other than those involving combat will save the  day."

He tried to put his feelings into words with consummate precision, not wanting

to give her the chance to leap on another ambiguity. Fatigue wasn't making  it

easy, though. "Not every conflict can  be  solved  with  violence,  Wyn.  Some

become exponentially more difficult to solve once  violence  has  entered  the

equation. The Force may need both sides of life—birth and death—in order to be

balanced, but that doesn't meant we can't look for  peaceful  solutions.  It's

the same if violence seems to be the only—or indeed  the  easiest—option."  To

his relief, Wyn acknowledged his point with a thoughtful  nod.  "Okay,  I  can

understand that. But what about your sister?  How  does  she  feel  about  you

letting her risk her life exercising the 'easy' option?" "I don't think it's a

case of me letting  her  do  anything,"  he  said.  "She's  simply  better  at

following that path when the need for it arises. While I spend  half  my  life

philosophically pondering the way of things, she focuses her energies  on  the

exterior, on what she can change. But as far as I'm concerned, deep down we're

still addressing the same problem—just from different angles."  "You  carry  a

lightsaber," Wyn pointed out.

He shrugged. "It's a symbol of a Jedi—just like the insignia on Commander

Irolia's uniform." "Nevertheless, the weapon at your side seems out  of  place

on a man who says he dislikes violence." How do I answer that? he wondered. If

I say that I don't hate violence, I undermine everything I've told her.  If  I

confirm that I do, I make a mockery of my own convictions. Is this the  corner

I've backed myself into?

"Haven't we drifted off the topic a little here?" Danni said,  stretching

tiredly. "We were looking for Zonama Sekot, remember?" Jacen  nodded.  It  had

been an exhausting session, and one that had only been  partially  successful.

The number of "hits"—systems where stories of  a  wandering  planet  had  been

recorded—was reaching a plateau; they quickly ran out of the  ones  that  were

easiest to find. So far they had sixty confirmed or suspected appearances in a

forty-year period spanning from shortly before the formation of the Empire  to

some years after. Wherever it was that  Zonama  Sekot  had  settled  down,  it

seemed to have done so about twenty years before the arrival of  the  Yuu-zhan

Vong.

"But you said before that you were probably looking in the wrong  place,"

Wyn said.

Danni sighed, and when she spoke there was no mistaking  the  frustration

in her tone. "We're looking primarily through sociological records," she said.

"Astronomical data would be our best bet. We need  to  look  specifically  for

systems that have adopted a new planet in their habitable zones, whether those

zones are inhabited or not." "But there are hundreds of thousands of stars  in

and around Chiss space," Wyn said. "Plus about the same number again of orphan

worlds drifting in interstellar space. There must be planets captured and lost

all  the  time."  "Actually,  no."  After  Danni's  success  at  cracking  the

biological secrets of the Yuuzhan  Vong,  it  was  easy  to  forget  that  her

original specialization was astronomy. "Although the  capture  of  extra-solar

planets does happen quite naturally, it's a very  rare  event—and  even  rarer

right in the middle of the habitable zone. A large percentage of those systems

have been visited more than once by droid probes on deep-survey missions,  and

the basic configurations of the others would have  been  atleast  recorded  by

large-scale interferometric detectors in nearby  systems.  The  Chiss  checked

every target system at least twice in the last sixty years. Any  discrepancies

would show up in even the most basic scan." Wyn nodded. "We  could  set  up  a

sweep to look for stuff that was added to any of the systems on record. I  can

talk to Tris and—" She stopped as  Luke  appeared  from  one  of  the  aisles,

followed closely by Saba. "Sorry to interrupt," he  said.  "We've  decided  to

bring Shadow to a closer spaceport. If you'd like to clean up and have a rest,

then this might be your best chance." "I think I'd settle  for  either,  right

now," Danni said.

"What about you, Saba?" Luke said, facing the Bara-bel. She was  bringing

another heavy-looking tome to read.

"A shower soundz good," she said. The exhaustion was clearly  evident  in

her voice. "Even the best hunterz need to wash." "Okay, then we'll see you all

shortly at the barge," Luke said. "When we come back, we'll bring  Artoo  with

us. He might be able to help us search through the less obvious data." "That's

a good idea," Danni said, rising to her feet. She faced Jacen.  "You  coming?"

He shook his head. "I think I'll  stay  here.  Someone  has  to  keep  looking

through the data we've collected. There's a lot to get through, and we've only

one day left." Danni's disappointment was obvious,  but  Luke  agreed  with  a

cautious nod. "Don't overdo it, Jacen. I'm sure Commander Irolia  can  provide

you with a bunk and a 'fresher if you decide you need one." "Of  course,"  the

commander said.

"Syal and Soontir will be coming with us on the ice barge," Luke went on.

"Obviously you're welcome  to  come  as  well,  Wyn,  if  you're  interested."

"Actually, I think I'll stay and help  Jacen,  if  that's  all  right?"  Jacen

nodded. "No problem. We can begin that search you thought of,  Danni.  And  if

anything comes up, I promise to call, okay?" Danni glanced at Jacen  and  Wyn,

offering a curt and unenthusiastic nod. "Sure," she  said,  then  faced  Luke.

"How soon do we leave?" "Right now if you like." "Sounds good  to  me,"  Danni

said. Then, with the faintest glance at Wyn, added: "The sooner  the  better."

Jacen's uncle, aunt, and Lieutenant Stalgis left for the barge  with  a  brief

farewell to everyone, followed shortly by Danni and Saba.

"So, what do you want to do?" Wyn asked when everyone had gone. "I  could

show you around, if you want. Or there's always—" "I don't think that's such a

good idea." Jacen cut her off firmly but  gently.  Commander  Irolia  silently

took up position against the far wall—a position that allowed her to  keep  an

eye on both Jacen and Wyn. "There really isn't much time before  the  deadline

runs out, and if we don't learn anything, then we're back where  we  started."

The girl rolled her eyes, sighing with only a half-serious look  of  rejection

on her face. "Then we'd better get going," she said.

No, thought Jacen. That's exactly what they wouldn't be able  to  do.  If

they ever did find what they were looking for, then everything would be  blown

wide open. It would be the beginning of the end of everything they had come to

take for granted these last few years.

He kept this to himself. When he thought of  the  future,  the  image  he

received from the Force  was  invariably  clouded.  His  vision  of  a  galaxy

slipping into darkness still burned inside him, and he didn't  like  to  think

that any failure on his part might contribute to  such  an  out-come.  He  was

determined to bring his uncle's peaceful solution into being.  And  despite  a

twinge of guilt, he couldn't allow Wyn's feelings to get in the way of that.

I should have known better...

Jaina struggled to get a grip on the  world  around  her  as  suffocating

folds of unconsciousness tried to drag her back  down.  The  only  signal  she

received from her body was that of a burning sensation  between  her  shoulder

blades, where she'd been shot. She suspected that she  hadn't  been  seriously

hurt, but the blaster's stun setting had  been  on  the  high  side,  and  her

nervous system was still a bit scrambled.

When the darkness finally began to recede and she managed to haul herself

out into daylight, she couldn't tell if weeks or minutes had passed.  Moaning,

she tried to move, but found that Salkeli had bound her arms and legs  tightly

together. There was a translucent hood over her head, too.

"I see you're awake," she heard him say from close by, his  voice  raised

over the steady whining of his land-speeder's motor. From the  way  the  world

bumped and slewed beneath her,  she  guessed  that  she  was  slumped  on  the

reclined seat of the vehicle. Despite her situation, she actually  found  this

thought reassuring; it suggested that she hadn't been out too long, after all.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"To meet someone." "Who?" "It's not important. He has money,  and  that's

all that concerns me right now." She reached into herself to  find  her  still

center, hoping to pluck his intentions directly from his mind, but  her  focus

was scattered by the pain and disorientation.

"You betrayed them," she said disgustedly.

"Do you mean Freedom?" "You sold them out." "They did it to themselves. I

mean, what do they expect? You go up against the  big  cannons,  you  have  to

expect to get shot." " But you were the one pulling the trigger." "Better that

than be on the receiving end. Besides, if they hadn't caused so much  trouble,

this might never have happened." "So they were getting close to someone?" "You

really think you're going to get any information out of me?"  He  laughed.  "I

don't think so, Jedi." She tried again to use the Force and this time  felt  a

flicker of response. She clutched at it as though it were a  life  raft.  "You

could just release me," she said,  putting  as  much  persuasion  as  possible

behind the words. "I'm of no importance—" "You're right," he said. "So I might

as well shoot you now and be done with it." She heard  him  pull  the  blaster

from its holster.

"No, wait!" The bolt took her in the shoulder,  hurling  her  again  into

darkness.

Hundreds of thousands of stars.

It was easy to say the words, but much more difficult to comprehend  what

they actually meant. On a map, the Unknown Regions comprised only  15  percent

of the total volume of the galaxy; but when that 15 percent became the  search

area for something as small as a planet-which, on a cosmic  scale,  was  much,

much smaller than a needle in a haystack—the true immensity of the task became

all too apparent.

And they had to do it in just two days!

Jacen  concentrated  on  scouring  through  data  Saba  and   Danni   had

discovered, while Wyn worked on the search algorithm. There were thousands  of

mission reports to scan through. Wandering asteroids and close encounters with

comets were common, and it wasn't always easy  to  distinguish  these  from  a

mysterious planetary appearance. He soon lost  track  of  all  the  unfamiliar

names among the thousands of people and places he came across.

"Who's this Jer'Jo Cam'Co who keeps cropping up in the records?" he asked

Wyn.

The girl looked up and shrugged. "Beats me." "Jer'Jo Cam'Co  was  one  of

our founding syndics," Irolia said from where she'd kept patiently out of  the

way while Wyn and Jacen worked. "He proposed the  Expansionary  Defense  Fleet

after a series of exploratory expeditions turned up numerous vital resources."

Jacen nodded. That would explain why the man's name was  on  so  many  of  the

older reports. There were at least seven vessels  named  after  him,  and  two

systems. There had been no mention of him in any of the old or recent Republic

records—which only went to show just how much there was still to  learn  about

the Chiss.

It amused him, therefore, when Wyn demonstrated that the ignorance worked

both ways.

"Tell me," she said, "what's it like on Coruscant?" Jacen did his best to

describe the capital world as he remembered it. His recollections were tainted

by his recent experiences with the Yuuzhan Vong, however,  and  the  knowledge

that so much that had been beautiful was now lost or sullied in his  memories.

It made him sad to think of  the  former  Imperial  Palace  in  ruin,  or  the

Monument Plaza turned into  yorik  coral  fields,  but  they  were  very  real

possibilities. And the saddest thing of all was  that  even  if  the  Galactic

Alliance defeated the Yuuzhan Vong tomorrow, the actual damage inflicted  upon

Coruscant might never be undone. Memories could be all that remained to future

generations. Wyn listened  soberly,  only  occasionally  interrupting  with  a

question. The idea of a world devoid of natural life,  on  which  most  people

lived underground, didn't seem to surprise her as he  thought  it  might.  But

then, perhaps her world wasn't all that different. On Coruscant,  the  bedrock

was covered with city; on Csilla it was ice, but the  effect  was  essentially

the same.

"I think I'd like to go there  someday,"  she  said  when  he'd  finished

talking. "When the war is over, of course. I'll see if I can get Father to let

me take Starflare, our family yacht. I'm licensed to  fly  her,  you  know—not

that I get much of a chance because Cem's always  taking  her  out!"  She  was

probably fishing for a personal invite from him to show her around  the  place

sometime, but he refused the bait. He smiled, saying nothing.

"Oh well. If Saba and Danni are right then  I  guess  it  doesn't  matter

anyway." She went on when he frowned at her. "Sometimes they talk about  stuff

when they forget I'm there." She paused, looking  uncomfortable.  "You  really

think there's a chance that we won't be able to beat the Yuuzhan Vong?"  Jacen

nodded slowly. "It's a very real possibility,  Wyn,  yes."  She  nodded  also,

equally as slowly, but infinitely more sadly—as only  a  teenager  who'd  been

told she might not have long to live could. "Sometimes I think—"  She  stopped

in midsentence, dropping her gaze. The notion obviously scared her.

"Sometimes you think what, Wyn?" "It doesn't matter," she said.  "No  one

cares what I think, anyway." "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,"  Jacen  said

soberly.

She looked up again, flashing an appreciative smile. "Sometimes  I  think

that the sooner we can be rid of the Yuuzhan Vong, the better.  I  don't  want

what happened to Coruscant to  happen  here,  Jacen.  I  think  we  should  do

whatever we have to to make sure of that." "Even if it means joining  up  with

us?" "Yes," she said, nodding. "Unfortunately, though, Dad and I  are  in  the

minority there. Most people believe that the Yuuzhan Vong would  strike  twice

as hard if they found out we'd sided with you. Others just worry that you will

corrupt us with your ways, making it easier for the Yuuzhan Vong to  walk  all

over us when the time comes. And Jag's behavior has only helped  support  this

argument, I'm afraid." "What do you mean? What about Jag's behavior?" "Jag and

his squadron were supposed to return months ago," she explained. "To some, the

fact that he hasn't only proves that you've been a bad influence  on  him.  He

would never have gone off for so long before." "I wasn't aware that this was a

problem," Jacen said, wondering if Jaina had any idea, either. "But I can  say

that he's been a great help to us in the fight against the enemy. I hope  your

people realize that." "That's just it, though. Because he hasn't reported back

as he was supposed to, no one really knows  exactly  what  he's  been  doing."

"Maybe he's just been too busy fighting  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  to  communicate."

"Maybe," Wyn said. "Or maybe he's just been spending a little  too  much  time

with his new girlfriend." Jacen studied her curiously for a few seconds.  "How

could you possibly know about that?" "I didn't say he hadn't  reported  in  at

all, just that he hadn't reported in as  he  was  supposed  to."  She  grinned

impishly. "That's an important  difference  for  the  Chiss,  you  know."  Her

expression was one of exaggerated innocence mixed  with  mischievousness.  And

her smile left no doubt  in  Jacen's  mind  that  the  girl  knew  that  Jag's

girlfriend was in fact Jacen's own sister. "Well, perhaps he might prefer  his

private life to remain private," he returned in a tone that said  this  was  a

path he was not prepared to take.

Her eyes twinkled; she knew how to press people's buttons. "Hey, if  he's

sweet on her, then that's just fine by me. It keeps him out of my hair  for  a

while, at least. He can be such a pain."  Despite  her  obvious  intelligence,

comments such as this only served to remind Jacen of just how young she really

was—hovering as she was on the cusp of adolescence and  adulthood.  He  didn't

doubt that she loved Jag,  but  she  was  clearly  unimpressed  by  her  older

brother's achievements at the same time.

"What about your father?" Jacen asked, moving the  subject  along.  "What

does he think?" "Well, he's been something of a disruptive influence himself,"

she said. "The Chiss don't like to use droids in combat, arguing that  they're

too slow and vulnerable. Dad agrees mostly, but not all the time. He says, um,

that 'expendability can be a deciding factor in a  war.'  He  has  a  team  of

engineers working on a prototype  droid  fighter  that  should—"  She  stopped

abruptly when Irolia  pointedly  cleared  her  throat.  The  commander  stared

warningly at Jacen, her expression telling him quite clearly that  she  didn't

for a moment believe that he was asking such questions out of idle interest.

"I'm sorry," he put in quickly, directing his apology to both of them. "I

shouldn't have asked. My mission here is to find Zonama Sekot, not to pry into

your affairs." Then to Wyn specifically, he added, "You've been a lot of help,

Wyn, and I'm grateful for that. I'd hate for  you  to  get  into  any  trouble

because of me." "I won't," she said, offering a fleeting,  somewhat  chastened

glance to Irolia. "Perhaps we should change the subject, though." The  two  of

them returned to the holodisplay before them.

"How's that algorithm coming along, anyway?" Jacen asked after  a  moment

of studying the data. "You almost there?" "It's ready to roll. All you need to

do is give me the constraints." "As we discussed earlier: any system that  has

gained an extra, habitable world in the last sixty years should be flagged for

our attention. If Danni's right, that should narrow our  search  dramatically.

Can you do that? " "Of course." The girl  bent  her  head  to  the  task,  not

looking up as footsteps approached across the library floor.

Jacen didn't need to turn, either, to know who it was; he could tell both

from the way that Commander Irolia instantly snapped to  attention,  and  from

the hostility the man radiated as he entered the room.

"At ease, Commander," Chief Navigator Aabe said.

Jacen and Wyn swiveled around to face him.

The bald man glided smoothly to the table, flanked by two  Chiss  guards.

He walked to where Wyn was sitting and placed a hand on  her  shoulder.  "Your

father has asked me to fetch you." The girl looked worried. "It was an  honest

mistake, mentioning the droids," she said. "I swear. If  you'll  just  let  me

stay to—" "This has nothing to do with that, child." Aabe's  voice  was  firm.

"But disobeying his instructions won't make him any  more  pleased  with  you,

will it?" She sagged into herself, and then stood. "Sorry, Jacen,"  she  said,

nervously glancing down to him. "Good luck witi the search, though." "Thanks."

He watched, unable to protest, as Aabe  led  her  from  the  room.  "Hopefully

you'll get the chance to come visit me at my home someday." She briefly smiled

back at him as the door closed between them. Then she was  gone,  leaving  him

alone with Commander Irolia. The commander sat  down  wearily,  her  red  eyes

avoiding his. He sensed that she, too, didn't like the way in  which  Wyn  had

been whisked out of the room.

Nothing was said, but he couldn't help feeling  a  twinge  of  misgivings

about what had just taken place. Something didn't feel right, somehow.

Wyn's search was indeed ready to roll, as promised. He called up  a  list

of references on his datapad and considered where to start. He sat  as  though

he was deep in thought for several minutes, but for once  he  wasn't  thinking

about Zonama Sekot.

He undipped his comlink from his belt and turned away from Irolia.

"Uncle Luke? Can you hear me?" He kept his voice and the  volume  of  the

comlink down to a minimum.

"I hear you, Jacen. Have you found something?" "Not yet. I just wanted to

make sure you're okay." "Everything's fine. We're still on the ice barge,  not

far from the spaceport. We should be back  within  two  hours."  There  was  a

slight pause. "Is everything all right at your end?" "Well, something odd just

happened. Do you know if Soontir Fel has been in touch  with  Chief  Navigator

Aabe in the last half hour or so?" "Not that I'm aware of. He's been  with  us

the whole time." Aabe had lied about being sent by Fel  to  collect  Wyn.  But

why? Jacen thought hard. What was Aabe up to? he wondered. To  isolate  Jacen,

perhaps? He looked over to Commander Irolia.  She  was  sat  perfectly  still,

silently watching him. He sensed nothing untoward in the tone of her thoughts—

no anticipation, no nervousness—and there was nothing in the Force to  suggest

she was about to attack him. The threat had  to  be  directed  elsewhere.  But

where?

"Jacen?" His uncle sounded  concerned.  "What's  wrong?"  "It's  probably

nothing," he answered. "It's just that—" Before he could finish the  sentence,

however, a sense of extreme alarm surged through the  Force.  It  hadn't  come

from Luke, either, but rather from someone close to his uncle. And tangled  up

in the thought was an impression of a cold, white wasteland and howling winds.

"We're under attack!" came the urgent cry over the comlink.

"Aunt Mara!" Although she was thousands  of  kilometers  away,  he  found

himself instinctively jumping to his feet and going for his lightsaber.

Irolia  stood  also,   startled   by   Jacen's   inexplicable   outburst,

automatically reaching for her own weapon.

"What's going on?" she asked anxiously, clearly confused.

Jacen ignored her.

"Uncle Luke! Aunt Mara!" he called into  the  comlink.  "Answer  me!"  It

could have only been a few seconds before his uncle replied, but it felt  like

eons of tortured silence to Jacen.

"Jacen, I can't talk now," Luke said, voice crackling.

Then he was alone, desperately wanting to know exactly what had happened,

but understanding that it could be a while before  he  found  out.  There  was

betrayal in the air, so thick and cloying that he felt for a moment as  though

he couldn't breathe.

"May  the  Force  be  with  you,"  he  muttered  quietly  to  his  uncle,

reluctantly releasing the handgrip of his lightsaber. His thoughts  turned  to

Wyn, wherever she was. "And you." Jaina's eyes opened  to  bright  light.  She

winced and recoiled from the sudden rush of information.

"Where am I?" she croaked, squinting around as she tried to sit up.  Just

these simple tasks caused every muscle in her body to cry out in pain, and she

fleetingly wished she'd remained unconscious.

She appeared to be in a study of some kind,  although  the  details  were

still hazy. The smell of leather was strong in her nostrils, and her  questing

fingers quickly discovered the plush couch beneath her.

"Welcome back, Jaina." She turned slightly in the direction of the  voice

and made out a vague, green-faced blur standing by what appeared to be a door.

She hadn't really needed to look, though; she knew who the voice belonged to.

"Salkeli, you treacherous little—" "It's not there,"  someone  else  said

when her hand crept down to her side in search of her  lightsaber.  The  voice

was familiar, but a name didn't immediately spring to mind. "It's  all  right.

No harm will come to you—if you behave yourself,  that  is."  She  felt  naked

without her lightsaber, especially in such a weakened state. Two stun bolts so

close together had left her nervous system profoundly scrambled. Her eyes were

only slowly remembering how to focus.  Her  lightsaber  wasn't  all  that  was

missing, either; her comlink was gone, along with everything else  that  might

have enabled her to call for help.

She forced herself to sit up  straighter,  turning  to  face  the  second

person. He, too, was just a blur, but he wasn't to know that.

"Salkeli said someone wanted to talk to me," she said.  "I  presume  that

someone is you." Whoever he was, he was seated behind a wide desk and  dressed

in richly red garments. "You presume correctly." "So where exactly am I?"  she

asked again, glancing around the confines of the room,  hoping  for  something

familiar to fall into place.

"You are in my private chambers," the  man  answered.  'These  rooms  are

soundproofed and protected against all forms of electronic  infiltration.  The

door is blast-proof, and its lock can only be opened by my  thumb-print."  The

leather of his chair squeaked beneath him as he leaned back into it, obviously

trying to exude a calm and confident air. "Trust me when I say that  you  will

not be leaving here without my consent." "Yeah, I'm getting that  impression,"

she said, looking around again. Her depth of field  was  gradually  returning,

allowing her  to  make  things  out  more  clearly.  The  study  was  lavishly

appointed; polished wood cupboards containing delicate crystal ornaments—small

glasses and bowls, mostly, some of them veined with bright colors — lined  the

walls. The beauty of the objects, however, was somewhat diminished by  Salkeli

standing in front of them,  his  green  face  staring  back  at  her  with  an

expression of extreme smugness.

When she returned her gaze to the person sitting  behind  the  desk,  her

vision had snapped back into focus. Long-boned and  sharp-eyed,  Deputy  Prime

Minister Blaine Harris looked at her with a questioning look on his face.

"Well?" he asked, arms outstretched imploringly.  "Will  you  cooperate?"

She kept her surprise carefully in check. "That all depends." "On?"  "On  what

you plan to do with me, of course," she answered. "And also what you did  with

the credits." He frowned deeply. "Credits? What credits?" "The credits  you've

been siphoning from the Bakura treasury, of course," she said, taking a gamble

on a plausible theory. "Freedom discovered  the  leaks;  that's  why  you  had

Malinza put away. What I don't get, though, is what you wanted that  much  for

in the first place. I mean, what could you buy  with  all  those  millions  of

credits?" "Ah,  yes."  Harris  nodded  his  understanding.  "Salkeli  told  me

something about your little theory.  Correct  me  if  I'm  wrong,  but  didn't

Freedom fail to pin anything on me?" "Yes, but I'm sure Vyram would  have,  if

he'd been given the chance." "I very much doubt  that."  Harris  steepled  his

fingers in front of him, smiling thinly  behind  them.  "You  see,  it  really

wasn't me who stole those credits." Jaina forced a  disbelieving  laugh.  "You

expect me to—" "Quite honestly," he interjected, "I don't care if you  believe

me or not. Because the truth is, it wasn't me. If I had access  to  that  many

credits, do you really think I'd be employing spies like this? "  He  gestured

at Salkeli. The Rodian seemed completely unfazed by the obvious insult.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Jaina," Harris  went  on,  "but  I'm  not  your

thief. I was interested to learn about it, though, and I'm as curious  as  you

are to find out who is responsible. When this ridiculous farce is  over,  I'll

certainly make a point of looking into it more closely.  I'll  not  allow  the

Bakuran public to be bled dry." Jaina's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the Deputy

Prime Minister for any hint of duplicity. No matter how hard she  looked,  she

couldn't find anything. Nevertheless, she didn't believe him.  "You're  up  to

something," she said finally. "I know it." "Oh, I'm not  denying  that  for  a

second," he said with a laugh. "It's just not what you think." Harris  pressed

a control on his desk, and a section of the office wall slid to one side.  The

space behind it contained a holoprojector  three  meters  across.  The  Deputy

Prime Minister stood up to gain a better vantage point as  an  image  came  to

life within it.

Jaina recognized it from her approach path  to  Salis  D'aar:  a  massive

amphitheater  whose  walls  were  bedecked  with  multicolored  streamers  and

pennants bearing the  P'w'eck  and  Bakuran  emblems.  Banners  scrawled  with

greetings for the visiting aliens stretched between huge stone pillars  around

the outside, while overhead floated an enormous canopy that offered cover  for

the central arena, its underside painted  with  Bakura's  flag.  The  sun  was

rising into the sky behind the point of view of the holocam, casting a  golden

glow across the stone steps and pillars. People were already filing  into  the

seats, with guards in dark green uniforms making sure nobody  strayed  into  a

circular area in the center of the stadium — easily the most decorated section

in view.

"The ceremony," Jaina said.

Blaine Harris nodded. "It'll be under way within the hour.  From  what  I

understand, it's supposed to be quite impressive, too." "You're going  to  try

to stop it?" Harris glanced momentarily away from  the  holo  to  cast  her  a

scornful look. "Don't be a fool, girl," he said  with  obvious  contempt,  and

then turned back to the image. "My intentions are far more complex than that."

Jaina tried to force herself to think. Something was going on, but what?  "You

said 'farce,' " she prompted.

"I wasn't referring to the ceremony, if that's what you're thinking."  In

the holo, a squad of P'w'eck guards appeared. With  powerful  muscles  gliding

smoothly beneath dull scales, they spread out to inspect  the  circle  at  the

center of the stadium where, Jaina presumed, the ceremony  itself  would  take

place.

"They're  keeping  tight-lipped  about  the  ceremony,"  Harris  went  on

thoughtfully, still staring at the events unfolding.  "I  guess  that's  their

prerogative. It's a privilege for us to be part of it." "I thought the  people

on Bakura were only meant to be spectators." "Oh, we are. But  our  planet  is

becoming sacred, and that's not something that happens every day." "You really

believe in this stuff?" Jaina asked.

He found this amusing. "Of course I don't believe in it. But the  P'w'eck

do, and that's enough for me." He turned back to Jaina. "Have you ever noticed

the similarities between the Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong? Both cultures  are

xenophobic,  stratified,  religious,  and  expansionist.  Both  express  these

tendencies in violent methodologies. Both are, or have been, potent enemies of

the New Republic." "Just like the Yevetha," Jaina said.

Harris frowned. "What do they have to do with this?" She shook her  head.

"Perhaps nothing." Or everything, she added to herself.  "Go  on."  "Both  the

Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong use defeated foes  as  slaves—an  ugly  practice

that I'm pleased to see the P'w'eck abandon. That's one of  two  ways  they've

learned from their old masters." "The second being?..." "No  more  xenophobia,

of course," he said, as though stating the obvious. "I'm hoping we can make it

three ways. By allowing them their ritual, they might also learn to turn their

religion into a nonviolent activity. Then we'll work on their caste system and

see if we can't make the slave mentality a little more  flexible.  Acceptance,

you see, can be as effective a tool for change as domination and  force."  She

frowned, understanding what he was saying but not getting  the  context.  "I'm

sorry but I think I'm missing the point you're trying to make." He moved  away

from the holo with a sigh and began to pace. "My  point,  Jaina,  is  that  we

don't need the New Republic telling us what to do here on Bakura. We can  make

our own decisions, and you breathing down our  neck  only  makes  things  more

complicated." "But we're not here to do  that,"  she  protested.  "We're  just

trying to make sure that everything is okay with—" "Really?"  he  cut  in.  "I

find that very hard to believe." He stopped a few steps away from her, staring

fiercely down into her eyes. "On the eve of our  greatest  moment  —  alliance

with the heirs of our old enemy—you turn up  to  sow  the  seeds  of  dissent.

Coincidence? I don't think so." "Wait a minute. We were called  to  Bakura  by

someone who was concerned that something bad was going on." "And who was  that

exactly?" She glanced away. "An  informant,"  she  said,  unable  to  be  more

precise.

He snorted. "If there's one thing I learned in the military, it's that an

ill-informed informant can do more damage than a convincing double agent.  The

only way to be certain of anything, my dear girl, is to see it with  your  own

eyes. And even then..." He turned back to the projection, sentence unfinished.

When he spoke again, his tone  was  softer,  the  subject  changed.  "I  never

thought I'd see this day. After all the years of fear and  doubt,  Bakura  has

finally found a means  to  become  what  we  have  always  wanted  it  to  be:

independent and safe. From this day forward, Bakura will be a world in its own

right—not one shackled to the Empire or the Republic or the Ssi-ruuk. With the

P'w'eck, we can forge a new alliance—an alliance of our own choosing, not  one

forced upon us by circumstance. Peace will never  again  be  ripped  out  from

under us by powers from afar. It is time  for  us  to  be  strong,  at  last."

Remembering the stories she'd been told of riots and disturbances, Jaina said,

"I take it not everyone feels the same way about this as  you  do."  "That  is

only to be expected. It can take people time to realize what is good for them.

" An apologetic smile flickered across his angular features. "I am  self-aware

enough to understand that I am betraying some of my own principles  here.  But

as those who believe in the Cosmic Balance might say,  sometimes  it  takes  a

great evil to bring about the greatest good." "Exactly what sort of  evil  are

we talking about?" He ignored her question. "It's odd, you know, that we  here

on Bakura should defy the will of the Jedi so blatantly. I mean, not just that

it was your uncle, Luke Sky-walker, who  played  such  an  important  part  in

saving us from the Ssi-ruuk so long ago,  but  that  our  beliefs  so  closely

mirror yours. You, too, believe in a cosmic  system  of  checks  and  balances

that, ultimately, ensures life will thrive. I don't know  if  you're  familiar

with the beliefs of the native population of the planet, the Kurtzen, but they

cling to a faith in a  universal  life  force  not  dissimilar  to  your  all-

pervasive Force. Combine the two, and we might have become you—but  there  has

never been a Jedi from Bakura that I am aware of. I find that  strange."  "You

think we're neglecting you, Deputy Prime  Minister?  Is  that  it?  There  are

thousands of worlds out there. It takes time to search them all—time we  don't

have at the moment with the Yuuzhan Vong—"  His  laughter  cut  her  off.  "My

motive is not one of jealousy! You see—" A buzzing sound came from the door.

Harris glanced at Salkeli, who straightened and raised his blaster. "This

could be it." The Deputy Prime Minister came back around  the  desk  to  check

something, and nodded. "And not a second too soon." He looked up at Jaina with

a  smile.  "It  would  seem  that  the  reinforcements  have  arrived.   Quite

unintentionally, I might add, but still..." He gestured to  Salkeli,  and  the

Rodian crossed the room to take Jaina by the arm, pressing  the  blaster  into

her side. She decided to play along for the  moment.  The  Rodian's  will  was

weak, and it probably wouldn't take much to  make  him  turn  the  blaster  on

Harris. However, she thought it would be more prudent to wait for a  while  to

see if she could find out just what Harris's plan was—and whether there was  a

way to stop it.

Salkeli walked her to a position in the corner of the room, out of  sight

of the door. He raised the blaster to her neck, pushing it  firmly  under  her

chin as he clamped one leathery hand over  her  mouth.  Then  he  signaled  to

Harris, and the Deputy Prime Minister crossed the room and pressed  his  thumb

against the lock.

The double door slid open with a hiss and three people entered in a rush.

Jaina didn't recognize them at first — they were hooded  and  cloaked—but  she

could tell that it wasn't her parents and Tahiri. Clearly,  they  weren't  who

Harris had meant by the "reinforcements" arriving. It wasn't  until  the  door

shut behind them and the one in front turned to face Harris that Jaina saw who

it was.

"We're in trouble," Malinza Thanas said. The  others  pulled  back  their

hoods, revealing Jjorg and Vyram.

Harris looked concerned. "What happened to Zel?" "He  was  shot  when  we

fled the Stack," Malinza said, her voice caught somewhere  between  anger  and

tears. " They shot him, Blaine!" "The main thing  is  that  you're  safe,"  he

returned coolly. "Everything will be all right now." "How can you say that? It

was all we could do just to get here  without  being  seen!  And  that's  only

because security is distracted by the ceremony. We're never going to  be  able

to show our faces again unless you find out who's behind this!" "Behind  what,

my dear?" "Framing me for kidnapping, for one—then letting me escape  to  make

it look like I'm guilty. I'll probably get blamed for Zel's death,  as  well!"

Malinza sounded like she was on the edge of breaking down,  but  with  obvious

effort she brought her emotions under control. "We've lost  Salkeli,  too.  He

created a diversion  while  we  got  away,  but  he  didn't  meet  us  at  the

rendezvous. I'm worried that—" "You should know I'd never let myself be caught

or killed, Malinza," the Rodian  said,  stepping  out  from  where  he'd  kept

himself hidden and dragging Jaina with him. "But I guess you  didn't  know  me

that well, did you?" Malinza turned, her look of surprise deepening  when  she

saw Jaina. "I-I don't understand." "That is  becoming  increasingly  obvious,"

Harris said, producing a blaster of his own from  beneath  his  scarlet  robe.

"Your weapons on the floor, if you would be so kind." Malinza's face was  pale

as she dropped her small blaster onto the rug in front of  her.  Jjorg  obeyed

with a snarl, while Vyram calmly complied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"What do you intend to do?" Malinza asked, fighting even  harder  now  to

keep her emotions in check.

"Do?" Harris waved Salkeli forward, and the Rodian pushed Jaina  over  to

the others. "The job you set out to do, of  course.  Why  else  would  I  have

funded you, Malinza, if our goals weren't the same in  the  first  place?  I'm

going to unite the people against the Galactic Alliance.  With  the  P'w'eck's

help, I will make Bakura as safe as it can possibly be from outside  invasion.

We will govern our own destiny, forever." He smiled  coldly.  "The  only  real

difference between your plans and my own is that, when mine come to  fruition,

the people of Bakura will be united behind me, not  you.  Which  is  a  shame,

really, because it will be your tragic death that finally mobilizes them. That

and the terrible betrayal of the Jedi who came to enslave us  once  again."  "

What? " asked Malinza and Jaina at the same time.

"All will be made clear in due course, I assure you. Now, Salkeli, if you

could bind their hands, please." The Rodian dragged Jaina to join the  others,

bolstered his blaster, and produced electronic binders for the  four  of  them

from a drawer in Harris's desk. With only the one blaster on them  now,  Jaina

felt a heightened  edginess  in  the  Freedom  members.  She  tried  to  catch

Malinza's eye, but the girl was steadfastly ignoring her—although whether from

embarrassment or anger, she couldn't tell.

"You're crazy if you think you're going to get  away  with  this,"  Jaina

said, trying to divert the burden of rebellion onto her shoulders.

"Get away with what, exactly?" Harris laughed. "You don't even know  what

it is I intend to do!" The Deputy Prime Minister was finding the  whole  thing

entirely too amusing for Jaina's liking. That troubled Jaina deeply. That  and

the cool readiness with which he held the blaster trained on his captives.

Malinza glared at Salkeli as he started to put  the  binders  around  her

wrists.

"We trusted you," she hissed.

"If it makes you feel any better, Malinza, it'll  probably  be  the  last

mistake you're ever going to make." "Malinza, no!" Jaina called out  when  she

saw the girl noticeably stiffen.

But it was too late. Not waiting for the binders to snap shut and tighten

about her wrists, Malinza pushed Salkeli's hands aside and brought her knee up

into his groin. As he jackknifed forward,  she  clubbed  him  to  the  ground.

Barely had the look of surprise begun to form  on  his  face  when  Jjorg  was

moving forward also. The long-limbed blond lunged across the room, her  strong

thighs propelling her forward, reaching for Harris's gun.

He didn't even move, except to pull the trigger. A single shot  rang  out

and Jjorg hit the floor with a sickening thud.

Then the blaster was on Jaina.

"Whatever you're thinking,"  he  said  softly,  "I  advise  against  it."

Malinza backed away, mouth open in horror as she stared at Jjorg's limp  body.

Vyram made a move as though to help his  fallen  comrade,  but  Jaina  quickly

pulled him back.

"He means it," she said. "That blaster's not set to  stun."  "Why  didn't

you do something?" Malinza asked, her words  steeped  in  accusation  and  her

cheeks soaked with tears.

Jaina shook her head. There was no way to say it nicely.

Harris saved her the trouble. "If Jjorg hadn't resisted, she'd  still  be

alive." Jaina would have perhaps phrased it less bluntly—and  added  something

to the effect that there would come an opportunity to escape later, when  they

found out what exactly Harris was up to—but that was the essence of it.

Salkeli had climbed back to his feet, looking a little gray. Stepping  up

close to Malinza, he snarled, "Don't ever try that  again."  He  fastened  the

binders then, and Jaina saw Malinza wince as he set them to tighten around the

girl's wrists — obviously tighter than  they  needed  to  be.  Malinza  didn't

complain; she just let him do it with her jaw firmly clenched, her eyes unable

to hide the anger and betrayal she was feeling.

"This actually works out well for me," Harris said as Salkeli bound Vyram

next. "You saved me the trouble of trying to decide which one of you to shoot.

There's nothing quite like a body to prove that there was a  strug-gle,  don't

you think? Unfortunately, security was so distracted by the Keeramak  and  the

ceremony that they didn't notice a slight glitch in  the  cams  monitoring  my

office antechamber and the corridors outside. When they do, I'll  be  sure  to

point out your prowess, Vyram,  at  slicing  into  official  systems.  Such  a

disruption would be well within your capabilities, wouldn't  you  say?"  Jaina

held out her hands when it was her turn for the binders.  As  Salkeli  reached

around her wrists to seal the durasteel binders she slid a simple thought into

his mind: the click of the binders locking. She reinforced  it  with  a  wince

similar to Malinza's, as though they were pinching her skin.

He leered at her as he stepped back, confident that all of  the  captives

were now effectively bound. Jaina smiled back at him  defiantly.  The  binders

were tight around her wrists but not locked. A good tug would have them  open,

when the time was right. Then she would help Malinza and her friends escape.

Salkeli produced his blaster and took his place  beside  Harris.  Malinza

glowered at him, eyes filled with hate, while  Harris  stopped  to  check  the

growing crowd in the holoprojector before switching it  off  and  closing  the

panel.

"Within the hour, this planet will be a consecrated part of  the  P'w'eck

Emancipation Movement. And you, my dear Malinza, will  be  a  martyr  to  your

cause. Doesn't that fill you with pride?" Malinza spat on the  carpet  at  his

feet.

Harris simply smiled back at  her,  his  eyes  triumphant  and  gloating.

"Spoken like a true rebel."  He  faced  his  accomplice,  then.  "Salkeli,  in

position, please." The Rodian ushered his three prisoners closer to the  door,

and Harris opened it with his thumbprint.  Jaina,  Malinza,  and  Vyram  filed

outside with the blaster pointed at their backs.

"Where are you taking us?" Malinza asked. "Wait and see," Harris said. "I

guarantee you won't be disappointed."

PART FOUR   CONSECRATION

"Disappointed?" The note of incredulity in Jag's voice could barely  hide

his irritation. "Jaina is still missing and you think I might be  disappointed

that I'm not going to see the ceremony?" The voice  of  Twin  Sun  Three  fell

silent, her attempt at lightening the mood having fallen painfully flat.

Jag clicked twice to remind his pilots not to clutter the airwaves,  even

as he chided himself for being snappy. He was concerned by  Jaina's  continued

absence, but at the same time he had to trust in Jaina's ability to look after

herself. Besides which, if anything terrible had happened to her, he was  sure

Leia would sense it. That Jaina hadn't called for help yet through  the  Force

suggested that she was at least still in  control  of  her  situation—whatever

that might be. And until such a time as she did get in touch with  anyone,  he

would just have to continue on as though everything were normal—and that meant

concentrating on flying.

He had taken a mixed flight out to patrol the edges of  Selonia's  orbit,

wary of any "unauthorized" activity while attention was  focused  below.  Both

P'w'eck and  Bakuran  contingents  were  quiet,  the  two  big  alien  assault

carriers, Errinung'ka  and  Firrinree,  orbiting  in  quadrants  diametrically

opposed to the two local defenders, Defender and Sentinel. The latter had  two

full squadrons of P'w'eck fighter craft stationed at close quarters, plus  two

squat picket ships. If things were to turn nasty, for  whatever  reason,  they

could do a lot of damage while the Bakurans tried to get their balance.  While

Jag obviously hoped nothing untoward would happen, he had to think tactically.

"Don't just outguess your enemy," his father had once said,  "but  outsee

him, too. Always assume that he's two steps ahead of the current play, and  be

three steps ahead yourself." Jag took his clawcraft and his two wingmates in a

wide arc around Selonia. The frigate basked in  the  light  of  Bakura's  sun,

unmolested and apparently completely ignored by the forces surrounding it.

He could sense games all around him, moving slowly toward their endplays.

It irked him once again to be so far away from the action taking  place  below

on Bakura's surface. But if nothing came of it, and  all  his  second-guessing

proved unfounded, he wouldn't be disappointed. A large part of him agreed with

Leia that maybe, just maybe, this deal with the P'w'eck would turn out  to  be

the best thing that had ever happened to Bakura...

The voice of the  comm  operator  on  Selonia  suddenly  cut  across  his

thoughts.

"Launches detected!" "I'm on it," he said, quickly swinging his clawcraft

in the direction of the numerous vessels his sensors  detected  emerging  from

Sentinel's launching bays. His wingmates were close behind him, following  him

in for a closer look.

"Has Bakuran Defense Fleet advised us of the  launches?"  he  asked.  The

number of ships leaving the cruiser was already up to twenty and still rising.

"As far as they're concerned, I don't think they feel they have to," came

the reply. "But I'll check with them anyway." Jag was already close enough  to

pick out the types of craft emerging from the launching bays,  but  this  only

confused him. It was a mixed bag, consisting of  Y  -  and  X-wings  from  the

Bakuran Defense Forces, along with an equal number  of  Ssi-ruuvi—P'w'eck,  he

reminded himself—Swarm-class droid fighters. They flew  in  elegant  formation

out of the bays and into orbit, peeling off in threes and fives, still divided

more or less equally between both forces.

"Apparently it's an honor guard," came  back  Selonia's  operator.  "I've

notified Captain Mayn." Honor guard? It was plausible enough, he supposed. The

ships  were  flying  tightly  together,  and  had  obviously  rehearsed  their

maneuvers well beforehand. That showed a degree of cooperation between the two

forces—as well as trust.

But it still troubled him. The number of ships was approaching fifty, far

too many for the depleted Twin Suns to tackle on its own—especially if it  was

caught off guard.

Be three steps ahead...

"Do you think they'd mind if the Galactic Alliance joined  them  to  show

our respects, too?" he asked Selonia.

"I'll ask." While he waited on a reply, on another channel he alerted the

Twin Suns pilots on standby, telling them to kit up  and  launch  as  soon  as

possible.

"We're on our way," Jocell said, adding dryly: "I don't think any  of  us

really expected this to be a slow day, did we?" Jag picked a flight  of  three

ships, two of them droid fighters, and tailed them around the planet. The trio

didn't react to his presence, but a transmission from Selonia not  long  after

confirmed that they'd been noticed.

"They're requesting we stay well clear," came Captain Mayn over the  open

channel. "I informed them that we would happily comply, but that we would have

to take the necessary steps to ensure our security."  Jag  smiled  tightly  to

himself. What Mayn was saying was that, short of Jag provoking an altercation,

he had a free hand to do whatever he felt necessary.

With this in mind, he continued to shadow the trio of fighters. The total

number of ships in the "honor guard" had just reached an even  hundred—and  it

was still climbing.

We're under attack!

In an instant, Saba was awake and clambering to her  feet.  Disconcerted,

she tried to get her bearings. Then she remembered: she'd been  resting  in  a

large chair on the ice barge's opulent observation deck. She'd nodded off  and

fallen into a peaceful dream of being up on the slopes of the  Listian  Hills.

The sky had been red and cloudy, the scent on the breeze relaxing,  and  she'd

lain there among the warm rocks, listening to the  restive  growlings  of  her

hatchmates nearby...

Then Mara's cry through the Force had snapped her back  to  reality,  and

she realized with some disappointment that the growling  she'd  heard  in  the

dream was in fact the rasping of the barge's many repulsors over  the  surface

of the ice beneath them. With a grunt, she shook herself free of the dream and

made her way over to where the others were standing.

The barge was a shallow,  oval-shaped  vessel  that  skidded  across  the

surface of glaciers and ice fields with  more  speed  than  grace.  The  three

passenger decks bulged out of the top like  an  afterthought,  ringed  by  the

powerful generators and repulsors that kept it in the air. It possessed  heavy

shields that kept the icy wind at bay, but the howling was still audible as  a

thin, far-off Ixll-like wail. There were four weapons emplacements around  the

curved edge of the barge, and they currently pointed at  something  flickering

in and out of sight through dense snow spray off to the starboard side.

"There are two more behind  us,"  Soontir  Fel  said.  One  thick  finger

stabbed at a  display.  Ten  swift  targets  surrounded  the  barge.  Software

identified the objects as smaller than a  snowspeeder,  but  just  as  heavily

armed and shielded. They looked like fat coins tipped on their sides,  ripping

edge-first through the air. "Single-person fliers, I imagine, given the  speed

they're moving." A warning shot on the  port  side  bounced  off  the  barge's

shields and into a snowbank. Steam exploded from the point of impact,  sending

a white cloud high into the air.

"Pirates?" Master Skywalker asked.

"Possibly." Fel rocked the barge in  the  direction  of  the  snow-flier,

forcing it to swerve away.

"Shouldn't we try to contact  the  spaceport  to  let  them  know  what's

happening?" Mara asked.

"Already tried," Fel said, shifting the barge suddenly  to  starboard.  A

loud thump sounded as the barge's shields connected with one  of  the  fliers.

"But we're being jammed." "If they're not pirates, could they  be  enemies  of

yours?" Stalgis asked.

"Sure, but which ones?" Fel grunted. "Whoever they are, we  can't  outrun

or outshoot them. Our one advantage is the shield, which  I'm  fairly  certain

they can't take out. Unless they bring in something bigger, we should be  safe

in here." Syal Antilles put a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "When  we  reach  the

spaceport, security will drive them away." A nearby explosion rocked  the  ice

barge from nose to stern. Fragments of ice ricocheted off the  barge's  shield

and swept into its wake. Another explosion cracked  the  ice  ahead  of  them,

sending spreading fingers across the endless white plain. Fel banked to  avoid

the instability.

When he tried to return to his original course, more fire from the  snow-

fliers forced him back.

"That's if we can make  it  there,"  he  belatedly  responded  to  Syal's

comment.

"They're trying to force us off course," Mara said.

"I think you're right," Fel growled. "If it was  just  me,  I'd  take  my

chances over those crevasses. But—" He glanced at Syal,  standing  behind  him

with her hand still on his shoulder. He shook his head. "I'm not  prepared  to

take that risk right now." "I'm sorry," Luke said. "It's us they want." "Don't

be too sure. I'm not popular with some of the syndics because I want to change

their ways. All it would take is for one of them to  decide  to  make  a  move

while I'm distracted—" Another explosion rocked the barge, forcing it to  turn

farther starboard.

"Either way," Mara said, "we're all in this together right  now."  "Maybe

if I give myself up to them, they'll leave the rest of you alone," Fel said.

"No!" Syal responded instantly. "I won't let you do that!"  Luke  agreed.

"It would be a pointless sacrifice. They won't leave any witnesses.  You  know

that. In fact, if anything they'll use us as scapegoats. What  could  be  more

believable than a spat between  old  enemies—especially  if  the  accused  are

killed resisting capture?" Fel acquiesced with a nod. "So what do you suggest?

" "There's clearly no point running, and we can't beat them with brute force."

Luke's gaze wandered around him as he thought for a moment. "I suggest we stop

trying altogether." "I thought you just said we shouldn't give them what  they

want," Syal said.

"I did." "So what are you saying?" pressed the  woman.  Master  Skywalker

smiled. "I'm saying we should maybe give  them  a  little  more  than  they're

expecting." Leia followed an usher to their seats, accompanied by Han,  C-3PO,

and her two Noghri bodyguards. The stadium was enormous, practically  a  giant

crater lined  with  stalls,  with  the  more  comfortable  booths  higher  up,

affording the more privileged guests a better view  of  the  proceedings  that

would soon be taking place in the stadium's center. The  delegation  from  the

Galactic Alliance was, of course, among  those  privileged  guests.  They  had

reserved seating to the right of Prime Minister Cunder-tol's stand,  where  he

would be surrounded by senior Senators atop a large  podium  that  jutted  out

from the ring of seats. The day was warm; floating sunshades circulated lazily

above the crowd, propelled by the ever-present re-pulsors.  Among  the  crowd,

she made out signs and banners, although she couldn't quite make  out  exactly

what they were saying. She guessed that they'd belong to both  protestors  and

supporters of the Keeramak and its P'w'eck revolutionaries. This was a big day

for Bakura, and a lot hung in the balance.

Nothing much was happening just yet, though. The Prime Minister had still

to appear and, after the early-morning meeting, he would no doubt be  avoiding

the Galactic Alliance when he did. Fifty P'w'eck soldiers maintained a perfect

ring around the area on which the ceremony was to take place, well  away  from

the nearest seats in the center of the stadium.

Han's hand found hers and gave it a tight squeeze. Warmth flooded through

her, reminding her of why she loved him. Even in difficult times, when  events

threatened to overtake everything, he was always there  for  her.  Flashes  of

irritation hid a depth of emotion that surprised even him, sometimes,  and  of

which she was always grateful to be the recipient.

"Do you think the rain's going to hold off?" he asked.

She followed his gaze. Dense clouds were building on the western horizon,

promising a tropical storm.

"If it doesn't," she said, "then I guess we're going to get wet." "Great.

That's really going to add insult to injury." A fanfare sounded as  they  took

their seats, announcing the formal arrival of the Bakuran and P'w'eck leaders.

Prime Minister Cundertol, dressed  in  a  magnificent  purple  robe,  and  the

Keeramak led a large group of human,  Kurtzen,  and  P'w'eck  officials  in  a

cleared path from the base of the stadium to the central ring. There,  to  the

stirring sound of the Bakuran anthem, they turned to address  the  crowd  and,

symbolically, Bakura itself.

"My people," Cundertol began,  his  voice  magnified  a  thousandfold  by

speakers floating high  above  the  stadium,  "welcome  to  you  all  on  this

magnificent occasion. With our new allies, the P'w'eck, we  join  together  to

usher in a new era of prosperity and peace. As neighbors and friends, we  will

embrace the universal truths that bind together all  cultures.  Today,  Bakura

achieves its destiny, free from fear of  old  enemies  and  working  with  new

allies to build a common future." The crowd responded with equal parts  cheers

and boos as he stepped back to allow the Keeramak to speak. The mutant Ssi-ruu

looked radiant in a shining silver harness trailing multicolored  ribbons  and

tiny bells that jangled delicately with each movement. Its scales  glinted  in

the weakened morning light, making it hard to tell where  its  outfit  stopped

and its skin began. Not even the growing cloud  cover  could  dim  its  unique

beauty.

The powerful tones that issued from its throat boomed deafeningly  across

the stadium.

"People of Bakura,"  came  the  translation  when  it  had  finished  its

address, "I am proud to be here as the  leader  of  a  liberated  people.  The

P'w'eck species, no longer bound to an oppressive regime rooted in cruelty and

bloodshed, joins with you in spiritual communion  as  our  two  great  nations

create a bond that will run much deeper than mere friendship. With the signing

of the treaty, we will be one, our fates forever linked!"  The  response  from

the crowd was as mixed as it had been for Cundertol, but  it  didn't  seem  to

faze either leader. They bowed to one another, then the Prime Minister and his

contingent made their way back through the crowd to their seats. As  Leia  had

guessed, he acknowledged her and Han with only a formal nod.

Han muttered something to the effect that he wouldn't trade a bootful  of

mynock droppings for Cundertol on a good day. Leia shushed him. There  was  no

sign of the Deputy Prime Minister—an absence no one had mentioned,  but  which

she found interesting.

There was no time to ponder it, however, as the ceremony was  immediately

under way.  P'w'eck  priests  bedecked  with  streamers  began  warbling  some

monotonous chant as the Keeramak prowled  the  edges  of  the  cleared  space,

scattering glinting shards in a perfect circle around  the  alien  contingent.

Every few seconds, in counterpoint to the chanting, the Keeramak  would  raise

its head and intone a phrase in its own tongue. This time there was no  public

interpreter to explain what was being said.

"Can you translate this?" Leia whispered to C-3PO.

"Only in part, Mistress. The dialect is not the same in which the P'w'eck

converse. It appears to be an ancient, ritual tongue, perhaps preserved  for—"

"Spare us the details, Goldenrod," Han said in an  irritable  undertone,  "and

just get to the  point,  will  you?"  "As  you  wish,  sir.  The  Keeramak  is

addressing the life spirit of the galaxy, beseeching it to hear him and  grant

his wishes. The golden light of this morning is yours,'  it  is  saying.  'The

blue-tinted skies and white clouds are  yours.  Where  leaves  are  green  and

flowers bloom in many colors, you are there. Where  children  grow  strong  in

limb and heart, you are there.' " "Very poetic," Han muttered. "How much  more

of this is there?" "The ceremony is scheduled to last one hour, sir."  "That's

just great." Han stretched his legs in front  of  him  and  locked  his  hands

behind his head. "Wake me when it's over, will you, Leia?"  The  floating  van

pulled up outside an unguarded entrance to the stadium. Goure, at the controls

of the aircar following the van, drove past, rounded a corner, and came  to  a

halt. Tahiri was the first to climb out, running back to the corner. Goure was

close behind. Once there, the two of them cautiously  peered  around  just  in

time to see Blaine Harris lead Jaina, Malinza Thanas, and two others into  the

stadium.

"So much for security," Tahiri muttered over the sound of chanting coming

from speakers within the stadium. "There's no one  at  the  gates.  They  just

walked right in!" "I suspect it was arranged that way." The Ryn's tail brushed

rhythmically against her legs. "And if we're quick enough, we might be able to

take advantage of the situation, too." Together they approached the  entrance,

their pace hurried but wary, aware that at any moment alarms  might  start  to

ring out. In the end, they managed to reach the gateway without  incident  and

slip inside undetected. The rumble of the crowd  within  wrapped  around  them

like a warm and comforting embrace.  Whatever  was  taking  place  inside  the

stadium, Tahiri thought, it certainly sounded impressive.

"Can you sense your friend?" Goure asked.

Jaina's mind had been shining like a beacon since well before she'd  left

Blaine Harris's office, just minutes after Tahiri and Goure had arrived. While

she and the Ryn had been trying to convince a security guard to let them in to

see the Deputy Prime Minister, Tahiri had detected that Jaina was on the move.

Retreating from the ministerial offices, Tahiri and Goure had  found  a  droid

interface, via which the Ryn had been able  to  determine  from  security  cam

images that Harris was moving with Jaina. Although they had no idea  of  where

exactly the Deputy Prime Minister was taking Jaina, they'd set out in pursuit,

with Tahiri beginning to despair of being able to reach Harris in time to stop

the ceremony. That they had ended up at the stadium where the ceremony  itself

was taking place was indeed a stroke of luck. Perhaps, she thought, the Deputy

Prime Minister had the same idea  they  had,  and  was  wanting  to  stop  the

ceremony before Cundertol's plan—whatever it was—came into effect.

But there was an  edge  to  Jaina's  thoughts  that  undermined  Tahiri's

confidence. Something wasn't quite right. If Jaina was Harris's prisoner, then

what did that mean? Tahiri was finding it increasingly difficult to  tell  who

was on what side—which made knowing what to do almost impossible.

"Well? "Goure asked.

Tahiri nodded. "Yeah, I can sense her  all  right."  Then  together  they

padded silently down the corridors, following Jaina's presence deep  into  the

bowels of the stadium.

"Where are you taking us?" Jaina demanded.

Harris, a few paces ahead, ignored her. Salkeli gave her a shove  in  the

shoulder from behind with the butt of his weapon. It  was  a  simple  message:

Shut up and keep moving. She did so, following the Deputy Prime Minister  down

a wide ramp and through a series of archways barely high enough to accommodate

his large frame. A short time later, they stopped before a  sealed  door  that

looked big enough to drive a landspeeder through.

It opened when Blaine Harris keyed a long alphanumeric sequence into  the

lock.

"Move," he ordered curtly,  waving  her  and  the  surviving  members  of

Freedom ahead of him.

Jaina found herself in an equipment locker, empty  except  for  a  single

metal container in the center of the room.

"A little bare for my tastes," she said dryly. "But I guess  it  will  do

for now." "As good a place as any to die, you  think?"  Harris  countered.  He

closed the door and strode over to stand beside Jaina. "Take  a  look  at  the

box; tell me what you see." Jaina squatted to take a  closer  look,  carefully

maintaining the pretense that her wrists were still securely  bound.  After  a

moment's consideration, she shrugged. "A remote detonator?" "Very good,"  said

Harris. "Now press the red button." She laughed humorlessly. "You  can't  be—"

"Do it," Harris insisted, raising his weapon  and  pressing  it  to  Malinza's

forehead. "Do it  or  I  shoot  the  girl."  Jaina  glanced  at  Malinza.  Her

expression was determined, but her eyes couldn't hide her fear. They both knew

that Harris's threats weren't idle.

"Okay," she said,  reaching  out  with  her  seemingly  bound  hands  and

depressing the button. A numeric timer came to life, counting  down  from  ten

standard minutes.

Harris nodded in satisfaction, lowering the blaster to his side. "And now

that your fingerprints are on the button, your  fate  is  effectively  sealed.

Once you're dead and the bomb goes off, there'll be no one to  plead  in  your

defense." Jaina focused her energy, forcing herself to remain calm.

Soon, she told herself. Just a little bit longer...

"You know," she said, standing, "blowing up the stadium  isn't  going  to

help relations with the P'w'eck." It was as much to stall Harris as it was  to

fish for information from the man.

"If that was my intention," he said, "then yes, I have no doubt that such

an action would seriously compromise relations with the P'w'eck. But it's not.

Well, not the entire stadium, anyway. Just  the  part  where  my  enemies  are

seated." My enemies...

"Prime Minister Cundertol?" Then, with a terrible  realization  spreading

through her, she said, "My parents?" His smile was wide and  cruel.  "Yes,  my

dear. What will become evident when the pieces are put together  is  that  you

planted the bomb to derail the treaty with the P'w'eck. The Jedi  didn't  want

Bakura to leave the Galactic Alliance, and  they  were  prepared  to  stop  at

nothing to prevent this from  happening.  Your  parents,  unfortunately,  were

simply necessary sacrifices to the cause. Thinking that you were helping  her,

Malinza Thanas was convinced by you to kidnap me and force your way  into  the

stadium, where a bomb  awaited.  But  just  in  time,  your  evil  plans  were

discovered by the misguided but loyal young Malinza who, at the  cost  of  her

own life and the lives of her friends, helped release me. Alas, not in time to

prevent the detonation of the bomb. The Prime Minister will be  killed,  along

with much of the Senate." "And you step in to  make  sure  the  ceremony  goes

ahead as planned, right?" Jaina finished for him.

"In memory of the brave Malinza  Thanas,  of  course,"  he  added,  still

smiling widely. "It's all rather poetic, don't you think?" "It's  abominable,"

Malinza muttered, unable to hide the tremor from her voice.

"I think efficient sounds better."  Jaina  glanced  at  the  timer  while

Harris gloated. She had only seven and a half minutes left to deal  with  both

Harris and Salkeli, as well as deactivate the bomb.  Even  for  a  Jedi,  that

seemed a tall order.

Leia watched with interest as the P'w'eck priests added a swaying,  fluid

dance to their weird chant. The Keera-mak had completed  the  circle  and  was

addressing the sky above, opening its arms  as  if  to  encompass  the  entire

world.

'The oceans of space have parted to create this island of bounty,'  "  C-

3PO continued to translate. " 'Even in the desert  of  the  void,  oases  must

exist. We invite you to share this one with  us  in  the  spirit  of  galactic

unity: one mind, one body, one spirit, one...'  I'm  afraid  I  am  unable  to

translate this particular phrase." "Remind me again why we had  to  be  here,"

Han whispered. Leia shushed him again.

"The stars shine kindly upon this world," the Keera-mak said, "for it  is

a blessed place." Leia wasn't so sure about that. Bakura  had  seen  its  fair

share of trouble, and she doubted some alien  blessing  was  going  to  change

that. If the Yuuzhan Vong kept coming, it was going to take  more  than  hand-

waving and the jingling of a few bells to keep them at bay.

Mind you, she thought, if the  P'w'eck  turned  out  to  be  as  good  at

fighting as the Ssi-ruuk had been, the chances were they'd  give  the  Yuuzhan

Vong a run for their money. The Ssi-ruuk fought  well  when  forced  into  it.

Their fear of dying away from a consecrated world lent any engagements outside

the Imperium a hurried,  almost  frantic  air—which  was  probably  why,  Leia

thought, they were so good at the quick strike. They  had  honed  this  tactic

over the years until they had become the masters of  it.  And  the  more  such

raids they won, the stronger they became, since the object  was  as  often  to

take captives for entechment as it was to destroy.

Still, she couldn't help feeling a growing edginess as the ceremony built

in intensity. The chanting had reached an almost fever pitch—so much  so  that

C-3PO was barely able to keep up with the Keeramak's intonations.

The crowd was utterly silent now. Even  Han  abandoned  all  pretence  of

disinterest, leaning forward as though  hypnotized  by  the  swaying,  singing

aliens.

"... tighten the bonds... conjoined in glorious synergy... although space

may separate... as one in the creche of stars..."  Then  suddenly  a  stab  of

urgency cut though her. She didn't know where it was coming  from,  at  first—

until she identified its source as the Force, and from outside her.

"Han," she whispered. Then, louder, to be heard over the  P'w'eck:  "Han,

it's Jaina!" He instantly snapped upright in  his  seat.  "Where?"  he  asked,

looking vaguely into the crowd in search of his  daughter.  "  Where?  Is  she

okay? I don't see her!" "She's not here!" Leia struggled to interpret what she

was feeling. "She's calling to me through the Force. She's in trouble—but  her

thoughts aren't focused on herself. She's trying to warn us. She's—" She shook

her head, unable to get a proper reading on the message. "Something's about to

happen." Han turned to his wife. "What is it?" Leia closed her  eyes  to  sort

out a mad jumble  of  wordless  impressions.  Images  she  couldn't  interpret

flooded into her on a tide of growing urgency.

"Han, I think we need to get out of here. Quickly!" Han rose to his  feet

immediately. He knew better than to question the instincts of  both  his  wife

and his daughter. With Cakhmain and Meewalh gathered close around Leia, he got

to his feet and started to lead the way out of the stadium. No one  paid  them

any attention; they were all too busy concentrating on  the  spectacle  taking

place down below in the stadium's center.

They reached the edge of the prestige stand unmolested. No assassins  had

lunged at them out of the crowd, nor any threats been issued. But there was no

denying Leia's nervousness. Whatever Jaina was sending her via the  Force,  it

was getting more urgent with each passing moment.

"What's going on, Leia?" Han asked at one point. "Where is  she?"  "She's

near here. I don't want to distract her, Han.  She's—"  A  near-perfect  image

formed in her mind: explosives, a timer, seconds decreasing rapidly in number.

"Oh—it's coming!" she gasped. "We have to get down! Run, everyone,  run!"

She shouted this last comment to the people around her, but no one  seemed  to

pay her any mind. They were still taken by what was going on below. Her Noghri

bodyguards bustled their two human charges and C-3PO toward an exit  from  the

stadium. "No!" she shouted. "There's not enough time! Get down! Get down!" Her

bodyguards pressed her to the ground, saurian eyes scanning the crowd for  any

sign of what was to come. The alien chanting was at its peak, screeching  over

the channel, making it almost impossible to hear anything else.

Then another desperate image from Jaina, so clear it formed words in  her

mind: Tahiri, no!

The world turned white and her connection to Jaina instantly went dead.

The ice barge slowed to a halt in the lee  of  a  giant  snow  dune.  The

grating whine of its repulsors ebbed as it settled onto its wide belly.  Fel's

hands worked the controls with practiced ease, guiding the craft  to  a  near-

perfect landing.

When everything was still, the burly human glanced at Luke as  though  to

ask, Are you sure you know what you're doing?

When Luke nodded his reassurance,  Fel  killed  the  shields.  The  barge

instantly shuddered as the howling, icy wind swept over it.

"We'll need survival suits," Syal said.

Fel shook his head. "We won't be out there long enough to need them. This

should be over in a minute or two." Danni glowered at the ten circular  shapes

swooping around the landed barge. Her eyes were dark with fatigue. "Here comes

one now," she said, pointing at a snow-flier arcing in to land near the barge.

"And another," Stalgis said, also pointing.

Saba watched as the strange-looking craft came  down  on  one  edge.  Its

engines burned brightly in infrared, outshining the  cold  sun.  Four  spindly

supports emerged to support the vertical disk in the snow. When it was stable,

a circular panel on its side irised open and a black-clad female pilot stepped

out, her uniform unadorned by rank or other identifying  markers.  The  figure

was tall and slender, just like every other Chiss Saba had  ever  encountered.

Saba watched as the woman strode confidently  to  the  curving  flank  of  the

barge, then jumped lightly up onto it.

A second pilot joined her, holding one of the two-handed rifles Saba  had

seen in the immersion room. The Chiss called them charrics, she  had  learned.

The first pilot removed her helmet, revealing craggy, weathered features under

close-cropped hair. The blue skin of her  face  looked  colder  than  the  ice

around her.

"Ganet," Fel said darkly. "I should  have  known."  "Who  is  she?  "Luke

asked.

"She commands a phalanx for a rival syndic, one who  doesn't  approve  of

the changes I'm encouraging. And I know she wouldn't approve of you,  either."

Master Luke dismissed the implied warning with a smile. "Then maybe it's  time

we meet her," he said. "See if we can't change her mind about us." Fel  didn't

smile back in response. He just slipped his hand into a  pair  of  thin  black

gloves as he turned to his wife. "Everything ready?" Syal nodded and pressed a

button on the ice barge's  controls.  A  display  to  one  side  of  the  main

instrumental panel began to count down.

Two minutes... one minute fifty-nine seconds...  one  minute  fifty-eight

seconds...

The main door lifted up and out, and warm air in the cabin was  instantly

sucked outside. An icy chill wrapped itself  around  Saba,  who  clenched  her

teeth, bracing herself for the freezing temperatures.  As  with  most  saurian

species, the cold would slow her down, so she would  have  to  draw  upon  the

Force to counter this—which she did, igniting a ball of warmth  in  her  chest

that spread outward through her  limbs.  Only  her  extremities  retained  any

sensation of the cold, and she kept them tucked in close, curling her  fingers

into fists and tucking her tail near her legs.

Soontir Fel exited the barge first, exuding  a  calm  self-assurance.  He

surveyed the scene before him, then stepped over the threshold to make way for

the others. Master Luke went next, followed by Saba, Mara, and Stalgis.  Danni

and Syal stayed inside.

One minute forty-five seconds...

Fel stopped in front of the female pilot, looking her up  and  down  with

quiet disapproval. Finally he shook his head. "You don't  seem  the  type  for

open rebellion, Ganet." "I prefer the term  excision,  myself,"  she  answered

calmly.

"Whatever it takes to justify your actions, is that  it?"  Another  pilot

stepped up behind the craggy woman and waited there with charric at the ready.

Two more snow-fliers landed nearby.

"I'm not here to  banter  with  you,  Fel,"  Ganet  said.  "I  want  your

cooperation. And I will get it, too, because  we  have  your  daughter."  Saba

detected a slight stiffening to Fel's posture, but  his  expression  and  tone

remained firm and steady. "Who exactly are 'we,' Ganet?" "It's not important,"

she said as she raised her weapon and pointed  it  at  his  chest.  "All  that

matters is that we have her,  yes?"  "At  least  tell  me  why."  Fel  stepped

forward, his barrel chest defying the nozzle of her weapon. "I have given  the

Chiss my all since I joined you; surely I have the—" "You joined Thrawn,  Fel!

That's not the same as joining the Chiss.  We  have  ways  and  traditions  he

turned his luck on, and by joining him you proved that you don't respect them,

either." "Isn't one of those traditions not to fire upon an enemy until he has

fired upon you first?" Ganet smiled calmly. "But you  aren't  my  enemy,  Fel.

Don't mistake me on that. You are merely an inconvenience that I will soon  be

rid of." One minute...

"And what about us?" Master Luke asked.

Ganet took a step to her right, out of Fel's reach, turning her attention

to the others. "You were invited here on a pretext the CEDF does not  credit,"

she said. "You may have fooled the Houses, but your fables don't  impress  us.

Zonama Sekot is a smokescreen for something more sinister. We just don't  know

what it is yet." "Then you intend to dispose of us, too." Ganet  laughed.  "It

was always our intention to dispose of you, Jedi! We never intended to let you

leave here." "Then the deadline—" Stalgis started.

"Was a ruse to give us an opportunity to move against  you,  of  course."

"So we're all just pawns in Chief Navigator Aabe's little  power  game?"  Luke

shook his head. "What did you promise him?  Soontir's  position  once  it  was

available?" Thirty seconds...

"He delivered us the means to  fix  a  difficult  situation,"  she  said,

nodding. "He will be suitably rewarded when the time comes,  yes."  "The  same

way you're 'rewarding' Soontir right now?" Mara said. "Don't you people have a

conscience?" "We are aware of the concept," Ganet said, raising  the  charric,

"but it has no place in war. And this is war, Mara Jade. Have no doubts  about

that whatsoever. In the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong, there can be  no  gray

areas: there are only allies and enemies. The Chiss do not need allies, so I'm

afraid that leaves only the other option." She motioned the  other  snow-flier

pilot to come forward as two more stepped up onto the ice barge. "Please  move

away from the door and turn around—all of you." Ten seconds...

"That includes your wife, Fel." Fel motioned for Syal and Danni  to  join

them, which they quickly did.

"I promise you a clean death, Fel," Ganet said. "There is no dishonor  in

accepting your fate." Three seconds...

"For the Chiss!" "Indeed," Ganet said, mistaking Fel's battle cry  for  a

qualifying statement. "For the—" Now! Luke commanded.

Saba, Danni, and Mara sprang immediately into action—along  with  Soontir

Fel—a split second before all the ice barge's cannons simultaneously fired.

The  intended  distraction  worked.  Ganet  and  her  ac-complices   were

momentarily thrown by the explosions — and a moment was all the Jedi needed.

Fel stepped nimbly to his left. Ganet instinctively followed, the charric

in her hand ready to fire. With a hiss,  Luke's  lightsaber  flared  to  life,

slicing smoothly up to sever the barrel of Ganet's weapon. Fel snap-kicked her

legs from beneath her as Luke  turned  upon  the  second  pilot,  effortlessly

knocking him to the ground with a Force push.

"You heard me?" Luke called to  Fel.  "I  didn't  know  you  were  Force-

sensitive." "I'm not," Fel responded. "But I can count!" Mara spun around as a

bolt of energy flashed by Luke's head, and saw  the  other  two  pilots  adopt

sharpshooter stances on the edge of the barge. She deflected  the  first  shot

with her lightsaber, exploding a snow dune a hundred meters away into  a  puff

of white. The second shot missed altogether. Saba reached out  with  a  mental

hand and wrenched the pilot's rifle away from him. The remaining pilot  turned

his charric on her and fired. The shot was a good one and would have connected

with Saba's head had she not deflected it back at him with her lightsaber.  He

fell backward off the barge and into the snow.

A screaming sound heralded an attack from  above.  Blaster  bolts  scored

thick black lines across the top of the barge,  barely  missing  Saba  as  the

snow-flier swept by and swung around for another pass. Two of the  other  five

were already lining up to do the same.

"Get those shields back on!" Stalgis yelled, picking  up  a  charric  and

taking a potshot at the retreating flier. The shot  pinged  from  the  craft's

side but didn't slow it even slightly.

"Come on, Saba," Mara said, pointing at two of the landed fliers.  "While

we have the chance!" Saba understood instantly what she meant. Even  with  its

shield up, the ice barge would be vulnerable to the remaining six snow-fliers.

If they were going to reach the spaceport, then they were  going  to  have  to

take a more offensive role in this fight.

Flexing the muscles in her powerful legs, Saba ran for the  edge  of  the

barge and threw herself forward into the snow.

Not a moment too soon. Her tail caught the  edge  of  the  shield  as  it

snapped into life. Flexing it to get rid of the tingling, stinging  sensation,

she ran up the snow dune for the nearest of the fliers. Mara took the  one  to

their right, using the Force to assist her movement through  the  thick  snow.

The fliers were larger than they looked in the air—at least twice as  tall  as

Saba and as thick across as three of her body lengths. Like  a  glossy,  black

wheel stuck in the snow, it towered over her  as  she  reached  its  base  and

hauled herself up the egress ladder.

The controls were different from any she'd  seen  before  but,  like  the

charrics, operated on principles she understood. The craft  didn't  possess  a

sophisticated security system, and responded to the touch of her cold fingers.

Wrapping her tail around her hips, she fired up the engines.

The flier's legs retracted with a faint whir as it lifted  smoothly  from

the ground; then, with the cockpit  vibrating  to  the  tune  of  the  craft's

powerful repulsors, it swung up into the sky, forcing Saba back into the seat,

grunting in discomfort as her tail was momentarily squashed.

The flier's weapon system was uncluttered  and  simple  to  operate.  She

armed the blaster cannon and targeted one of the six enemy snow-fliers  coming

around to respond to the new threat. Her first shot went  wide.  She  adjusted

her trim, rapidly familiarizing herself with the snow-flier's  responses.  Her

second shot  was  closer  to  the  mark,  but  she  still  had  to  make  some

adjustments. She fought to ignore the giddying rolls of  the  horizon  as  the

flier she was following banked sharply in an attempt  to  throw  her  off  its

tail. It had been a long time since her last dogfight around Barab I, but  she

was pleased to find that her skills hadn't atrophied.

A low growl emerged from her throat  as  the  flier  edged  up  into  her

crosshairs. She fired.

Sparks flew in a comet  tail:  her  shot  had  blown  her  target's  port

stabilizer. It wobbled in an ungainly fashion across  the  sky  as  the  pilot

fought to bring it down in a controlled ditch. Saba didn't stick around to see

if it made it or not; she was too busy bringing her own flier around in search

of another target.

Mara had downed one flier,  too,  but  that  did  nothing  to  deter  the

remaining four. Regrouping in a tight square formation, they  abandoned  their

attack of the ice barge — now firing its own cannon through its shields at the

enemy  fliers.  Saba  and  Mara  were  disadvantaged  by  their  inability  to

communicate with each other, but the Force more  than  compensated  for  that.

Subtle instructions from Mara  nudged  Saba  in  new  directions,  toward  new

targets. She followed them  without  question,  even  when  they  appeared  to

conflict with what her own instincts were telling her.

When the Force told her to take her flier in a barrel roll right  through

the heart of the Chiss's diamond-shaped formation, she did just that, breaking

them up and scattering them in four different directions. Mara picked one  off

as she swept by in Saba's wake, reducing the odds to a more comfortable three-

to-two.

On your tail, Saba!

Saba twisted in her seat to see what  was  behind  her,  but  immediately

regretted her impulsive reaction. The sudden movement in the  restricted  seat

made her tail cramp.  A  shot  from  behind  sizzled  horribly  close  to  her

starboard cockpit shell. Forcing  herself  to  ignore  the  dis-coirfort,  she

jerked the flight stick down hard, then up again, rolling  the  flier  up  and

over in a loop that brought her behind the flier that had been chasing her. It

pitched forward in an attempt to lose her, but wasn't quick enough to avoid  a

volley of blasterfire that sheared off its cannon and scored  a  hole  in  its

canopy. Wind snatched at the damage, twisting it off course  and  plunging  it

into a snowbank in a bright explosion that scattered debris far out  from  the

impact site.

Mara performed a spectacular maneuver that knocked another flier  out  of

the sky and left her on a head-to-head  trajectory  with  the  sole  remaining

flier. The Chiss pilot didn't  deviate  from  his  course  in  the  slightest,

however, as the two fliers sped  toward  one  another.  Saba  felt  distinctly

uneasy as she watched, knowing that Mara would never back  down  from  such  a

challenge. Opening herself completely to the Force, she closed  her  eyes  and

fired three rapid cannon bursts. When she opened her  eyes  again,  the  Chiss

flier was spiraling toward the ground with damage to its maneuvering flaps.

They performed a quick circuit of the grounded ice barge before  landing.

Master Skywalker and the others had rounded up Ina'ganet'nuruodo and the other

three pilots and placed them in binders. The four were on their knees  on  the

flank of the barge, watching bitterly as Syal killed the  barge's  shield  and

Saba and Mara landed nearby.

Saba's tail whipped gratefully behind her as she climbed aboard the barge

and rejoined her friends. After the heat of battle, the air felt  even  colder

than before.

"Nice flying," Luke said, addressing the  compliment  to  both  Mara  and

Saba.

Coming from such an accomplished pilot as the Jedi Master  himself,  Saba

couldn't help but feel pleased. "Thank you," she said, feeling  herself  flush

dark green beneath her scales.

"The jammer is in Ganet's flier." Luke nodded at one of the fliers  still

parked nearby. "We didn't deactivate it, so they haven't been able to call for

help." "But we could now, right?" Mara asked.

All eyes turned to Fel, who knew best  of  all  how  the  local  security

forces would react to the development. "I think we should make our way to  the

spaceport, as originally planned," he said  after  a  moment's  consideration.

"While we're out here, there's still an opportunity to dispose of us and erase

the evidence. I think it best we present them with a fait accompli  by  coming

back alive." He shot a dark glance to Ganet, glowering  on  her  knees  before

him. "Showing the Chiss the worst they can do usually brings out the  best  in

them. This is probably just what we need to demonstrate the  futility  of  our

inaction while the rest of the galaxy is at war. There's no  point  pretending

we're strong while our own command structure falls  apart  around  our  ears."

Syal came to stand next to her husband. "I don't want you to go to  war,"  she

said, "but I'd rather that than seeing you betrayed by our  own  people."  Fel

put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. He said nothing, but his  eyes

betrayed the affection he obviously held for her.

"We should gather the other pilots from the downed  fliers,"  Luke  said.

"We can't leave them out here to die in the cold." "Why  not?"  Stalgis  said,

glaring at Ganet. "They seemed to have no  qualms  about  killing  us."  Ganet

glared back at him without apology.

"But we're not them," the Jedi Master pointed out soberly. "Saba, can you

sense any of them out there?" A quick Force reading of  the  wasteland  around

them located the remaining pilots with ease. "Four of them are alive; three of

those are injured. This one will guide  you  to  them."  Fel  urged  the  four

captives to their feet. "Inside," he said. "And  don't  try  anything,  Ganet,

because believe me when I say that I won't display the  same  compassion  that

the Jedi have." The woman turned her red eyes upon him malevolently,  but  she

did as she was told without argument.

"And what about Wyn?" Syal asked. "What  do  we  do  about  her?"  "Don't

worry," Luke said. "If I know Jacen, that's already being dealt with." Despair

was a feeling Jaina had never succumbed to — not entirely—but frustration  was

a completely different story. She had tried twice to distract Salkeli, but the

Rodian was watching her far too closely. With the blaster trained  on  Malinza

and the others, there was no way she could risk an open attack.

Then she felt a touch through  the  Force  that  was  at  the  same  time

familiar and strikingly unfamiliar.

Tahiri was nearby and coming closer.

Unnerved though she was by the thought of touching minds with  the  young

Jedi, Jaina made her presence as strong in the Force as she could.  If  Tahiri

was homing in on her and arrived in time...

Unaware of the subtle  life  energies  flowing  around  him,  Harris  had

produced Jaina's lightsaber from  the  folds  of  his  robe  and  triumphantly

activated the shining blade.

"There remains only one thing to do to make  the  story  watertight,"  he

said. "If the Jedi really are to be the enemy, our hero needs  some  realistic

wounds. Don't you think?" Salkeli grinned as Harris  approached  Malinza.  The

girl backed away in horror. Vyram pushed  himself  between  the  Deputy  Prime

Minister and the girl. Harris, however, wasn't fazed in the slightest.

"Either one of you will do," he said, raising the violet blade  over  his

head, ready to strike. "I really don't mind which one gets  it  first."  Jaina

couldn't wait any longer. If she was going to act, then she needed  to  do  it

now.

A swift outward movement of her arms got rid  of  the  binders,  and  one

solid Force push knocked the lightsaber out of Harris's hands. She duck-rolled

as Salkeli brought his blaster to bear on her, his eyes widening  in  surprise

at the abrupt turn of events. She kicked the Rodian's legs from  beneath  him.

Harris wasted no time getting his own blaster out, but Jaina was on  her  feet

in time to deflect his first two shots, directing  them  harmlessly  into  the

wall. Another two bolts hissed by, exploding loudly somewhere behind her. Then

with three quick steps, she lunged at the Deputy Prime Minister, clubbing  him

with the handgrip of her lightsaber. He collapsed back  against  the  wall,  a

look of startled annoyance frozen on his face as he slumped to the floor.

Confident that there was no longer any threat from Harris, she turned her

attention back to Salkeli. Malinza, however, had already taken  care  of  him.

The girl had him pinned to the ground with one arm twisted up behind his back.

Jaina nodded, impressed. "Well done," she said.  Then,  holding  out  her

lightsaber, she added, "Here, give me your hands." She cut  the  binders  from

both Malinza and Vyram with two deft flicks of her blade.

"You'll pay for this!" Salkeli snarled from the floor.  "Your  time  will

come soon enough, Jedi  filth!"  "Want  me  to  shut  him  up?"  Vyram  asked,

collecting Harris's blaster.

"Not yet," Jaina said, deactivating her lightsaber. "We  might  yet  need

his help." Then, with dismay, she saw the ruin of the remote detonator. One of

the stray blaster bolts had struck it square in the  top  casing.  The  Rodian

followed her stare to the smoking, half-melted box, and burst into  a  fit  of

mocking laughter.

Malinza looked, too. "What do we do now?" Jaina thought frantically. "How

much longer did we have on the timer?" Vyram shook his head. "I have no idea."

"You've lost, Jedi!" Salkeli cackled.

"Not yet, we haven't," she said, grabbing him under the  chin.  "Tell  me

where the bomb is, and tell me  now."  The  Rodian  stared  at  the  crackling

lightsaber close to his face. "Not that you can do anything to  stop  it  now,

anyway, but it's under  the  premium  stalls,  tucked  safely  away  behind  a

ferrocrete support." "But it still doesn't help us,"  Malinza  said,  "because

we're trapped in here!" The sound of pounding erupted from the far side of the

locked door.

Jaina reached out through the Force and felt Tahiri trying to attract her

attention, but the door was too thick to shout through, and two  Jedi  weren't

enough to form a Force-meld.

Frustration returned, but only for an instant. Looking over  to  Salkeli,

she suddenly remembered... She hurried across the room to where the Rodian lay

pinned by Malinza. A quick search of his pockets and she soon found  what  she

was looking for: her comlink.

"Tahiri, can you hear me?" A second's pause before: "Jaina?  We're  right

here outside the door!" "I know. Can you get it open, though?" There was  some

hesitation. "The code sequence might take a minute or two to get through,  but

yes, we should be able to get you out."  "We  don't  have  a  minute  or  two,

Tahiri. Listen: there's a bomb. You have to get to it and defuse  it."  "Where

is it?" Jaina repeated the information that Salkeli had given her.

"How long do we have?" "I'm not sure, but I'm guessing  not  much.  There

was a ten-minute timer, and it's already been  ticking  away  for  some  time.

You'd better get going while I find out how  to  disarm  it."  "Okay.  Goure's

going to stay here and try to get the door  open."  "Who's—?"  "He's  the  Ryn

who's been helping us. You can trust him." Jaina nodded.  "Don't  worry  about

us. We're probably safer in here than you are. Just  get  going!"  She  sensed

Tahiri hurrying away up the corridor, calling on the  Force  to  maximize  her

speed. She could feel the girl's exhaustion, too, and wished  she  could  send

some of her strength to help. But there  was  little  she  could  do  in  that

regard. She had to direct her efforts elsewhere.

Jaina turned away from the door and squatted down next to  the  squirming

Salkeli, still futilely trying to break free.

"I thought Rodians always had an escape plan," she said. The Rodian  spat

at her and glared. She didn't let it bother her. "How do I  disarm  the  bomb,

Salkeli?" "How should I know?" he growled. "And what makes you think I'd  tell

you even if I did? I've already told you too much." Jaina  sighed.  "I'll  try

again," she said, this time with some Force persuasion behind it.  "How  do  I

disarm the bomb?" His eyes glazed over slightly  as  he  said,  "It  can't  be

deactivated now." That threw her for a moment. "There has to be  a  way!"  She

pushed even harder with the Force. She didn't believe for a  moment  that  the

Rodian wouldn't have had at least some knowledge of Harris's bomb.  "Now  tell

me what it is, Salkeli. How is the bomb disarmed?" "The remote detonator,"  he

answered without resistance. Then, glancing over to the ruined box, he  smiled

nastily. "But like I said, there's no way to  disarm  it  now."  Jaina  cursed

under her breath. It was unlikely the Rodian had the will to resist the  Force

persuasion, so he was probably telling the truth—or the truth as  he  saw  it,

anyway. And even if the Deputy Prime Minister  did  know  of  another  way  to

deactivate the bomb, it was unlikely they'd be able to rouse him  in  time  to

get that information.

"I'm almost there," Tahiri said over the  comlink,  her  voice  crackling

through dozens of meters  of  durasteel  and  ferrocrete.  "Do  you  have  the

information?" Jaina shook her head, beginning to  feel  nauseous.  "Tahiri,  I

don't think it can be disarmed." "What?" "Harris rigged it so that it can't be

switched off without the remote detonator—and that's been  destroyed!"  "There

has to be a way, Jaina." "There isn't. I've seen devices  like  these  before.

We're lucky it didn't automatically go off early." "Then what are going to do?

" "We try to warn Mom and Dad, and get them to alert Cundertol. If we're quick

enough, they might be able to clear the stand and get everyone  away  before—"

"How much time do we have?" "I still don't know, Tahiri. But not much, so  get

out of there as quickly as possible, okay?" She tried to raise her  mother  on

the comlink, but its signal was too weak. Instead, she reached out through the

Force. Leia Organa Solo was one mind among thousands, but her mental signature

was instantly recognizable. Jaina felt secondhand the hypnotic  power  of  the

consecration ceremony gathering force throughout the stadium,  and  fought  to

punch through it.

Mom! You have to get out of there. There's a bomb!

It was difficult to convey more than sense impressions through the Force,

but she tried her best, and did receive a faint hint of  a  response  for  her

efforts. She couldn't tell, though, if her mother understood.

"I've found it," Tahiri said. "I have the bomb right here in front of me.

" Jaina's anxiety doubled. "What are you still doing in there, Tahiri? I  told

you to get out!" "I'm going to try to disarm it." "Tahiri, do as I  tell  you!

Just get out of there and try to warn the others!" "Jaina, we don't  know  how

much time we have. What if they can't clear everyone out in time?"  Jaina  bit

back an angry response. "You don't know what you're doing, though!" "Then I'll

just have to improvise, won't I?" came the reply.

Jaina reached out with all her strength  and  tried  to  Force-meld  with

Tahiri. The link was faint, but she did receive a  brief  clear  view  through

Tahiri's eyes. The bomb in front of her was not equipped for manual disarming,

but it did have a timer. In bold blue digits, Jaina could see they had seventy

seconds left.

Sixty-nine...

Then something cold and dark pushed her away and the link ebbed.

Mom! Can you hear me? Jaina called, fighting a mounting desperation.  Get

everyone out of there—fast!

The locker door hissed open and the Ryn called Goure rushed in, his  tail

straight out behind him. "What's going on?"  Jaina  checked  her  chronometer.

They had only thirty seconds left.

"Get that door shut!" she told him sharply. "That bomb's about to go off!

" The meld with Tahiri returned, faintly.

"I'm making progress," the girl said over  the  comlink.  "I've  got  the

cover off and I think I can-Sparks flashed and Jaina received the  sharp  tang

of burning wires through the Force. At the same  time  she  felt  the  equally

sharp stab of hopelessness as Tahiri realized she didn't have a clue  what  to

do next.

"Tahiri, you've got to get out of there!" "No, there has to  be  a  way!"

"There isn't! Now, move!" "I can do it, Jaina. I have to!" "Why?  So  you  can

die like Anakin?" The backlash of pain surprised Jaina and made her  instantly

regret her words. "Tahiri, I'm—" "You don't trust me,  do  you,  Jaina?"  "You

don't have to prove anything to me, Tahiri. Please, just—" "I  can  do  it!  I

know I can." "Can we argue about this later, Tahiri?" But again something dark

and powerful broke the meld between them, its presence casting a  black  shape

in Jaina's mind.

"Mon-mawl rrish hu camasami!" The words cut  into  Jaina  like  a  jagged

blade. "Tahiri!" "No!" Tahiri cried, her desperation  shattering  the  fragile

darkness. "Leave me alone!" Her will  was  not  as  strong  as  the  darkness,

though, and the broken pieces of the shadow reassembled, twice as powerful  as

it had been before.

"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" The voice over  the  comlink  didn't  sound  like

Tahiri's, but Jaina recognized the words. She'd heard it on the  lips  of  her

enemies many times in the past. It was a Yuuzhan Vong battle cry.

"Riina?" Jaina asked.

The voice changed to Basic with uncanny ease. "Anakin killed  me—and  now

you want me dead, too! I won't let that happen!  Krel  nag  sh'n  rrush  fek!"

"Wait, Riina!" It was too late: time had run out. The bomb  went  off  with  a

muffled concussion that Jaina felt rather than heard. The floor bucked beneath

her, throwing everyone to the ground. The lights went out; someone screamed.

Jaina collected herself when  the  shaking  died  down.  She  frantically

reached out into the darkness for Tahiri's mind. No matter how much she tried,

though, she couldn't find it anywhere.

Tahiri was gone.

Wyn's fear was strong in Jacen's mind as he tracked  her  and  her  Chiss

escort along the ice tunnels far below Csilla's frozen surface. He sensed that

she was frightened, but had nothing concrete on which  to  pin  her  concerns.

Although she clearly didn't like  Chief  Navigator  Aabe,  as  yet  he'd  done

nothing overt to threaten her.

Let's just hope it stays that way, he thought.

"I don't understand," Irolia hissed from  behind  him.  "Why  would  Aabe

kidnap Assistant Syndic Fel's daughter?" "I have no idea, Commander. All I  do

know is that he has taken her, and that we have to stop him  before  any  harm

comes to her." "But how can you know this?" she asked. "This Force of yours is

something we don't have. How do I know you're telling me the truth? For all I—

" He motioned her to silence. They had reached an intersection, and his breath

puffed into thick, frosty clouds as he peered around  the  corner.  He  didn't

have time to justify his actions to Irolia, or try  to  convince  her  of  the

existence of the Force. Wyn was close; he could feel her.

The way ahead held a faint glimmer of light: the  bubble  of  warmth  and

heat containing Aabe, the two guards, and Soontir Fel's youngest daughter  was

moving rapidly away from them.

"They're heading for the iceway terminus," Irolia said, looking past him.

"Which is?"  "An  underground  transport  station.  There  are  excavated

tunnels through the bedrock, far below the ice. Carriages travel through them.

" Jacen quickly considered their options. "Then we'll just have to  stop  them

before they reach it." "Agreed—because if they manage to get onto a  carriage,

then they could be on the other side of the planet within an hour." He  turned

to look at her. The Chiss  commander  was  staring  ahead  with  a  determined

expression, her blue skin and red  eyes  contrasting  powerfully  in  the  icy

gloom. All suggestion of the skepticism  she'd  voiced  just  moments  earlier

appeared to have left her. Even if she wasn't convinced about his motives,  at

least she was determined to help him get Wyn back in one piece.

He felt vaguely sorry for her. She'd been put in charge  of  baby-sitting

the visitors from the Galactic Alliance through Chiss space and on Csilla.  It

wasn't her fault that she'd been betrayed by a senior  officer,  whose  orders

she hadn't even thought to question. He could understand her  wanting  to  fix

the situation before word of her mistake spread.

The light flickered and died at the end of the tunnel. At some point,  he

knew, he was going to have to try to get closer. He could think of  no  actual

way to hide along the dark and icy corridor so that Aabe and the other  guards

wouldn't see them, but he couldn't afford to hold back, either. The longer  he

left it, the farther away Wyn became.

"Come on, Commander. We're going to have to run to catch them." "Are  you

sure you'll be able to? Running in these temperatures  can  be  more  draining

than people realize." "You just worry about keeping up." He let the Force flow

through him, guiding his footfalls and strengthening the muscles in his  legs.

His fatigue washed away, along with his concerns for Wyn and  the  others.  He

concentrated solely on running: a single, pure  action  that  allowed  him  to

focus his thoughts. What he would do when he caught up with  Aabe,  he  didn't

rightly know. Nor did it matter. Nothing did. He existed simply to cross  this

short stretch of ice that separated Wyn from himself, and  while  he  remained

focused on that solitary task, he was able to do it with an athletic ease.

Irolia matched his pace beside him, but with considerably more effort. By

the time they reached the junction where the lit section had disappeared,  her

breathing was coming in long, deep gulps. She leaned against the nearest  wall

as Jacen peered around another corner. They seemed to be a lot  closer  now—so

close, in fact, that Aabe was clearly distinguishable  within  the  bubble  of

light ahead by virtue of the gleam off his scalp.

"Are you okay to continue?" he whispered to Irolia.

She nodded. "I am in perfect physical condition," she said, wiping  sweat

from her forehead. "I could run the same distance three times over  and  still

fight at the end of it." "That's good to hear," Jacen  said,  "because  that's

probably what you're going to have to do." He glanced around  the  icy  corner

again. "How far do you figure before they reach those carriages?"  "There  are

only two more junctions between here and the iceway terminus." "Then  I  guess

we'd better get moving. Are you sure you're  ready?"  "You  just  worry  about

keeping up," she said.

He smiled at the commander's quip, then continued with  his  pursuit.  He

was more cautious this time, because they were well  within  sight  of  Aabe's

party. He didn't know how well sound carried through the  fields  keeping  the

heat in, but he couldn't  afford  to  assume  that  their  approach  would  be

covered. He didn't even know if he'd be able  to  penetrate  the  field  walls

around the bubble. Another two corners would give him and Irolia time to catch

up as Aabe and Wyn reached the terminus, when they would be distracted and out

of the fields.

As Jacen drew closer, a faint hissing broke the silence. The  sound  came

from the field walls as they swept over the icy surfaces  around  the  bubble.

Beneath the sound was a hint of voices, too low for him to catch anything more

than broken fragments. From the handful of words he  was  able  to  make  out,

though, he knew that Wyn was starting to question  Aabe's  intentions,  asking

why her father was having her transported via  the  iceways  rather  than  the

barge. Aabe muttered something that  went  unheard,  as  did  Wyn's  response—

although there was no mistaking the misgivings in the girl's tone.

They rounded one corner, then the second; all that lay between  them  and

the iceway terminus now was a straight stretch of  tunnel.  Jacen  and  Irolia

kept pace with the bubble, lurking just beyond the  wash  of  light  it  cast.

Jacen undipped his lightsaber from his belt  and  held  it  ready,  his  thumb

resting on the activation stud.

The bubble dissolved as Aabe, the guards, and Wyn left the tunnel. Beyond

them was the terminus—a much smaller space than Jacen had imagined.  Long  and

narrow, it had a series of sliding panels set into the far wall,  which  Jacen

presumed to be air locks leading to the carriages.

Jacen and Irolia stopped at the end of the tunnel,  watching  quietly  as

Aabe and the others crossed the narrow room to one of the sliding doors.  Only

when one of these doors grated open did Wyn give in to  the  misgivings  Jacen

had heard in her voice.

"I'd like to talk to my father," she said,  pulling  away  from  the  ex-

Imperial and his Chiss sidekicks. "I want to  know  where  he's  sending  me."

"It's a little late to ask that, don't you think?" Aabe's skull  gleamed.  His

mouth, overshadowed by his large nose, curled into a menacing snarl.

She shook her head uneasily. "This isn't right," she said, taking another

step back. "You're lying to me. My father wouldn't ask me  to  be  taken  down

here!?

Aabe rounded on her in order to cut off her route to the exit. "And  what

possible reason would I have to lie to you, child? I am your father's  trusted

servant. You know that.  Why  do  you  dishonor  me  with  such  accusations?"

"Trusted servant?" she shot  back,  looking  frightened  but  determined.  "My

father says he never even heard of you  until  you  turned  up  on  the  Chiss

border, looking for asylum. He thinks  you're  a  deserter!"  Jacen  could  no

longer  see  Aabe's  face,  but  his  posture  noticeably   stiffened.   "Your

accusations grow with your hysteria, child," he said frostily. "You should  be

mindful of the things you say." "Do you deny it?" she continued, regardless of

the obvious danger she was in.

"It is irrelevant," he replied, unclipping  the  holster  at  his  waist.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not, and I'll hear no more  said

about your father. His time is over. The CEDF has better  things  to  do  than

pander to neighbors who can't mind their own affairs. The sooner  he  and  you

are out of the way, the better it will be for all concerned." Wyn backed  away

a few more steps, straight into the arms of one of the guards. Aabe  drew  his

blaster and approached her.

Jacen had heard enough. Before, it might have  just  been  possible  that

Aabe was following orders, but now there was no mistaking his intentions.

"I really think it's in your best interest to lower that weapon  and  let

the girl go, Chief Navigator," Jacen said, activating  his  lightsaber  as  he

stepped out from the shadowed corridor.

Aabe spun around, redirecting his blaster's aim at  Jacen.  Then,  seeing

Irolia with him, his face crumpled into a frown. "What is the meaning of this?

I demand an explanation!" " Funny, but I was about to  say  exactly  the  same

thing," the commander said, drawing her own blaster.

"I need explain nothing to  you,  Commander,"  Aabe  sneered.  "I'm  your

superior officer. Remember? And I am ordering you to turn around and return to

your normal duties." "As an officer  of  the  Expansionary  Defense  Force,  I

believe it is my duty to ensure the safety and security of  the  Chiss  realm.

That directive, as you are well aware, supersedes all others. It  is  my  firm

belief that I am following  that  directive  right  now."  Irolia  raised  her

blister and sighted Aabe along the barrel. "So, if you wouldn't mind  dropping

your weapon, sir..." "You fool!" Jacen felt the  Force  rush  through  him  an

instant before Aabe fired. His  instincts  moved  him  forward,  swinging  his

lightsaber up and across to intersect the bolt before it could hit  Irolia.  A

split second later she, too, fired. Jacen didn't hesitate: his lightsaber came

down again, deflecting that bolt also.

"What are you doing?" Irolia snapped.

Jacen  didn't  have  time  to  explain  to  the  commander  that  it  was

unnecessary for anyone to die; he was too busy advancing on Aabe as the  chief

navigator  slowly  retreated.  The  guards  stood  behind  him,  frozen   with

indecision.

"You cowards!" Aabe yelled back at them. "He's only a boy! Take him!" But

the guards took another step away from him,  making  it  clear  to  Jacen  and

Irolia that Aabe was on his own in this. When the commander indicated for them

to lower their weapons, they did so without hesitation,  laying  them  on  the

floor at their feet. Whether they had been part of the  conspiracy  or  simply

following orders was something that would have to be determined later.

Realizing his situation, Aabe grabbed Wyn and shoved her forcibly between

himself and Jacen; then he turned to run for the open  iceway  carriage  door,

his only chance at obtaining freedom. Jacen took three long strides  to  bring

himself within reach of the fleeing man, his  lightsaber  raised,  tensed  and

ready to strike.

A single exertion of will, backed up by the Force, wrenched the  carriage

doors closed. Aabe crashed into them at full tilt, toppling back onto the  ice

at Jacen's feet, his blaster flying out of his stunned  grasp  and  clattering

across the floor. Wyn was quick to pick it up and point it at him.

"There's nowhere to run," Jacen said, the steady thrum of his  lightsaber

sounding in the cold air.

He felt Wyn watching in amazement as he stood over Aabe, willing the  man

to give up. Defiance lingered in Aabe's eyes, but then suddenly flickered  and

died. The man sagged back to the floor with a defeated sigh.

Jacen stepped back, lowering his lightsaber, glad  that  the  crisis  was

over—and that nobody had been hurt.

He activated his comlink, and it bleeped immediately. It was his uncle.

"Jacen? Is everything all right?" "It is now," he answered.

"And Wyn?" "She's fine. I'll fill you in on all the details later." "Well

done, Jacen. You've defused a potentially difficult situation." "Thanks, Uncle

Luke," he returned, deactivating his lightsaber  and  reattaching  it  to  his

belt. Irolia was already busy speaking into a wall communicator,  calling  for

backup. "How's everything there?" "Under  control.  We've  heard  from  Tekli;

someone made a halfhearted attempt to break through Jade  Shadow's  air  lock,

but they failed and haven't come back. Port security is already  looking  into

the incident. It looks like we've weathered the storm rather well,  don't  you

think?" As Jacen watched the guards hoist Aabe onto  his  feet,  he  found  he

could only nod in silent agreement. A failed attempt to put them  out  of  the

picture would almost certainly bring the Chiss more firmly behind them—as well

as Fel. The real leaders behind the attempt—assuming Aabe wasn't as high up as

they went—would no doubt lie low for a while, fearing  reprisals  from  either

Chiss loyal to the existing command structure, like Irolia,  or  the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances, which was bound to take an  attack  on  peaceful

diplomats poorly. It might also  mean  that  the  two-day  deadline  would  be

extended.

"How long do you think before you'll get back?" he asked his uncle.

"Probably within the hour," Luke said. "We'll resume our  search,  then."

Jacen nodded to himself again, glad to be able to put the incident behind them

and get back to work.

"And Jacen?" Luke said. "Don't assume that everything that happened  here

has been unimportant. The smallest action can have the  largest  consequences.

The good work we've done today may have far-reaching consequences—consequences

we can only guess at right now." "I know, Uncle Luke," Jacen said.  "I'll  see

you when you get back, okay?" "Take care, Jacen." "You, too."  He  closed  the

line and returned the comlink to his belt, reflecting upon the simple truth of

his uncle's words. He couldn't help but wonder at  what  the  consequences  of

this day would be. Perhaps saving Wyn would enable her to achieve her ambition

of seeing Coruscant. One day, when the war was over,  the  girl  could  easily

follow in her brother's footsteps and  leave  Chiss  space  in  favor  of  the

Galactic Alliance. He sensed strength and determination in her, as well  as  a

keen intellect. If she wanted to do something badly enough, he  had  no  doubt

that she would find away.

What will become of you, Wyn Fel? he wondered to himself. Only time would

tell, he supposed—and if he could give her nothing else, he would do his  best

to give her that, at least. The time to realize her  potential:  her  and  the

Chiss, as well as the galaxy itself.

He shrugged off the  train  of  thought,  forcing  himself  back  to  the

present. Wyn was standing to one side,  the  blaster  in  her  hand  trembling

slightly. She was staring at him with something approximating awe.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

She nodded once. "A little shaken, but I'll be okay." She  couldn't  seem

to take her eyes off him. "Thank  you  for  coming  when  you  did.  You  were

amazing!" He felt himself flush slightly, at the compliment  as  well  as  the

girl's obvious admiration for him that had prompted it. But he forced  himself

to ignore it. There were much more important things to concern  himself  with.

Bigger than Wyn or Aabe—bigger even than himself. The search for Zonama  Sekot

was of paramount importance. Everything else was just a distraction.

"All in a day's work," he told Wyn, with a smile that he hoped would hide

his discomfort at her adoration. "The life of a Jedi is  not  a  boring  one."

Mom? Mom!

In the aftermath of the explosion, Jaina's mind was filled  with  psychic

pain. She sent her mind out among the wounded and  dying,  searching  for  her

mother. She found her mother and father down in  the  thick  of  it,  fighting

their way through the panicked crowd, trying to get to where help  was  needed

the most.

Jaina sat up in the gloom of the room's emergency  lighting.  The  locker

was  filled  with  dust,  but  it  had  remained  intact—just  as  Harris  had

anticipated it would. Malinza was climbing to her feet, shaking her head grog-

gily. Vyram and Goure were clambering upright, too, both coughing violently as

the dust caught in their throats. Salkeli lay curled in  a  ball,  looking  up

with a grin on his face, triumphant that their best efforts to stop  the  bomb

had failed. Harris remained where Jaina had left him: out cold in the corner.

She collected the comlink from the  floor  where  she'd  dropped  it  and

quickly activated it.

"Mom?" She opened the locker door to reduce the interference.  "Mom,  can

you hear me?" It took a few moments before Leia answered. "I hear you, Jaina."

Relief rushed through her at the sound of her mother's  voice.  "Are  you  all

right?" "I'm okay. But, Mom—Tahiri!" "I know; I felt it, too." "Do  you  think

she's okay?" "I don't know, Jaina." "I'll never forgive myself if she's—" Leia

didn't let her finish. "You aren't to blame for  anything  that  has  happened

here, Jaina." Jaina knew that wasn't true. If she hadn't been so closed off to

the girl in the first place, if she'd tried to help her confront her  problems

earlier instead of...

She broke away from the guilt-ridden thought.

"How bad is it up there, Mom?" "It's utter chaos. The blast took out  the

Prime Minister's stalls. Security is trying to  clear  the  area  now."  Jaina

caught flashes from her mother: frightened faces, tangled wreckage, and blood—

lots of blood.

Before she could ask if there was anything she could do, Salkeli took the

opportunity to gloat. "You look a little concerned there,  Jedi,"  the  Rodian

said with a half smile, half sneer. "Not so sure of yourself now, are—"  Vyram

didn't ask this time; he just shut the Rodian up by stunning him with the butt

of his blaster. "What do we do now?" he asked, stepping up to Jaina.

"We go topside to help," she answered. "Besides,  security  has  to  know

about these two." "I'll go," Malinza said.

Jaina shook her head. "They might not believe you." "No," the girl  said,

"but they will listen." "And 1 can stay here and keep an eye on these two,  if

you like," Vyram said.

Jaina thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, and I'll  back

you up when I get there." "Wait a minute," Goure said. "Where are you  going?"

"To find Tahiri." "Then I'm coming, too," he said. The Ryn had a look  in  his

eye that Jaina recognized from her father—the kind  that  said  there  was  no

point arguing.

Jaina shrugged helplessly and let him follow her  out  as  they  retraced

Tahiri's steps through the damaged corridors, updating Leia as they went.  The

stadium's structure had held,  but  it  was  going  to  require  an  extensive

overhaul. The closer they got to the center of  the  blast,  the  more  damage

there was. Ceilings had come down, ferrocrete  had  cracked,  stanchions  were

twisted, and the air was full of dust.

"Through here, I think," she said, following the vague impressions  she'd

received from Tahiri's mind. Everything had looked so different then, with the

smooth, clean corridors. Now they were in ruins, open to the sky. The cries of

the wounded were very real from such close quarters, and the  smell  of  smoke

and dust was powerfully strong.

At the heart of the destruction, they  found  a  clear  space  about  two

meters across. The blast had destroyed everything around the area, but nothing

within it. And there at its center lay Tahiri, curled up like a  child  hiding

from a nightmare.

Jaina came to a halt at the  edge  of  the  unaffected  area,  her  heart

pounding sickeningly fast in her  chest.  She  tried  reaching  for  the  girl

through the Force, but she still couldn't find her.

"What happened here?" Goure asked.

"She must have put a Force bubble around herself," Jaina said. She looked

around, surveying the damage more closely. " Looks like it deflected the  bulk

of the blast away from above." She  reached  out  cautiously  with  her  hand,

feeling for the bubble, and was surprised to find nothing there. "It must have

closed when she passed out." Goure moved to the girl's  side  and  rolled  her

over. Tahiri turned without resistance and lay on her back with her eyes open.

"Tahiri?" The Ryn felt for a pulse in her throat when there was  no  response.

"She's alive." Jaina tried to reach her  through  the  Force  one  more  time.

Tahiri?

Nothing. Jaina had never felt anyone  so  empty  before.  The  girl  felt

hollow in the Force,  almost  —  She  stopped  the  thought,  not  wanting  to

introduce the idea into her mind. But it was too late.

Almost invisible, she thought. Like the Yuuzhan Vong!

Jaina's comlink beeped.

"Jaina?" Her mother's voice came again over the comlink.

She turned away from Tahiri and raised her comlink. "Yes,  Mom?"  "Rescue

teams have reached the epicenter of the blast."  Looking  up,  she  could  see

movement through the hole. "We're directly below. Are you  with  them?"  "Yes.

They've started pulling bodies out of the rubble." A sickening sensation swept

through her. If she'd only acted faster, not wasted  time  assuming  the  bomb

could be defused...

"How many?" she asked.

"Four so far. And—" Leia's hesitation told her there was worse to come.

"What is it, Mom?" "It's Prime  Minister  Cundertol.  He's  dead."  Jaina

looked down into Tahiri's empty, almost  accusing  eyes.  The  hollowness  she

exhibited was catching.

"Jama? Did you hear me?" "I heard you, Mom. I'm on my way up." Goure took

Tahiri into his arms and together they negotiated the rubble. As they  reached

the surface, Ma-linza's words about the Cosmic Balance came back to haunt her.

Good works lead to evil results. Jaina had been trying to do the right  thing,

but it had all gone so terribly wrong. Salkeli had betrayed her; Zel and Jjorg

were dead; Tahiri was unconscious; the Prime Minister had been murdered—all of

this, despite her best efforts.

It wasn't just her, either. Uncle Luke had liberated  the  Bakurans  from

the Empire only to see them turn their backs on the Galactic Alliance. The New

Republic had created the Bakuran Defense Fleet to protect the planet from  the

Ssi-ruuk, but half of it had been destroyed elsewhere in the  galaxy,  leaving

Bakura vulnerable again. Bakura had never been the aggressor, yet  bad  things

kept  happening  to  it.  No  wonder  its  people  were  eager  to  look   for

alternatives.

And what if the treaty with the P'w'eck did turn out  to  be  legitimate?

she asked herself. What then? What evil might that reap farther down the track

for the planet?

They clambered out into the daylight and saw the  small  knot  of  people

gathered around the Prime Minister's body, looking down in shock  and  horror.

The large man lay sprawled out on a repulsor gurney, the scorched  remains  of

his ceremonial robes torn down the center,  where  a  meditech  had  struggled

unsuccessfully to  revive  him.  Leia's  attention  was  fixed  on  the  Prime

Minister's body and the activities taking place around it, but she  looked  up

to acknowledge Jaina. She was pale beneath  sooty  smudges  that  covered  her

face. Her expression was one of abhorrence, and  her  eyes  were  filled  with

tears and pain.

Reports were garbled from below, but the sense of disaster  was  all  too

vivid for Jag's liking.  Relayed  from  commentators  and  unofficial  sources

through Selonia to him, there was a lot of room for misinformation. There  had

been some sort of explosion during the consecration  ceremony.  Something  had

muffled the blast, though,  according  to  commentators  on  the  ground,  and

thankfully the damage to the intended target wasn't as extensive as  it  could

have been.

Nevertheless, two Senators were dead, along with half a dozen guards  and

a couple of guests. Forty more had incurred wounds, with injuries ranging from

hearing loss to loss of limbs. And, of course, there was Cundertol himself.

"Ktah," he spat. The Chiss rarely expressed emotions  vocally,  but  they

did have words for it when the occasion arrived.  Assassination  was  an  ugly

tactic, no matter who employed it, and if this turned out to be  the  work  of

ter-rorists hoping to disrupt the consecration  ceremony,  he  was  sure  that

retaliation would be swift and brutal.

It hadn't been terrorists, some of the uglier rumors said, but the Deputy

Prime Minister himself...

Jaina's reappearance had brought some  comfort,  briefly.  She  had  only

confirmed everyone's worst fears: Blaine Harris had set the  bomb,  hoping  to

incriminate the Galactic Alliance and make a martyr out of Malinza  Thanas  as

well as getting Cundertol out of the way.

The implications of this stunned Jag,  and  he  shook  his  head  at  the

thought. With Cundertol dead and Harris likely to face any number of  charges,

Bakura had effectively been stripped of its highest levels  of  command...  On

the heels of that thought came an announcement from Pride of  Selonia:  "We've

just had word from Sentinel" Captain Mayn said. "General  Panib  has  declared

martial law. He's requested that, no matter what happens, we  don't  take  any

direct action. Word is filtering down the chains of  command  on  both  sides.

He's not exactly sure what the Keeramak will  make  of  this  yet,  but  we're

picking up activity on the Salis D'aar spaceport where the P'w'eck  ships  are

parked. My guess is they're not going to sit around and do nothing while bombs

go off around their precious leader." Jag agreed.  It  made  sense  that  they

would pull out and try again  later.  There  had  been  no  mention  that  the

ceremony had to be performed at a specific time, so presumably there'd  be  no

problem with picking up and carrying on from where they left off later.  "What

do you want us to do?" he asked Mayn. "Just back  off  a  little.  This  is  a

touchy time. Whatever this 'honor guard' is really about, we're just going  to

have to leave them to it for a while." '"Understood." He relayed the order  to

his pilots and changed the vector of his own wing,  letting  the  trio  they'd

been following drift slowly away. Now more than ever, he  wanted  to  ask  for

permission to land—not only to help out with things  on  the  surface  of  the

planet, but also, and more importantly, so that he could be with Jaina.

As soon as Tahiri was strapped  safely  onto  a  repulsor  gurney,  Goure

joined the rescue effort. Han raised an eyebrow at the sight of the  Ryn,  but

was too grateful for the extra set of hands  to  question  his  presence.  Two

people had been caught  under  the  rubble  and,  with  the  help  of  hastily

improvised repulsorsleds, their rescue was only slowly unfolding.  Jaina  lent

her efforts where she could—using the Force to search the rubble pile for weak

points, applying pressure where those  on  the  outside  couldn't  reach,  and

shoring up the healing  energies  of  the  victims  who  couldn't  be  treated

immediately—but it  didn't  feel  enough.  In  the  first  minutes  after  the

explosion, as panic  prompted  a  mass  evacuation  of  the  area,  chaos  and

confusion kept emergency services at a distance. The few who did get  through,

some of them dropping down from aircars with medpacs on  their  backs,  worked

harder than they probably had in their entire lives.

Beneath a foreboding sky, darkened further  by  a  thick  pall  of  smoke

hanging over the stadium, the P'w'eck bodyguards  had  tightened  their  ranks

around the Keera-mak. The multicolored Ssi-ruuvi mutant watched  on  from  the

safety of this vantage point, its expression unreadable  as  it  surveyed  the

carnage.

Jaina had barely had the chance to do more than hug her mother and father

in relief at seeing them again. It was only later, when medical reinforcements

arrived, that she had time to actually step back and take a proper look at the

world around her. Everyone was covered in  dust  and  splattered  with  blood;

where the two met, they made a dirty red paste. The survivors  had  a  shocked

look in their eyes, even those who helped in the rescue. Senators and security

guards were suddenly on the same level, united by the  terrible  tragedy  that

had taken place around them. No one paid any mind to the thunderstorm that was

brewing overhead; it  seemed  almost  irrelevant  in  the  face  of  what  had

happened.

But there was something else that wasn't as easy to ignore—a  sound  that

nagged at her from below the rumbling of the  crowd.  It  was  a  strange  and

haunting wail, an ululation that seemed in search of a  note  of  despair  but

couldn't quite find it.

Her father looked up, frowning. "You hear that,  Leia?"  Leia  turned  in

disbelief. "They've started again!" Jaina followed her gaze to  the  heart  of

the stadium. Sure enough, the ceremony had recommenced. She  could  see  lithe

reptilian aliens dancing in a circle, and one multicolored shape prowling  the

center, uttering noises that sounded like the angry song of some mighty bird.

"What is this? "she asked.

"They're going to finish the job," Han said,  the  stubble  on  his  chin

flecked with dust. "You've got to admire their persistence, don't you?" Admire

them? Jaina thought. Hardly. If anything, it was incredibly insensitive.  Even

over the sound of rubble shifting and the moans of those in pain, the  strange

sounds coming from the P'w'eck set her teeth on edge.

"I don't understand," she said. "Why would the Keera-mak  finish  it  now

when it would obviously be safer later?" "They're aliens," a  nearby  meditech

said. "Who's to say what goes on  in  their  heads?"  "Threepio,"  Leia  said,

"translate for me, will you?" The protocol droid stood up from where he'd been

lifting chunks of rock and placing them into a hamper. He tilted his  head  to

listen properly to the growing cacophony.

" The gulfs of space are not home to us,' " he translated, " 'and neither

are the barren worlds. The worlds of fire and the worlds of ice are  not  home

to us. Where oxygen burns and  water  flows,  where  carbon  bonds  and  ozone

protects—there we plant our roots. The seed of our species is fertile; all  we

require is the soil in which to plant it.' "  "More  of  the  same,  in  other

words," Han said. "But I still don't  understand  their  urgency  to  get  the

ceremony finished with all this chaos  around  them!"  Jaina  remembered  what

Harris had said earlier about the similarities between the  Ssi-ruuk  and  the

Yuuzhan Vong. The warriors of the Yuuzhan Vong wouldn't  consider  going  into

battle without making appropriate sacrifices to Yun-Yammka.  The  Ssi-ruuk  in

turn were loath to risk their souls on a world that hadn't  been  consecrated.

Perhaps the sudden carnage around them made them  want  to  get  the  ceremony

finished as quickly as possible, just in case more attacks were to follow.

She found it hard to understand the logic that drove  such  notions.  The

Force didn't demand sacrifice, nor favor one location over another. It  simply

was, in and surrounding all things.

Jaina's thoughts came back to Malinza's words on the swinging  of  cosmic

scales. She had to bring her parents up to speed on what had happened  to  the

young activist, and she also wanted to ask Goure where he fit into everything.

There were other, more pressing matters to consider, too—not the least of them

being what the Bakuran government would do once  things  settled  down.  Would

they put Malinza Thanas back behind bars? Or Jaina herself for  having  helped

the girl  escape?  Without  objective  witnesses  to  Harris's  treachery,  an

investigation could drag on for ages. And then there was Tahiri...

Good works lead to evil results.

Tahiri's brainwashing at the hands of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  shaper  Mezhan

Kwaad had been a terrible thing, but her  rescue  and  apparent  recovery  had

balanced that out. Anakin's growing love for her had been canceled out by  his

death. Where did that leave her  now?  The  reemergence  of  the  Riina  Kwaad

personality was only going to make things worse, surely. If there was  balance

in the galaxy, when was it going to swing again in Tahiri's favor?

Jaina's thoughts were distracted when the sound of engines whining joined

the chanting. It was growing steadily louder. Jaina looked  around,  then  up.

Emerging smoothly from the clouds were three  D'kee-dass  P'w'eck  troopships.

Bulbous around the middle and tapering to a fine  point  at  the  stern,  they

slowly descended toward the stadium. The huge canopy flag ripped  beneath  the

landing struts of one of the ships. Its tattered remnants flapped  chaotically

in the wind.

"Reinforcements?" Han asked of no one in particular. Some of the  stadium

crowd had defied security after the explosion  and  spilled  into  the  center

space, waving placards angrily. Jaina wondered if  they  thought  the  P'w'eck

were behind the crisis. The P'w'eck, armed with paddle beamers, were more than

capable of keeping the crowd back, but they must  have  been  aware  that  the

crowd could easily grow larger and more hostile if provoked.

"A quick getaway, perhaps," Jaina suggested. "They might be  keen  enough

to consecrate in the middle of all this, but I doubt that they'd want to stick

around afterward." "You could be right, honey," her  father  said.  Jaina  was

struck by conflicting impressions of him: how old he was getting, and how much

more alive he looked when the going got  tough.  He  might  sweat  and  fidget

through diplomatic negotiations, but when things took a turn for the physical,

he was often the first into the fray.

The alien vessels rotated in midair when they were over the  stadium  and

descended at a safe distance from the ring of P'w'eck  guards.  The  sound  of

engines had risen to an almost painful level, and the Bakurans  below  quickly

scattered, shaking fists into the air as they ran. The noise drowned  out  any

protest they made. D'kee-class ships were small as far as spacecraft went, but

still four stories high from base to tip.

"Excuse me, Mistress," C-3PO said.

"Look," Han said, shouting over the growing din. "Three more!" She shaded

her eyes and  looked  where  he  was  pointing.  Another  trio  of  ships  was

descending beyond the stadium walls, the same type of troopship as those  that

had just landed.

"What are they doing?" Leia asked.  Jaina  recognized  the  edge  to  her

mother's tone. She, too, was starting to have misgivings about all this.

"If I might interrupt, Mistress," 3PO tried again, gesticulating  off  to

one side. He was desperately trying to make himself heard, but the racket  was

smothering most of what he was saying.

Suddenly the engines from all three of the ships in the stadium below cut

out, allowing a relative quiet to settle around the  area.  The  chanting  had

ceased also, and the Keeramak was now standing in the middle of  his  enormous

entourage, glinting as though wearing rainbow-tinted armor. The  guards  stood

with their tails flat to the ground, paddle beamers held at the  ready  across

their chests.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, with one eye on what was taking

place with the P'w'eck, Jaina leaned toward C-3PO and muttered, "What was that

you just said, Threepio?" "The ceremony is  complete,  Mistress,"  the  golden

droid said.

"Thanks, Goldenrod," Han said. "But that seems pretty obvious from  where

I'm standing." "But, sir, I've  been  trying  to  explain  that  the  ceremony

required the Keeramak to give Bakura a new name — Xwhee." Leia faced him fully

now. "Did he happen to mention this fact to the Bakurans before he did it?" "I

doubt that very much, Mistress," C-3PO said. "You see, the Keeramak  has  also

dedicated Xwhee to the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium." Han and Jaina also turned to  look

at C-3PO now. As if in response to  the  droid's  words,  a  peal  of  thunder

rumbled from the tropical sky. Fat  raindrops  began  to  splatter  his  metal

cranium, turning what dust was there to a reddish mud.

"Threepio, are you sure about this?" Leia asked.

"Oh, quite certain. In fact, it was stated several times and in different

ways: as the 'glorious Ssi-ruuvi Imperium,' the 'majestic Ssi-ruuvi Imperium,'

the 'boundless and incomparable Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium'—"  Han  turned  to  Leia,

speaking over the top of C-3PO. "Couldn't this just be part of  the  ceremony?

Something carried over from the old ways? I mean, we still talk about the  New

Republic instead of the Galactic Alliance. Maybe their new Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium

has nothing at all to do with the old one." "I don't  think  so,"  Leia  said.

"Look at the ships." Rain began to fall in great sheets across the stadium  as

the sides of the troopships opened,  issuing  ramps.  Jaina  squinted  to  see

through the rain, trying to make out what lay inside.

Dull brown paint was falling away in the rain, revealing  golden  scales,

the sign of the Ssi-ruuvi priest caste. Relieved of the need for  concealment,

the priests' postures straightened,  shrugging  off  the  hunch  of  years  of

supposed  servility  and  adopting  the  cold,  straight-backed  pride   Jaina

remembered from holos.

Realization struck her like a physical blow. Of course!

The treaty with the P'w'eck was a smokescreen for the real  tactic:  once

Bakura belonged to the Ssi-ruuk, once it was consecrated, they  could  advance

on it in force!

"This can't be good," Han said  as  columns  of  russet-scaled  Ssi-ruuvi

warriors began marching out of the nearest troopship.

Jag's  frustration  immediately  increased  when,  at  the  peak  of  the

consecration ceremony, the feed from  the  ground  dissolved  in  a  burst  of

static.  All  transmissions  from  the  planet  ceased,  sending  white  noise

blistering through his ears. He quickly checked his comm and ascertained  that

the problem wasn't onboard. It lay outside his clawcraft.

"Selonia, I seem to have a communications outage. Anything coming through

from  your  end?"  "Negative,  Twin  One,"  came  the  reply,  distorted   but

comprehensible. "We've lost our uplink, too. Hold on while we look  into  it."

Jag waited anxiously with only the persistent static to listen to. Then,  amid

the crackly hissing, he heard another noise. It was like a wailing, constantly

fading in and out. It was unsettling—both haunting and hypnotic  at  the  same

time...

"I have launches!" The voice of one of his pilots jolted him out  of  his

reverie. A quick glance at his board confirmed the report: the nearest of  the

two P'w'eck carriers, Errinung'ka, was disgorging dozens  of  smaller  vessels

into the space around it. His computer instantly  recognized  and  marked  the

familiar droid fighters, but that proved to be only half the complement of the

new ships. The rest were of a type never before seen outside  the  borders  of

the Ssi-ruuk Im-perium. They were V'sett-class fighters,  and  if  his  memory

served him well they possessed twice the firepower of ordinary droid fighters,

as well as a superior maneuverability. Most importantly, though, they  carried

flesh-and-blood pilots.

It took him only a moment to figure out what was going on. The  P'w'eck's

offer of peace had been completely bogus; the consecration of the  planet  had

been nothing more than a means to clear the way  for  an  invasion  force!  It

didn't take a genius to know that things were about to get  very  nasty,  very

quickly.

"Twin Suns, full alert. Selonia, are you registering this?" "We  have  it

on our scopes now. Trying to raise General  Panib...  Communications  are  out

down there, too." The transmission dissolved  into  static  again.  The  voice

returned briefly with "... be jammed somehow. Be on..."  The  signal  vanished

beneath a howl of rising interference. Jag turned down the  gain.  What  next?

They had enemy ships pouring onto the scan and, as yet, no response  from  the

local forces. Between himself and the enemy were the mixed flights  comprising

the Bakuran/ P'w'eck "honor guard," now numbering in excess of two hundred. It

seemed from the way they were still  flying  in  formation  that  they  hadn't

received orders to engage or break away.  This  surprised  Jag.  Even  if  the

messages were being jammed, surely one of the Bakuran honor guard pilots would

have realized by now what was going on. And yet, there they all  were,  flying

in perfect formation, completely unaffected by what was happening around them.

Clicking his wingmates, he brought his clawcraft around to match  vectors

with the nearest trio of honor guard  fighters.  Two  droid  ships  flanked  a

Bakuran Y-wing in perfect synchrony, shadowing its  every  move  as  it  swept

around the planet.

He scanned the formation for energy emissions and  soon  discovered  that

"shadowing" was as far from the truth as it could get. The two droid ships had

powerful tractor beams locked on the Y-wing and were forcing it  to  go  where

they wanted it.

He plotted its course. In two orbits, it would intersect with the carrier

Firrinree. A cold chill ran through him. The droid ships were  kidnapping  the

pilot!

A quick scan confirmed that the same was true  of  all  the  other  honor

guard flights. Powerless to resist the  P'w'eck  tractor  beams,  the  Bakuran

pilots were helpless in the trap sprung on  them—and  half  of  the  Bakuran's

Defense Fleet was about to be taken down with them.

There was no way he could warn Twin  Suns,  Selonia,  or  General  Panib.

However, he wasn't about to sit back and let those pilots be reeled in  to  be

enteched. He could only hope that others  would  understand  his  actions  and

follow his lead.

Arming his forward batteries,  he  thrust  hard  to  cut  off  the  droid

fighters. A burst from his blaster cannon  skittered  off  shields  that  were

tougher than he'd expected. It weakened them slightly, but there was certainly

no penetration. As soon as he'd swept past, one of them  broke  away  to  give

chase. The first of his wingmates, Twin Six, met it with a hail  of  laserfire

that forced it to change course. It ducked away, although not before sending a

spray of energy at Twin Three as it did.

The second droid ship and its unwilling charge were making  a  break  for

it, abandoning all pretense of cooperation and  changing  course.  Instead  of

arcing gradually around the planet, the pair headed directly for Firrinree.  A

quick glance at his scopes confirmed that the others were doing the same.  The

masquerade was over; there was no longer any mistaking  the  honor  guard  for

what it was.

Jag lined up behind the fleeing droid fighter and sent a volley of lasers

through its weakened  shields,  quickly  reducing  it  into  space  dust.  The

liberated Y-wing instantly changed course, wiggling on its long axis  in  what

Jag took as a gesture of thanks.

Twin Two dispatched the other droid fighter  and  swooped  back  to  join

formation. The Y-wing followed, emitting a series of clicks. Jag  didn't  need

any more encouragement than that. Leading a diamond-shaped formation of  mixed

vessels, he targeted the next "honor guard" trio and closed in.

By then, his tactical scopes were full of new targets. The alien carriers

had emptied their launching bays, and hundreds of fully fueled  fighters  were

jockeying to protect the inbound captives. A rash of  launches  from  Sentinel

and Defender indicated that the Bakuran Defense Fleet had finally  caught  on.

The sky around Bakura was soon boiling as the  two  forces  clashed  over  the

"honor guard" ships, one half fighting to save  them,  the  other  half  doing

everything in their power to repel the rescue attempt.

Jag flew as he hadn't flown in a long time. It felt good to  be  fighting

an enemy who used a technology he was familiar with—even if that enemy  easily

outnumbered him and his squadron. In a strange way, it felt like he  was  back

at the academy sitting through a simulation, riding out  old  melees  with  an

instructor on his case. He was pleased that time  away  fighting  the  Yuuzhan

Vong hadn't eroded the reflexes he'd honed as a child.

The manned V'sett  fighters  were  tough  kills,  though.  Flattened  and

slightly curved versions of the droid fighters the Ssi-ruuk usually sent  into

battle, these were equipped with shield generators and sensor arrays at  every

corner. Their engines flashed an eye-piercing violet  when  powering  at  max;

their weapons burned a brilliant white. Each pilot hid behind an  opaque  hull

and shields that turned mirror-bright every time a shot came too near.

It was an earlier version of  those  shields,  Jag  had  learned  in  the

academy, that the Emperor Palpatine had coveted. Hence his attempt to  form  a

treaty with the Ssi-ruuk, just before the Rebels had beaten him at Endor.  Jag

dreaded to think what might have happened had the Emperor's dream  come  true.

If he'd had these shields back then, the Rebellion would have undoubtedly been

quashed and the outcome of the Battle of Endor would  have  been  considerably

different. Moreover, the Chiss, safe in the Unknown Regions,  might  not  have

been safe for much longer.

But the Chiss had fought the Ssi-ruuvi fighters before  and,  even  after

years of technical improvements, they were capable  of  doing  so  again  now.

V'sett fighters, Jag soon discovered, were  vulnerable  to  multiple  attacks.

Converging in pairs from different angles was difficult to coordinate  without

the benefit of effective communications, but all the pilots read the situation

similarly and they managed to struggle through. With a  few  multiple  attacks

under their belts, it got steadily easier, and in no time  at  all  they  were

taking out V'sett fighters in sufficient quantities to make the Ssi-ruuk think

twice. Soon the dense and volatile orbits surrounding Bakura were  a  mass  of

energy, dangerous for pilots on both sides to navigate through.

Seeing one of his squadron's X-wings  trying  to  shake  off  the  V'sett

fighter riding its tail, Jag set off in pursuit. He got a lock on the  fighter

as it dog-tailed after the X-wing, and he fired  when  he  thought  he  had  a

reasonable aim, but the fighter suddenly banked left after the X-wing and  the

shot went wide. Jag cursed under his breath as he brought the  clawcraft  back

onto the fighter's tail. Before he  could  line  up  another  shot,  two  more

fighters came at him from his port side, weapons blazing angrily  at  him.  He

sucked air through clenched teeth sharply and nosedived away from the incoming

fire. Seconds later, when he had chance to look again for the X-wing,  he  saw

it fall apart in a blaze of fire beneath the V'sett's blasters.

The two fighters he had just eluded were quickly back on his  tail.  With

the rest of the squadron engaged in the battle elsewhere, he  knew  that  help

wouldn't be coming anytime soon. He was going to have to make his own luck...

Han was backing up, looking for the nearest exit.  From  below  came  the

sound of screams as the crowd ran  in  a  panic  from  the  advancing  aliens.

Security guards opened fire on the  Ssi-ruuvi  warriors,  who  responded  with

blistering barrages from their paddle beamers. In leaps and bounds,  propelled

by powerful thigh and tail muscles, the Ssi-ruuk soon overwhelmed the  Bakuran

troops. The P'w'eck guards, who had originally  protected  the  Keeramak  from

attack, turned out to be genuine P'w'eck, unlike the disguised  priests;  they

protected their leader behind a tight huddle, beamers at the ready.

"A tactical retreat might be called for," Jaina suggested to her parents.

"Now that Bakura has been consecrated, my guess is that these  guys  won't  be

afraid to fight anymore." "If we get to the Falcon,"  Leia  said,  her  Noghri

bodyguards closing in around her, watching the Ssi-ruuvi  warriors  balefully,

"we'll have a better chance of dealing with this." "Does  Selonia  know?"  Han

asked.

Leia shook her head. "Jammed." Jaina thought of Jag and hoped he was  all

right. There was no telling what was happening in orbit. If  it  was  anything

like what was happening down here on the ground, then  it  was  going  to  get

messy fast. She wished she were behind the controls of her X-wing,  flying  at

his side, her only concern the enemy in her crosshairs. Things  were  a  whole

lot simpler in a dogfight.

But wishing wasn't going to get her or her family  away  from  here.  She

needed to act—and quickly!

She turned to find Goure standing at Tahiri's side.

"We need a way out of here," she said.

He looked up  at  her,  his  face  illuminated  sharply  by  a  flash  of

lightning. "The main exits are going to  be  blocked,"  he  shouted  over  the

thunder rolling from the sky.

Jaina looked around again. The rain was thickening, making it  harder  to

see what was happening in the  bowl  of  the  stadium.  Paddle  beams  sizzled

through the air, weaving a dense  and  deadly  fabric  of  energy  below.  The

leading edge was coming rapidly closer.

She nodded after a moment. "I think it's safe to assume that that's  what

the other three ships were for: to keep us from  getting  out."  "The  way  we

came, then." The Ryn pointed at the craterous hole in the stands. "It  has  to

be safer than staying out in the open." Jaina agreed, and together they  began

to gather up the confused rescue workers and spectators  still  milling  about

the area. She explained her intentions as best she could, asking them to trust

her as she sent them down into the hole. There was little resistance from  the

people; in the absence of any other plan, most were more than happy to  follow

her instructions. Once everyone was in, Han and Leia were  to  go  next,  then

wait for Goure to lower Tahiri into the hole on  her  gurney.  Jaina  and  the

Noghri guards would take up the rear to protect everyone's backs.

"What about the Prime Minister?" one of the women asked as she went  past

Jaina.

"What about him?" she shouted back over the rain. "He's dead!" "We  can't

leave his body here for the Fluties!" "But—" The protest died in  her  throat.

"Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do!" Leaving her  parents  to  supervise  the

evacuation, she looked around for the stretcher on which she'd last  seen  the

body. She found it tucked away behind an outcrop, covered in a  body  bag.  If

she could slave it to Tahiri's re-pulsor gurney, maybe they'd be able to  take

both of them out in tandem. The moment it got in her way,  she  told  herself,

then she would cut it loose. The living  had  to  take  priority  over  —  Her

thoughts stopped in midtrack as she went to move the stretcher. The  body  bag

caught on a twisted seat and pulled away, revealing it to be empty.

Her puzzlement was short-lived. Someone  else  must  have  had  the  same

concerns and already taken the body to safety; one of the guards or  Senators,

perhaps, who had made a break for it without the others. She didn't care.  The

problem was no longer hers; that was all that mattered.

She returned  to  the  crater,  where  the  last  of  the  survivors  was

disappearing into the hole. Glad that they would soon be making  a  move,  she

looked over her shoulder at the battle taking place in the  arena  below.  The

rain was heavier than ever, but she could still make  out  figures  moving  in

groups across the stadium bowl.  The  blasterfire  was  becoming  increasingly

sporadic as  Bakuran  resistance  failed  before  the  Ssi-ruuvi  advance.  It

wouldn't be long now before the stadium belonged to the Ssi-ruuk. Soon  after,

she assumed with a shudder, the captives would be rounded up and taken to  the

carriers in orbit for entechment...

She turned when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Come on, Jaina," her father said. "There's nothing more we can do here."

Although it galled her to leave the battle, the odds were so overwhelming that

she knew she didn't really have a choice.

Before she climbed back down into the hole, she cast her eyes up  at  the

cloud-packed sky.

May the Force be with you, Jag, she thought. Wherever you are.

Catching sight of the nearer  of  Bakura's  two  moons,  Jag  pulled  his

clawcraft up and away, aiming with full throttle toward it. He didn't need  to

look back to know the fighters were following; the  space  ahead  of  him  was

puffing with bright explosions from their misfired shots.

He brought the clawcraft in steeply to the northernmost part of the moon,

hoping to find some form of cover that might help him evade his pursuers.  The

closer he drew, the less likely this seemed. He brought his ship  around  from

its almost perpendicular descent, speeding off across the surface of the moon.

The ground was smooth and rolling, and looked to Jag to be made of an  immense

lava flow that had long since cooled. But it offered him no place to  hide—and

right now, that was all that mattered.

He jinked and swerved continuously in  a  bid  to  avoid  both  fire  and

tractor beams, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up indefinitely.  He

cursed himself again; this little maneuver of his  had  put  him  in  a  worse

situation than he'd been in before!

Without warning, the surface of the moon dipped sharply ahead of him, and

the smooth ground he'd been  following  became  a  motionless  waterfall  that

poured into a huge canyon easily fifty kilometers wide and at least  a  couple

deep. Crags appeared out of the shadows, along with large rocky outcrops  that

jutted from the walls of the canyon like crimson fists.  The  V'sett  fighters

followed effortlessly, no longer trying to shoot him out of the sky. They were

obviously intent on capturing him now. They must have realized that eventually

they would get him; they just had to be patient.

He brought the clawcraft down, getting in as close  as  possible  to  the

floor of the canyon, swerving frantically to avoid mineral deposits protruding

from the canyon floor. Ten meters wide and at least  three  times  that  high,

they looked like enormous petrified trees. And there were plenty of them, too,

forcing Jag to bring all his flying experience to bear just to  avoid  hitting

any. It was only when he inadvertently collected one with  a  shield  that  he

realized it didn't matter whether he avoided them or not: the "tree" dissolved

into a powder that silently washed over his viewport.  After  this  he  didn't

even bother trying to fly his way between these  bizarre-looking  protrusions;

he just flew in a straight line, bringing  down  whatever  was  in  his  path.

Hopefully, he thought, the  resulting  dust  would  be  enough  to  blind  his

pursuers — even if it afforded him only a moment or two, at least it would  be

something.

The canyon suddenly narrowed, though, and he knew he would have to  climb

out sooner rather than later, or wind up smashing straight  into  a  wall.  He

brought his ship up, aiming for a rocky outcrop on the uppermost ridge of  the

canyon wall. Two bony fingers of rock stabbed out into the sky, as if pointing

to the battle taking place overhead. If he could make it back up to  the  main

battle, he might just be able to get help from the others in the  squadron  to

get these fighters off his tail...

Realizing his intentions, the fighters opened fire again.  Rock  exploded

from the canyon wall nearby; debris rattled  against  his  shields.  He  aimed

between the fingers of rock, but miscalculated  the  space  between  them  and

clipped one on the way through. He called out in alarm as the ship rolled  out

of control out into the space above the moon.

He emerged from the spin battered and barely in control. The two  V'setts

on his tail negotiated the hail of debris  and  kept  coming.  He  jerked  his

clawcraft from side to side in a desperate attempt  to  avoid  their  grasping

tractor beams, but his collision with the rocks had allowed them  to  gain  on

him. It would only be a matter of seconds now before — A white  blur  streaked

up past his viewport. His sensors barely had time to register the Y-wing as it

flew within meters of him, torpedo ports firing. The  enemy  Ssi-ruuvi  pilots

didn't have time to deactivate their tractor beams before they sucked  in  the

proton torpedoes. One instantly exploded; the second took a hit that  sent  it

spi-raling wildly back to the surface of the moon,  where  it  flowered  in  a

brief and silent explosion.

Jag's rear scopes were clear again, but his little jaunt to Bakura's moon

hadn't come without a price. His damaged thruster complained  with  a  stutter

and a whine as he pulled hard around. The Y-wing swooped back to match vectors

with him. The pilot—the same one Jag and his  wingmates  had  rescued  at  the

beginning of the battle—waved through her canopy. The gesture had  little  joy

in it, though, and a quick scan told him why.

The Bakuran Defense Fleet was in bad shape.  Sentinel  had  been  hit  by

heavy bombing and its shields were down. Defender  was  standing  defiant  but

without enough fighters to have any real effect on the battle.  The  Ssi-ruuvi

forces rapidly mopped up any fighters it launched. Outnumbered  and  taken  by

surprise, Bakura lay open to attack.

In complete  contrast,  the  two  giant  Sh'ner-class  planetary  assault

carriers  hung  shining  and  impregnable   above   the   battlefield.   Their

impenetrable shields had repelled  everything  thrown  at  them.  Clusters  of

captured ships of all shapes hung nearby, waiting to be processed. Denied  the

basic dignity of dying in battle, hundreds  of  pilots  trapped  in  durasteel

coffins had only entechment to look forward to.

A triangular formation of seven  V'sett  fighters  accelerated  over  the

horizon of the small moon, coming up hard on Jag and the Y-wing. Jag urged his

clawcraft to go faster, but it had given him everything it could. Seven  fully

armed ships against his damaged craft  and  the  old  Y-wing  was  a  foregone

conclusion.

The jamming ebbed long enough for him to check in on his squadron.

"Twin Suns, report!" He juked to avoid a crippling energy blast.

"Three here." "Four." "Six." "Eight." There was  a  slight  pause.  "Jag,

they've got me." "And me," Six said.

"Looks like I'll have company, then," Three said. "They've got me,  too."

Jag cursed. Apart from himself, that left just one pilot  free—and  he  wasn't

sure how long he would last!

He watched with dismay as the Y-wing tried to dodge the incoming vessels,

only to be jerked back in the clutches of seven combined  tractor  beams.  The

pilot went without a sound. Either her comm was down or she  was  sparing  him

her despair.

Jag vowed then and there that he would not share a similar fate. He would

sooner blow his engines than allow his soul to be sucked out and squeezed into

a battle droid. But how could he do that when there was a chance  he  and  his

pilots could escape? While there was life, there was hope.

Jag was so frustrated he wanted to scream to get it out of his system. He

almost didn't feel the tractor beams as they  wrapped  around  his  struggling

clawcraft and started to drag it back into captivity.

Jaina watched from the rear of the column  of  survivors  as  they  moved

along the tunnels under the stadium  with  only  the  red  glow  of  emergency

lighting to guide them.

Despite the ferrocrete around them, she could hear the  sound  of  paddle

beamers and screams from up above. Although her lightsaber was still  attached

to her belt, she kept one hand on the  weapon  at  all  times.  There  was  no

evidence of immediate trouble, but she  knew  that  pursuit  wouldn't  be  far

behind.

The Ryn led the way, retracing their steps quickly  but  carefully,  with

Tahiri's gurney never more than an arm's length away. Water trickled ahead  of

them in snake-like streams, washing dust and debris down into  the  depths  of

the building and making the floor slippery and treacherous.

"I don't think my circuits will stand another minute  in  this  humidity,

Mistress," C-3PO declared after slipping for the sixth time. The complaint was

directed to Princess Leia, but he'd made sure it was loud enough  for  all  to

hear.

"Stop your complaining, Goldenrod." Han clapped the droid  on  the  back,

producing a metallic echo in the damp tunnel—as well  as  nearly  causing  the

droid to stumble again. "You've been through worse  than  this  and  survived.

Remember the incident with the stormtrooper uniform, last time we were  here?"

If 3PO could have shuddered, Jaina was sure he would have done so from the top

of his bronzed cranium to the base of his metal  soles.  "All  too  well,  I'm

afraid, sir," he said,  his  servomotors  whirring  with  each  step  and  his

photoreceptor eyes glowing sharply in the gloom. "Mine  is  not  the  kind  of

memory that allows me to forget easily."  Jaina  stopped  listening  when  she

heard a commotion ahead. Her lightsaber  was  out  and  ignited  before  she'd

barely taken two steps through the stream of survivors in front of her.

"Princess Leia! Captain Solo! What are you doing here?" Jaina  knew  that

voice. "Malinza?" she said, pushing forward. People made way for the  buzzing,

glowing blade. "You should've left long ago." "The exit was blocked." The girl

was at the front of the small group, blaster held  down  at  her  side.  Vyram

stood between her and their captives—a sullen Salkeli and  a  defiant  Harris.

Both were bound and gagged. "There are Ssi-ruuk everywhere out  there!"  Jaina

turned to Goure. "Is there another way out of here?" "I'm not sure."  The  Ryn

sounded calm and unflus-tered, but  the  lashing  of  his  tail  betrayed  his

nervousness. "But be might know," he said, pointing at  Harris.  "We  followed

him in here." She indicated for Malinza to remove his gag. "Well?" "Well what?

" he said, eyes blazing with anger.

"Is there another way out of here?" "Why should I tell you  anything?  To

help you?" He laughed lightly as he shook his head. "Don't imagine  that  I'll

be doing that in a hurry." "In case you hadn't heard, your plan went  horribly

wrong. The P'w'eck were just a smokescreen for  the  Ssi-ruuk.  You  may  have

killed the Prime Minister, but it didn't stop the consecration.  Once  it  was

completed, the invasion force moved in." Harris noticeably paled  in  the  dim

light of the tunnel. "Invasion?" He was at a loss for words, but not for long.

"If Cundertol is dead, Bakura will need a strong leader. You might not like my

methods, but I can get the job done. Set me free  and—"  "It's  too  late  for

that," Jaina said. "There's a good chance you might not survive the next hour,

let alone take the Prime Minister's  job."  "So  now  you're  in  charge?"  he

sneered. "Is that the way it works, Solo?" He turned to Malinza and the  other

survivors. "Don't you think it's convenient that the Galactic Alliance is here

just in time to save us from a crisis we never knew we had? At a time  when  —

"Save it, Harris," Jaina cut in.  "No  one's  listening  to  you.  There's  no

mistaking what we all saw out there. The Ssi-ruuk are  on  Bakuran  soil,  and

it's partly your fault they're here. You should have made  sure  of  your  new

allies before selling your soul to them." "It wasn't him who sold  his  soul,"

said a new voice from the shadows farther along the corridor.

A tall figure stepped into the light. At  first  Jaina  didn't  recognize

him. His blond hair had been burned away; bruises and scorch  marks  blackened

his skin. He wore the remains  of  ceremonial  robes  around  him  like  rags,

concealing his hands.

"The market  for  politicians,"  Prime  Minister  Cun-dertol  said,  "is,

perhaps unsurprisingly, quite small." "You?" Leia couldn't keep  the  surprise

out of her voice. "But you're—"  "Dead?"  The  big  man  smiled.  "Not  quite.

Luckily, the blast  only  stunned  me  for  a  time.  I  woke  up  down  here,

disoriented and lost. I heard footsteps and saw Malinza, but I didn't want  to

reveal myself until I knew what she was up to—and what exactly she  was  doing

with Blaine. I thought Freedom might have kidnapped him as  well  as  set  the

bomb. But I guess  I  was  wrong  about  you,  Malinza—and  for  that  I  must

apologize." The girl nodded a wary acceptance. "It was Harris," she said.  "He

set us up." "This is impossible," the accused man said. "That bomb was—I mean,

they said you were dead!" "Well, they were  mistaken."  Cundertol  pulled  his

right hand from beneath his robes to reveal a blaster. "As I was  mistaken  to

put my faith in you, Blaine. I  can't  believe  that  you're  responsible  for

everything that's happening to us today." Although the weapon pointed only  at

Harris, Jaina instinctively  tensed.  Her  lightsaber  rose  slightly.  Leia's

Noghri bodyguards also moved, hissing in warning  as  they  placed  themselves

between Cundertol and the Princess. Something about the Prime Minister  wasn't

quite right. Jaina could sense it, even if she couldn't define  it.  When  she

deep-probed him to see if he was a Yuuzhan Vong spy, she encountered a strange

texture. His presence was unlike any she'd felt before.

As if her instincts,  and  those  of  her  mother's  bodyguards,  weren't

enough, she could feel Goure's unease radiating palpably  from  him.  He  knew

something, she was sure of it, but he couldn't  say  anything  with  Cundertol

there. She decided to keep her lightsaber activated  until  she  knew  exactly

what was going on.

"You must forgive our surprise, Prime Minister," Leia said. "But the last

hour has been confusing, to say the least. You  may  have  gathered  that  the

P'w'eck peace plan was a sham for a Ssi-ruuvi attack—" He nodded, keeping  his

eyes on Harris. "The Fluties have obviously been planning this a long time.  I

don't suppose you have any idea how we can force them back?" Jaina  winced  at

the racist reference to the aliens. She'd heard it before, but on the lips  of

the Prime Minister it sounded especially crass and offensive.

"No doubt the defense fleet and Selonia are working on  something  as  we

speak," Leia replied. "Unfortunately the comm channels are jammed,  and  there

are Ssi-ruuk right behind us. We need  to  get  out  of  here  as  quickly  as

possible. If we can get to  the  Falcon,  that  would  be  ideal."  The  Prime

Minister nodded. "A sensible plan," he said. "Blame, you were about to tell us

if you knew a way out of here, I believe, before I rudely  interrupted."  "And

I'll say to you what I said to  her,"  the  Deputy  Prime  Minister  answered,

inclining his head toward Jaina. "Why should I help? The way I see it, I  have

absolutely nothing to lose." He glared balefully at Cundertol as he raised his

arms up in front of him and rattled his binders.

"You have your life to lose," Cundertol said simply.  "Would  you  prefer

entechment with the rest of us when the Fluties finally  catch  up?"  Harris's

glare intensified. "I can't help you, I'm afraid. You see, there is  no  exit.

They're all blocked. Our only hope is to hide in one of the equipment  lockers

until the Ssi-ruuk are gone, and then try to sneak out." "I'm not  really  one

for hiding," Cundertol said, with a regretful shake of his head.  The  blaster

in the Prime Minister's hand fired and Blaine Harris fell back onto the floor,

dead before he hit. "Sorry, my friend. But that was the wrong  answer."  Jaina

stood, stunned, as the blaster came around. Harris had  been  guilty  of  mass

murder, but she would never condone cold-blooded execution as punishment — and

had never expected it from someone like  Cundertol.  Salkeli  dropped  to  his

knees in supplication, obviously anticipating a similar  fate.  Jaina  stepped

forward to prevent another travesty of justice.

However, Cundertol's interest lay not with the Rodian.  Instead,  in  one

smooth motion he pressed the blaster directly against Malinza's temple.

"Now, seeing as there are no other options available..." Jaina froze.  If

she had thought she couldn't be more surprised than she already was,  she  was

quickly proven wrong when the Bakuran Prime Minister opened his mouth as  wide

as it would go and called out in the Ssi-ruuvi language. It consisted of  just

three notes, but they were so loud even the echoes hurt her ears. An answering

reply came almost immediately.

Her worst fears realized, Jaina cursed  under  her  breath  for  allowing

herself to be caught like this. She took a  step  forward,  but  stopped  when

Cundertol pushed the blaster even harder against Malinza's temple.

Cundertol grinned in triumph. He didn't have to move or say anything;  he

simply knew that Jaina wasn't about to risk Malinza's life. One squeeze of the

trigger and the girl would be dead.

Jaina lowered the lightsaber and tried another tack. "Let  her  go."  The

mental command accompanying the words  would  have  made  an  ordinary  person

instantly obey.

But the Prime Minister just shook his head. "I d6n't think so," he  said,

smiling.

"What are you?" Jaina asked.

The Prime Minister's smile widened, if that was possible.

"New," he said. "But we haven't got time for that right now. We  need  to

go and meet your new masters." Rapid footfalls came down the corridors  behind

and ahead of them. Deep, fluting calls passed back and forth between  the  two

alien search parties  as  they  converged  on  the  m  maintenance  area.  The

survivors drew closer together, moving  instinctively  into  a  corner.  Jaina

planted herself protectively between them and  Cundertol,  her  eyes  on  both

corridor entrances. Behind her, she felt her father and mother, Goure, and two

security guards doing the same. If only they'd rushed  Cundertol  when  they'd

had the chance, she thought. If  only  —  She  fought  herself  to  stop  such

thoughts. They were nonproductive at best. There'd be time for regrets  later.

If there was a later, of course.

"You knew about the Ssi-ruuk," Malinza hissed, held tight  in  his  grip.

Her voice was steeped in disgust. "You betrayed Bakura. You're no better  than

Harris!" "You're wrong on that score, I assure you," Cundertol said. "I am  in

every way better than Harris." There was no time for Jaina to wonder  what  he

meant. Six Ssi-ruuvi warriors burst out of the corridor to her  left,  running

with long, bounding strides and flicks of their mighty tails,  paddle  beamers

held before them in taloned hands. Their eyes and scales gleamed  red  in  the

emergency lighting. They came to a halt, hissing and screeching, at the  sight

of the fugitives before them.

The leader directed  a  series  of  piercing  notes  at  Cun-dertol,  who

responded fluently in the same language.

"Threepio?" Han prompted the droid from the corner of his mouth.

"I believe it is a  standard  welcome,"  the  droid  said,  looking  from

Cundertol to the Ssi-ruu. The giant saurian indicated the body of  Harris  and

swished its tail. "Now it is reprimanding  the  Prime  Minister  that  he  has

wasted this one." The second  party  arrived  before  Cundertol  could  defend

himself. At its head was the largest Ssi-ruu Jaina had  yet  seen—a  beautiful

red female warrior with pronounced ridges running back  along  her  snout  and

across the top of her skull. She wore a  black  harness  adorned  with  silver

medals that jingled with each step she took, and her nostrils flared when  her

gaze fell upon Jaina and the others.

Behind her came five more warriors of ordinary size,  protected  by  four

golden priest-caste Ssi-ruuk as well as  the  Keeramak  itself,  its  brighter

colors subdued in the dim light. The large party concluded  with  a  group  of

P'w'eck warriors that fanned out to cover the entrances.

The Keeramak moved forward with muscular grace, its massive jaws snapping

as though at imaginary insects. Its gold-scaled  servants  eyed  the  Bakurans

warily, daring them to speak. No one did.

A series of eerie, melodic notes then issued from  the  mutant  Ssi-ruu's

mouth.

" 'Surrender now,' " C-3PO translated, " 'and I will  ensure  that,  once

enteched, you will be put to productive tasks.' " "We were told you no  longer

required entechment," Leia said, not attempting to hide the  disapproval  from

her voice. "I suppose that was just another  lie."  The  Keeramak  executed  a

graceful bow. "One  of  many,  Leia  Organa  Solo,"  it  replied  via  C-3PO's

translation. "The truth  is,  however,  that  we  have  indeed  perfected  the

entechment process. It is now possible to sustain  life  energy  indefinitely,

reducing the need for frequent replenishment. Some energies, such as your own,

are too strong to resist. You will  enrich  us  for  centuries!"  Leia's  lips

tightened. From under her robes, she produced her own lightsaber—something she

did only when all attempts at diplomacy had failed. It cast a red light across

the face of the Keeramak.

"You  shall  never  have  my  life  energy,"  she  said   with   menacing

determination.

"Or mine," Jaina said, adding  her  voice—along  with  her  blade—to  her

mother's vow.

The Keeramak backed away, fluting as the guards closed in.

"The Keeramak says, 'As you wish,' " C-3PO reported.

"Don't be fools," Cundertol said. "Don't you understand what you're being

offered?" "All too clearly," Han growled.

"You're hearing the words, but you're not understanding them!  Entechment

isn't what you think it is.  It's  not  the  end;  it's  the  beginning!  It's

liberation, not captivity!" "You don't really believe that," Leia said.

Cundertol ignored her, addressing the others instead. "Imagine being  the

controller of your own droid ship, the heart of  an  interstellar  drive,  the

overseer of an entire city! Imagine the freedom you will achieve  when  you've

been cut loose from the shackles of flesh and blood. You'll be  able  to  live

forever!" "Freedom?" Jaina echoed. "We'll be slaves!" "Immortal  slaves!  What

are a few years of servitude in exchange  for  eternity?  They  will  pass  as

though mere moments!" Suddenly it became  all  too  clear  why  Cundertol  had

betrayed Bakura to the Ssi-ruuk.

"Is that what they've promised you?" Leia asked. "Immortality?  You  sold

out your planet and people for a promise of longer  life?"  Cundertol's  smile

was wide and amused. "Actually, Princess, they didn't promise me  anything.  I

worked it out for myself. They didn't come to me seeking  a  bargain;  we  met

halfway. From there, it was just a matter of working out the  details."  Jaina

shook her head. "Surely you can't be that naive! If you think  it's  going  to

happen like—" "Not going to happen—it's already happened!  If  you  refuse  to

accept the truth of it, then I cannot help you. Your fate is already  sealed."

The Keeramak clicked its claws, and half the P'w'eck moved forward through the

ranks of Ssi-ruuvi guards. If there was going to  be  a  fight,  then  clearly

these were to be sacrificed first. Jaina felt sick to her stomach. As  bad  as

it was to be facing captivity and entechment, it felt worse to know  that  her

only hope of escaping would mean having to fight and possibly kill slaves.

Lwothin, even more fidgety than usual, led the contingent. He  turned  to

the Keeramak and inclined his head in what Jaina  took  to  be  a  gesture  of

respect and subservience. The mighty Ssi-ruu uttered a deep,  powerful  warble

that she didn't require C-3PO  to  translate  for  her.  As  far  as  she  was

concerned, it could have meant only one thing: the Keeramak was  ordering  the

P'w'eck guards to subdue the prisoners.

Lwothin nodded his long,  reptilian  head  and  raised  himself  to  full

height. Jaina tensed, her lightsaber igniting with a press of her thumb as she

braced herself for the assault. With a cry that both surprised  and  terrified

her in equal measures, Lwothin brought up his paddle beamer  and  fired  point

blank.

The engines of Jag's clawcraft were running hot.  Despite  that,  it  was

still firmly tethered to the V'sett fighters that had captured him  and  being

drawn inexorably toward a  growing  knot  of  captured  Bakuran  and  Galactic

Alliance vessels. Comprised of more than one hundred fighters,  the  knot  was

being drawn through a narrow hole  in  the  shields  of  the  massive  carrier

Eninurfg'ka. Two Fw'Sen picket ships accompanied them,  making  certain  there

was no trouble. The vast, curving sweep of the carrier's bow loomed over  him,

making him and his fate seem powerfully insignificant.

Clicks came over  the  comm  as  he  joined  the  formation  of  captured

fighters. Bound tight by powerful tractor beams, all he and his  squadronmates

could do was signal each other as they were dragged to their doom.  Nearby  he

could make out the pilot of the Y-wing in her cockpit,  hands  visibly  poised

over her controls, a grim expression on her face. Jag had no  doubt  from  the

look in her eyes as she stared through her cockpit canopy at him  that,  given

the opportunity, she would fight back—to the death if need be. Her  eyes  held

the same dark determination he felt in his heart.

Not that such an opportunity would eventuate. Once they were on the other

side of those shields, that would be it. There would  be  no  hope  of  rescue

then.

I'm sorry, Father, he thought, wishing there  was  some  way  that  Baron

Soontir Fel could hear him. And his mother. They'd had such hopes for him. All

his life he had struggled to prove himself worthy in  their  eyes.  The  slow-

maturing child of aliens in a fiercely competitive society, growing up in  the

shadow of Thrawn and his father's ambition. How could he ever  have  suspected

that he would meet such a fate as this?

"This is Captain Mayn." The voice came clearly over the comm unit. "  I'm

addressing you on an open frequency. The jamming has been interrupted  to  let

me relay orders from the ground. All fighters must  stand  down  or  planetary

bombardment will begin immediately. They have paralysis weapons that can knock

out an entire city. Salis D'aar will be the first target.  Therefore,  in  the

best interest of innocent civilians, I am asking for all resistance to cease."

Jag listened to the words with growing amazement. Could this really  be  Todra

Mayn speaking? The thought of just  giving  in  to  the  Ssi-ruuk  turned  his

insides to water.

"If we stand down now, Captain, then they're as good as dead anyway," Jag

said over the same frequency.

"We have an assurance from the Ssi-ruuk that, once the  planet  is  under

Imperium control, we shall be treated fairly." Jag jerked the yoke of his ship

to fight the dreadful tug of the tractor beams. "Like the  P'w'eck  were,  you

mean? As breeding stock for droid fighters?" "Anything is better than  dying."

He could tell by the way his engines were shrieking that they weren't going to

last much longer at full throttle. If he was going to blow  them,  to  end  it

quickly rather than in the mental cage of a droid fighter, then he  was  going

to have to do it soon—while he still had engines to do it with!

"You have to trust me, Jag." Captain Mayn's voice was thick with tension.

"They have Jaina." So? he wanted to yell back at her. Is one life  worth  more

than that of an entire planet?

But he couldn't say it. His heart tore at the idea that  Jaina  might  be

hurt. With numb fingers, he throttled back and let the alien shield slip  over

his craft. The shield itself was invisible to all but his instruments, but  he

imagined it as the maw of some mighty  beast  waiting  to  swallow  him.  Once

ingested, fierce gastric juices would remove his soul and  dispense  with  his

useless carcass afterward...

Then the barrier slammed shut behind them, and they were inside.  In  the

awkward stillness and silence, it felt like an  entirely  different  universe.

Outside, beyond the barrier, skirmishes lit up the starry backdrop as  pockets

of resistance still fought the Ssi-ruuvi invaders. The picket ships, once they

had delivered their  cargo,  returned  to  patrolling  the  area.  Inside  the

Errinung'ka's shield there was only stillness. Caught in the web cast by droid

and V'sett fighters, the captives  could  do  little  more  than  curse  their

misfortune. And wait.

Everything suddenly stopped as the Keeramak, without a  single  noise  of

complaint, crumpled to the floor.

There was a split second during which the Ssi-ruuk  were  so  stunned  by

Lwothin's actions that they did  nothing  at  all.  They  simply  stood  there

gawping at the Keeramak lying on the ground, oozing a gray, viscous fluid from

the paddle beamer wound in its chest. The P'w'eck were quick to take advantage

of the Ssi-ruuk's confusion, and other paddle beamers began to  flash  in  the

dimly lit tunnel. For a moment, Jaina was confused, too, but that didn't last.

It was obvious what was happening: Lwothin  and  the  P'w'eck  were  rebelling

against their Ssi-ruuvi masters!

The Ssi-ruuk were better trained and better equipped  than  the  P'w'eck,

though, and they soon regained the advantage, fighting back  with  frightening

ferocity. Jaina had no doubt as to whose side she was on, and when a Ssi-ruuvi

warrior leveled his beamer at  Lwothin,  she  quickly  slashed  out  with  her

lightsaber and knocked the weapon from the creature's hand. It  swung  around,

attacking her with three raking claws,  and  she  barely  managed  to  duck  a

decapitating blow. The saurian was huge—but she had sparred with Saba Sebatyne

enough times to know the kind of things a tail could do in combat.  And  there

was still the Force, guiding her every move, tweaking her instincts.  Fighting

the Ssi-ruuk, thankfully, wasn't like fighting the Yuuzhan Vong,  whose  every

intention was hidden from view.

She ducked and rolled, kicking up into the Ssi-ruu's midriff. It  whuffed

explosively and staggered backward, It used its  tail  to  keep  its  balance,

swiftly regaining its footing and lunging at her again. But she was out of the

way before it could strike out, rolling under its sweeping talons once  again.

She came around its side, two-handedly slicing across the creature's neck.  It

fell to the floor with a shriek, spraying blood.

Another warrior howled and tried to skewer  her  with  a  shot  from  its

beamer. Her lightsaber was unable to deflect the beam  as  effectively  as  it

would a laser shot, but she did manage to bend it harmlessly into  a  wall.  A

P'w'eck leapt onto the warrior's back and brought it down.  Jaina  pulled  the

beamer from its grasp and threw it over to Vyram, who deftly snatched it  from

the air and aimed it at Cundertol's face.

He fixed the Prime Minister with an unflinching stare. "I won't  hesitate

to pull this trigger if that blaster so  much  as  gives  Malinza  a  bruise."

Neither moved  as  the  fracas  around  them  came  to  a  surprisingly  quick

conclusion. The shock of their leader's death seemed to eat at the  Ssi-ruuk's

initial confidence. As the last of the surviving warriors allowed  herself  to

be subdued, the Prime Minister lowered his weapon to his side.

"You ruined it," he said, looking emptily  down  at  the  Keeramak.  "You

ruined it for all of us!" "Yeah?" Han said,  looking  around  at  the  P'w'eck

collecting weapons and distributing  them  among  the  Baku-rans.  The  paddle

beamers were awkward to handle, but having something to fight with was  better

than nothing at all. "I don't see anyone else complaining." The advance leader

of the P'w'eck Emancipation Movement spoke urgently in his lyrical voice.

"Lwothin  asks  that  you  contact  our  fighters   immediately,"   C-3PO

translated. "He says that the jamming has been interrupted  to  allow  you  to

speak." "What am I supposed to tell them?" Leia asked.

Lwothin sang again. "Oh, my," 3PO said. "He wants you  to  tell  them  to

offer no resistance—to allow them to be captured!" Leia opened her mouth,  but

her husband spoke his mind first. "No one's giving any  such  order!"  Lwothin

explained his plan as best he could in the limited time. When he had finished,

Jaina watched Leia glance down at the body of the Keeramak, the  look  in  her

eyes suspicious and dubious.

"How can I be sure that you're not asking me to send those fighters  into

a trap?" "You cannot," the P'w'eck sang in reply via C-3PO. "But  if  you  say

nothing then those pilots are as good as dead anyway. This is their only hope.

" The P'w'eck's eyes were luminous  behind  their  rapidly  flickering  triple

eyelids. "The time for lies and traps has passed. We stand before you  now  as

allies and equals. We will not betray you." Every  instinct  in  Jaina's  body

screamed out to believe him. For the first time, she felt as though  they  had

reached the heart of the conspiracies surrounding Bakura.  Leia  clearly  felt

the same. With a brisk nod, she activated her  comlink  and  called  Pride  of

Selonia.

The conversation was brief and to the point. The next message Jaina heard

over the comlink was Captain Mayn's general  broadcast  to  all  the  Galactic

Alliance fighters.

"This is Captain Mayn. I'm addressing you on an open frequency." When she

was finished, Jag's voice came back with: "If we stand down now, Captain, then

they're as good as dead anyway." At the sound of his voice,  something  inside

Jama suddenly relaxed. When Lwothin had described the fighting taking place in

orbit above Bakura, her first thought had been of Jag,  wondering  whether  he

had been among those killed. Or worse, captured for entechment.

"I have an assurance from the Ssi-ruuk," Mayn went  on,  maintaining  the

pretense of surrender, "that, once the planet is under  Imperium  control,  we

shall be treated fairly." "Like the P'w'eck were, you mean? As breeding  stock

for droid fighters?" "Anything is better than dying." There was a high-pitched

groan over the open line as though of a fighter undergoing stresses it  hadn't

been designed for. Jaina waited for Jag's reply, but it didn't come. She could

feel his uncertainty and desperation as though he were standing next  to  her.

His concern for her burned like a small but intense star.

Captain Mayn clearly sensed it, too.

"You have to trust me, Jag," she said. "They have  Jaina."  The  lie  cut

Jaina deeply, but she knew immediately that it was the right thing to say.  If

anything could make Jag defy his deepest, most ingrained instincts, then  that

would be it. His concern for her ran deep—deeper than he had admitted aloud.

He didn't reply, but she knew that he had capitulated.

"I presume you know what you're doing, Princess," the  voice  of  Captain

Mayn added on a private channel.

Leia adjusted the comlink to reply on that same channel. "I  do,  Todra."

She glanced at Lwothin with the threat of murder in her  eyes.  "Trust  me  on

this." Time seemed to have frozen. Caught in the web of the Ssi-ruuvi shields,

Jag vibrated with tension. He had no way of knowing what was happening on  the

ground or elsewhere in orbit. The jamming had returned not long after the  end

of Mayn's transmission. He felt isolated and powerless,  like  all  the  other

pilots trapped in their fighters around him, waiting for their captors to move

in and take them...

Then  something  strange  happened.  His  sensors  registered  a   slight

lessening of the tractor beams holding him in place. Suspecting that  some  of

the Ssi-ruuvi escort may have dropped away now that they were safe within  the

shields, he checked his scope. Their escort hadn't moved.

A second later, the tractor beam readings dropped again.  He  flexed  his

controls and found that his clawcraft had retained a measure of mobility.

He sat for a moment, fighting the impulse to pull  loose.  What  was  the

point? If he did break free, what was he supposed to do?  The  shields  around

the carrier would stop him from escaping anyway,  so  it  seemed  a  pointless

exercise.

But then there was yet another dip in the  readings,  and  this  time  he

couldn't help himself: he found his hopes rising. It  couldn't  just  be  him,

surely. The grip of the Ssi-ruuk on their captives was  slipping.  A  rush  of

excitement thrilled through him as he realized what must be going on.

The P'w'eck droid ships that had accompanied the Bakuran fighters on  the

"honor guard" flights were slowly  redirecting  their  tractor  beams.  Having

delivered an undamaged attack force behind the shields of the enemy, they were

now seeing them free—gradually, so the Ssi-ruuk wouldn't notice.  The  P'w'eck

were rebelling against their masters—for real,  this  time—and  using  Bakuran

firepower as their weapon!

Jag clicked three times in rapid succession to call  for  attention.  The

captured Twin Sun pilots clicked in immediately. There was  a  growing  rustle

over the comm indicating that others were noticing the  change  and  wondering

what was going on. He didn't have much time; he would have to act fast  before

the Ssi-ruuk noticed.

When the tractor beams dropped once more, he clicked  twice,  then  twice

again. It  was  the  squadron's  code  for  "attack,"  and  the  response  was

instantaneous. Jag and his pilots pushed their ships from a standing start  to

full throttle at virtually the same instant.  Tearing  free  of  the  weakened

forces binding them, they roared out of formation and swooped around to attack

the unprepared Ssi-ruuk. The V'sett fighters were,  much  to  their  surprise,

caught in the droid ships'  tractor  beams,  reducing  their  maneuverability.

Within seconds, it was over. The Ssi-ruuk were destroyed and the tractor beams

holding the remainder of the captives fell away completely.

The formation immediately dissolved into chaos.  Communications  cleared.

Jag opened his comm on all frequencies, hoping  to  regain  order  before  the

jamming returned.

"Stay calm, people!" he ordered. "Maintain your original  formations!  Do

not fire on the droid ships! I repeat, do not fire on the droid ships. They're

piloted by the P'w'eck, remember, and they're on our side. They were the  ones

who got us here." "What's so good about  here?"  one  of  the  Bakuran  pilots

returned.

"Here we have a target," Jag  replied,  turning  his  claw-craft  in  the

direction of the alien carrier. "We're inside the shields, and their squadrons

are outside. They can't call for reinforcements without opening themselves  up

for attack from Selonia or Sentinel." He grinned in anticipation of the battle

ahead; it was so obvious, now that he saw it. " They've  given  us  a  chance,

people, so let's not waste it!" The dramatic triple reversal of  the  P'w'eck—

from enemy to ally, then to enemy and now back to ally—left the Bakuran pilots

understandably confused, but they obeyed Jag's orders  and  left  the  P'w'eck

alone. Flights of threes and fives re-formed and swooped down from  the  inner

edge of the shields to attack the carrier. Jag gathered the remnants  of  Twin

Suns around him and did the same. The carrier bays weren't  completely  empty,

and a dozen V'sett fighters soon rose to meet them. Six droid fighters came in

close pursuit. Caught from behind, the Ssi-ruuk's defensive  charge  was  soon

scattered.

"Go for the tractor beam generators," Jag instructed the pilots  swarming

around him, searching  for  targets.  "Then  make  strafing  runs  across  the

deflector-shield projectors. Try to keep structural damage to  a  minimum.  We

have friends in there, and I'd rather  not  lose  a  single  one  of  them  to

friendly fire." Then he  was  down  in  the  maelstrom,  finding  targets  and

launching laser bolts as fast as he could. He made a couple of passes  at  the

ion cannons that ringed the carrier's bulging waist  and  managed  to  destroy

three. Others from his squadron cleaned up the rest.

The response from the carrier was sluggish, and he put that down  to  the

P'w'eck who were revolting both inside and outside the  ship.  But  he  wasn't

fool enough to believe that this advantage would  last  indefinitely.  At  750

meters long, the carrier would have been a  formidable  opponent  for  even  a

hundred fighters.

Still, he thought, any amount of  damage  they  could  inflict  upon  the

carrier would be something. The more they could do here, he figured, the  less

work there'd be for Jaina later...

Word of the breakout of the Galactic Alliance fighters came from  Selonia

within moments of the airwaves clearing. Jaina, however, had no time  to  hear

the details. A sudden blur of motion caught her attention. Thinking  that  one

of the Ssi-ruuvi captives had made a  break  for  it,  she  whirled  with  her

lightsaber at the ready, but instead all she saw was the back  of  the  former

Prime Minister sprinting off down the corridor. Vyram was lying on  his  back,

rubbing his right forearm.

"I'm sorry," he said, clambering to her  feet.  "He  moved  so  quickly!"

Jaina didn't wait; she immediately set off after Cun-dertol. They couldn't let

him escape. If he got to a communicator, the plan would  be  exposed  and  Jag

could be captured for real. She followed the rapid pad-pad  of  his  footsteps

along the dusty corridors as he looped around the others and headed up  toward

the hole Harris's bomb had blown in the stadium.

She soon realized what Vyram had meant about  the  Prime  Minister  being

quick. Cundertol's speed was impressive.

The sound of his footsteps ahead veered  off  in  a  new  direction.  Two

corners and fifty meters later, she understood why. A squadron of P'w'eck  who

had overthrown their masters came down the tunnel  toward  her,  blocking  the

exit to the stadium. Cundertol hadn't wanted to  run  into  them,  so  he  had

ducked down an alternate tunnel, probably heading for the exit Malinza and the

others had tried before. Jaina didn't  hesitate;  she  turned  down  into  the

tunnel, too, startling the P'w'eck squadron as she ran past but  not  stopping

to explain herself.

Jaina could hear Cundertol running down  stairs  two  floors  below.  His

footfalls were heavy and, incredibly, unflagging. The source of  his  strength

and endurance concerned her. Even she was beginning to  tire,  despite  having

the Force to augment her stamina.

A door slammed somewhere up ahead of her, and she knew that Cundertol had

left the stairwell on the fifth basement level. She made herself  run  faster,

hurling herself forcibly at the door when she reached it. The door had  barely

begun to swing back when something struck out at her from the gloom on the far

side. She knocked it aside with a reflexive Force shove and  rolled  away.  As

she got to her feet and adopted a defensive stance, she had just  enough  time

to make out Cundertol at the far end of a  wide  corridor.  Something  whizzed

through the air toward her. She moved her head just as a small bolt ricocheted

off the wall behind her, leaving a deep dent. Her first thought  was  that  he

was using a slingshot, but his hands were clearly empty. She didn't have  time

to dwell on it, though, as another bolt whizzed by her head, so close that she

could feel it flick her hair.

He's throwing them! she thought, incredulous.

His strength might have been superior to his aim, but she wasn't about to

give him a chance to practice. She sent a Force push that would have thrown an

ordinary man off his feet. All it did  to  Cundertol,  though,  was  make  him

stagger backward. It wasn't much, but it was enough. She ran across  the  open

space before he recovered.

He had no intention of sticking around to fight. Instead  he  disappeared

through yet another door with disconcerting  speed.  She  followed,  but  more

cautiously this time. What was he? Where was he getting his strength and speed

from? Whatever was going on, it was obvious she wasn't going  to  be  able  to

catch him with speed alone. She was going to have to try something else.

His footsteps receded down another corridor, then abruptly stopped.

Jaina hesitated at the corner, warily peering around it.

The dark corridor seemed empty, but she knew he was down there somewhere.

"You must know you're not going to get away with  this,  Cundertol,"  she

called, hoping to get at least an estimate of his position from a reply.

"No?" he responded. His voice was muffled by something  other  than  just

distance. "And I suppose you're going to stop me, girl?" "That's my intention,

yes." She frowned, unable to place him.

" I'm afraid that the best intentions can often count  for  nothing,"  he

said, suddenly dropping down behind her. "Not when survival is at stake."  She

spun around to strike out at him, but he knocked her  aside  as  if  she  were

nothing more than a rag doll. His speed and strength were far beyond those  of

an ordinary man. She shoved off the wall and came back at him with a strike to

the head, igniting her lightsaber with the other hand as she did  so.  He  was

under the blow before it could connect, punching up at her  and  knocking  her

off her feet. She flew five meters through the air, her lightsaber  inscribing

a wide, black arc on the floor as she fell-but she didn't let go of it.

Cundertol didn't want to waste time with talk. The twisted expression  on

his face told her that he was concerned with only one thing: escape.  As  long

as she stood between him and that goal, she would have to be  eliminated.  She

back-flipped onto her feet before he could reach her and warned him away  with

a swing of her lightsaber.

He feinted to her left, then came at her from her  right,  ducking  under

the blade and delivering a blow to her chest that felt as  though  she'd  been

hit by a force pike. She flew off her feet again and landed  on  her  backside

with a painful grunt. This time her grip on  her  lightsaber  failed  and  the

weapon went skittering across the floor. Before she could snatch it back  with

the Force, Cundertol had already stepped up to finish her off.

"You put up a good fight," he said, looking threateningly over her.

"It isn't over yet," she returned, summoning the lightsaber  back  toward

her.

It shot through the air with a whine  and  a  hiss.  Hearing  it  coming,

Cundertol rolled  away  to  one  side,  but  not  before  the  sizzling  blade

connected. He fell back with a roar, clutching his injured arm. Jaina used the

moment to climb back onto her feet, albeit with some difficulty. Her legs were

weak from Cundertol's attack, and the  world  seemed  to  be  swaying  crazily

around her. Nevertheless, she  managed  to  hold  her  ground,  directing  her

thoughts once again out to the lightsaber. This time  it  flew  straight  back

into her hand.

Cundertol, however, had already taken flight. She could see  him  at  the

end of the corridor, nursing his arm as he rounded a  corner  and  disappeared

from sight. She was about to give chase again, when the  sound  of  feet  came

clattering up behind her.

"Jaina!" Her mother was beside her, arms  coming  around  her  shoulders.

"Are you all right?" She nodded. "Cundertol," she said, waving vaguely in  the

direction he had taken. "He went that way!" "Don't worry, kid. We'll get him."

Her father's silhouette led a  mixed  group  of  humans  and  P'w'eck  up  the

corridor after the former Prime Minister.

"Be careful!" she yelled after them as her mother's hands guided her down

onto the floor, where the world was mercifully level. She crouched  there  for

what felt like forever, fighting nausea. Cundertol had  hit  her  harder  than

she'd suspected.

"You'll be okay," her mother was saying. "It'll be all right." Jaina knew

that it wasn't. Her thoughts were confused, fragmentary. Something  about  her

fight with Cundertol bothered her. What was it? She had wounded him, she  knew

that much. She'd cut his arm — Then she saw it, lying in  the  shadows  a  few

meters away from her. She wriggled from her mother's grasp and  made  her  way

over to  it,  staring  at  the  thing  with  a  mixture  of  satisfaction  and

puzzlement.

"What is it?" her mother asked from behind her. "His  arm,"  Jaina  said,

squinting at the limb. She hadn't just cut his arm, she'd  completely  severed

it below the elbow! "At least the lower part, anyway." But there was something

distinctly not right about it. Apart from a small smattering  and  some  minor

seepage about the stump, there was no blood to be seen anywhere.  Sometimes  a

lightsaber could cauterize veins as it cut and stop the bleeding, it was true,

but it wasn't just the blood that piqued her suspicions—it was the  smell.  It

stank of cooked synthflesh.

"It's okay, Jaina," her mother said, coming up  beside  her.  "It's  over

now. They'll get him—especially if he's injured." Her  mother's  words  washed

over her as she realized uneasily what it was she'd been  fighting.  Cundertol

was a droid!

"No, they won't," she said, staring numbly at the artificial  arm.  "Even

injured, he's going to get away." Before  she  could  explain,  a  barrage  of

fluting sounded from nearby.

"Excuse me, Mistress," C-3PO said, "but Lwothin re-ports that Errinung'ka

has surrendered to the P'w'eck. Firrinree is expected to follow shortly." That

should make up for losing Watchkeeper and Intruder, at least, Jaina thought to

herself.

"What about Jag?" she managed to ask her  mother.  "Has  there  been  any

word?" "There has," she said, nodding. "He's leading the attack  on  Firrinree

even as we speak." Her mother's voice was soothing.  Under  the  words,  Jaina

knew she was trying to say, It's not your problem; let it go.

Maybe she was right, but Jaina doubted she'd be able to relax fully until

she knew for sure that Jag was nearby and they were both a long way  from  the

threat of entechment...

EPILOGUE

Jacen stared at the result in  disbelief.  He  could  feel  the  combined

attention of everyone in the room as the data from Wyn's  search  through  the

library's records flowed down the holopad in front of him.  Listed  was  every

system that had gained a planet in the last sixty years. Saba  and  Danni  had

already examined most of them during their search of  CEDF's  files,  and  the

rest had turned out to be either ordinary planetary acquisitions  or  fleeting

encounters with the living planet. All told there  were  fifteen  acquisitions

and a further forty encounters. But  unfortunately—and  frustratingly—each  of

them could be ruled out.

Jacen shook his head in dismay. "It's not here." "It  has  to  be  here,"

Mara said. "There's nowhere else it could  have  gone!"  "Unless  it's  hiding

somewhere in the rest of the galaxy," Luke said, wearily.

"But we'd know about it if it was," Mara said.

"Perhaps we just haven't looked hard enough. It might be in  one  of  the

smaller backwaters—like the Minos Cluster, for instance." "Or  maybe  it  left

the galaxy altogether." Danni's voice was heavy with  gloom.  "Or  perhaps  it

just died." "No," Jacen said. "It didn't die. We have holos of it  around  two

of the systems it visited, remember?" Jacen was finding it hard  to  keep  the

frustration from his voice.

"And it can't have left the galaxy, either—not unless it knows  something

about hyperspace that we don't." "Or it's found a way to exist without a sun,"

Luke put in.

Jacen shook his head. "I refuse to accept any  of  those  possibilities."

"Then what are you going to do?" Fel's was  the  voice  of  cold  reason.  "If

you've looked and you haven't found it,  and  you've  ruled  out  every  other

possibility, then where does that leave you? Perhaps Zonama  Sekot  really  is

nothing but a legend." "No," Jacen said firmly. "No,  I  can't  believe  that,

either. Vergere wouldn't have lied to me." "Can  you  be  absolutely  sure  of

that?" "Yes." Jacen met the  one-eyed  stare  of  the  assistant  syndic  with

stubborn determination. "Yes, I can. Zonama Sekot is real. All we have  to  do

is find it." He turned back to the hologram. "Somehow..." "Well, you now  have

the support of the Houses if you want to continue looking in Chiss space," Fel

said.

Jacen felt exhausted. His uncle's hand came  to  rest  on  his  shoulder,

reassuring him. Saba and Mara brushed minds with his to offer  their  support,

too. He was grateful for the gestures, but he was unable to silence the  doubt

that Soontir Fel had given voice to. What if Vergere bad lied to him? What  if

Zonama Sekot was just a dream?

From far away, almost a quarter rotation around  the  galaxy,  he  sensed

Jaina's  capitulation  to  exhaustion  at  the  completion  of  her  duty.  He

occasionally felt flashes of his twin sister, even from so far away.  It  felt

good, he thought, and wished he could do the same.  He'd  barely  slept  since

arriving on Csilla, and it was getting so  that  he  couldn't  think  straight

anymore. His body felt weak, hollow and fragile, and had it not been  for  the

Force propping him up, he was sure he would have collapsed into himself  hours

ago.

But despite the aid of the Force, he knew he was going to  have  to  rest

eventually. Staring dully at the data—even if he did it  forever  and  a  day—

wasn't going to surrender any answers.

"Right or wrong," he said, standing, "you're going to have to try to find

it without me for a while, I'm afraid. I need to rest." Without another  word,

he brushed past his aunt and left the room, ignoring the concerned  look  from

Commander Irolia as he walked deep into the aisles of the library.

Danni came to him half an hour later. He had tucked himself in  a  corner

at the library's uppermost level. It  was  peaceful  there,  uncomplicated—the

perfect place to clear his head.

"Hey." She eased herself next to him and leaned against  the  wall.  They

sat side by side in silence, their legs gently touching. He felt he should say

something, but he simply didn't know how to express what he was feeling.

"You know," she said after a long  silence  he  barely  noticed,  "I  had

another thought." He half turned to her. "About  Zonama  Sekot?"  She  nodded.

"What if it broke apart? The stress of all that jumping must  have  taken  its

toll. Worlds are pretty fragile, after all. One slipup could have  cracked  it

wide open, and we  never  actually  looked  for  new  asteroid  belts."  Jacen

acknowledged her suggestion with a polite nod, but he didn't really credit it.

He couldn't afford to. Zonama Sekot was out there; it had to be! There had  to

be something lurking in the data that he'd overlooked-or something  he  hadn't

yet looked for...

"Are you angry with me?" Danni said hesitantly.

"Huh?" The question startled him from his thoughts. "Angry with you?  Why

would you think that?" She shrugged. "You don't seem to want to  talk  to  me,

that's all." "No, I'm not angry,  Danni.  I'm  just  tired.  I  haven't  slept

properly. I came up here to think things  through."  "Things?"  she  prompted.

"You mean Zonama Sekot kind of things?" He  nodded,  grinning.  "Zonama  Sekot

kind of things." "I've been thinking about things, too," she said. "Us kind of

things." "Really?" She nodded once, turning her gaze briefly on  to  the  vast

expanse of books spread out before them, as if searching for  the  words  that

might best convey her thoughts. "It's strange,  you  know.  I  can  crack  the

biological secrets of the Yuuzhan Vong; I can plot the likelihood of  a  solar

system capturing a new planet; but sometimes I can't even begin to guess  what

goes on inside your head, Jacen Solo." He took her hand. "Danni, I—" "No,  let

me finish. We've known each other for a few years, now—since the beginning  of

the war, when you rescued me from Helska Four. But it wasn't until that day on

Mester Reef that I saw you for who you are. Not as one of the Solos, or a Jedi

Knight, or Jaina's brother-cm!  as  you.  And  I  liked  what  I  saw."  Jacen

remembered that day well: the variety of life in and  around  the  coral;  the

green of Danni's eyes and the brownness of her skin; the promise in her smile.

..

"You're strong," she said. "It may surprise you  to  know  that  I  think

you're the strongest person in the entire Galactic Alliance. You're  the  only

one with the courage to  question  what  everyone  else  regards  as  a  great

privilege. Most people would happily accept the honor of being a Jedi  Knight,

but you don't. You look beneath the honor and try to understand what it  means

to be a Jedi. That sort of strength can't be  taught,  Jacen;  it  comes  from

within.

"And you're kind," she went on. "No, look at me," she said when he turned

away, beginning to feel awk-ward. "This is stuff you  need  to  hear.  In  the

middle of a war, it's hard sometimes to remember the good things.  People  are

rewarded  for  being  great  fighters,  but  rarely  for  exhibiting   gentler

strengths, such as  kindness  and  compassion—or  the  kind  of  loyalty  that

questions rather than accepts. Your sister gets all the medals while you  fade

into the background."  "The  medals  don't  interest  me,"  he  said.  "And  I

certainly don't begrudge Jaina getting them — "I know that," she  interrupted.

"You would never resent anyone for her success. That's just  another  of  your

strengths." She paused, smiling. "Shall I go on?" He shook his  head,  smiling

also. "I think I get the idea." "Jacen, I'm not saying this to embarrass  you—

or to prompt you into saying something similar in  return.  Don't  ever  think

that. I'm saying it because I think you need to hear it." "Why?"  "Because  to

you, success depends solely upon finding Zonama Sekot. I understand that,  and

I understand its importance in the greater scheme of  things.  But  there's  a

smaller scheme, too—one that I feel you've already succeeded in.  After  years

of crossing each other's paths like some wandering satellites, I'm  glad  that

I'm finally close enough to you to be able to say that you've grown into a man

I'd be proud to call a friend." Her gaze held his, its intensity matched  only

by the seriousness of what she was saying.

She stopped there, with a gentle squeeze of his hand that told him it was

his turn to speak. He knew he had to say something in  return,  regardless  of

whether or not he felt comfortable doing so. He sensed that  she  was  talking

about more than friendship, and he wasn't sure how to define his  feelings  in

return. He vividly remembered the day he had rescued her from  Helska  4;  she

had seemed so beautiful to him, so much older and  more  mature,  and  utterly

unobtainable. He may have rescued her from the Yuuzhan Vong, but at the end of

that day, he had been just a boy and she was a woman. And he still  carried  a

measure of that impression with him. Although he was with her now, talking  as

equals, the young boy in him remained at a distance, unable  to  believe  that

anything else could be true.

Like some wandering satellites...

He was about to try to explain  his  feelings  to  her  when  her  phrase

returned to him. The words were niggling at his thoughts, demanding attention.

For some reason her use of the metaphor troubled him, but not because of  what

it meant to him. It made him think of the fruitless quest Vergere had sent him

on—although it wasn't immediately apparent why her simple  words  caused  this

reaction in him. Satellites? As far as he was aware, Zonama Sekot didn't  have

any satellites. In fact, he doubted it could have even kept one with  all  the

hyperspace jumps it had performed. Perhaps it had acquired one  since  —  Then

the answer struck him in one blinding flash. It was so obvious he  could  have

kicked himself!

Consumed by the inspiration, he completely forgot about Danni  and  their

conversation. Afraid of losing any more time, of missing  an  opportunity,  he

abruptly stood up.

"Jacen?" Danni said, her expression puzzled as her hand  fell  back  into

her lap. "What—" "I've got it!" The exclamation came out with a  laugh.  "Come

on, Danni. Let's go!" He hurried down the stairs, heading back to  the  ground

level and the massive pile of books they had sorted through.  He  was  vaguely

aware of Danni running behind him, calling out for him to stop and asking what

was wrong. But there simply wasn't enough time to stop and explain; she  would

have to hear what he had to say when he told the others.

Everyone looked up when he ran to the table. Danni was only a few seconds

behind him, her look of confusion reflecting the expressions of the others.

"We need to run another search," he said breathlessly as he stepped up to

Wyn.

His uncle was the first to respond. "Another search?  But,  Jacen,  we've

already searched every planet in the—' "Not for planets,"  Jacen  interrupted.

"For moons." Luke crinkled his brow at this. "Why would we  do  that?"  "Think

about it," he said breathlessly. "If Zonama Sekot entered a  system  around  a

gas giant, it wouldn't show as a world, would it?  It'd  be  registered  as  a

satellite-just like Yavin Four. A habitable world in a habitable  zone—but  it

would be listed as a moon! Don't you see?  We  would  have  missed  it!"  "But

Jacen," Danni said from behind him, "the  tidal  forces  of  entering  such  a

configuration would be incredibly severe." He dismissed  her  protest  with  a

wave of his hand. "I'm sure Zonama Sekot could find a way around that—just  as

it always found a way to escape whenever it needed to.  It's  resourceful  and

determined." He faced his uncle, wanting the Jedi Master to  believe  him.  "I

know I'm right about this. We have to do the search." His uncle thought  about

it for a long moment, and then turned to Wyn. "Will it take  long?"  The  girl

looked nervous at being the sudden focus of such attention. "That  depends  on

how many possible targets there are." "There probably wouldn't be  too  many,"

Danni said. "System captures are scarce enough as it is, but  the  acquisition

of extra-solar world-sized moons by gas giants would be extremely rare. I'd be

amazed to find even one in the last hundred years. The odds of it happening in

a system's habitable zone are minute." "Could  Jacen  be  right,  then?"  Mara

asked.

Danni studied Jacen  critically,  then  shrugged  and  smiled.  "I  guess

there's only one way to find out." Jacen sent a wave of warm gratitude in  her

direction.

The look of rage on Shimrra's face was the  most  satis-fying  thing  Nom

Anor had ever seen. Even from a distance and viewed through  a  villip  beacon

concealed in Ngaaluh's robes, it thrilled him to the core of his black heart.

"Tell me again," Shimrra said, in the tight, too-controlled  manner  that

presaged an explosion of anger, "how your incompetence led to  the  fugitives'

escape." "Yes, Dread Lord." Taking a deep breath, the commander  Hreven  Karsh

repeated almost word for word his explanation of how his warriors had  allowed

a small and relatively helpless party of Jedi and Imperials  to  slip  through

their fingers in the Unknown Regions. Nom Anor was coming into the story late,

but it appeared as  though  this  party,  led  by  the  Skywalkers,  had  been

instrumental in foiling an operation that should have taken  the  insular  but

fiercely militaristic nation known as the Imperial Remnant out of the  picture

altogether. From there, they had moved into the Unknown Regions.  Karsh,  sent

by the leader of the attack on the Imperial Remnant, had tracked  the  mission

from a distance but lost  them  on  the  edge  of  Chiss  space.  The  present

whereabouts of the Skywalkers remained,  much  to  Karsh's  embarrassment  and

chagrin, unknown.

Hreven Karsh was an inexperienced commander. His  relative,  Komm  Karsh,

had died trying to obtain information from the abominable libraries on  Obroa-

skai, and he had slipped into the  empty  shoes  with  ambitious  relish.  His

ritual modifications—vonduun crab armor plates inserted  under  his  skin  and

coaxed to grow and overlap at  odd  angles  so  that  his  skin  took  on  the

appearance of a buckled, jagged crust—had been conducted in haste. The wounds,

in fact, were still weeping. But the discomfort they  would  have  caused  was

nothing compared to the indignity he must have felt at having  to  detail  his

failure to the Supreme Overlord—nor to the punishment  that  would  inevitably

follow.

"We are presently combing the fringes of the Chiss empire for any sign of

the fugitives and—" " 'Combing'?" the Supreme Overlord interrupted, descending

with menace from his spiny, bloodred  throne  of  yorik  coral.  His  scarred,

slashed, tattooed face twisted into a sneer. The mqaaq'it implants in his  eye

sockets burned with an all-too-familiar glare. "Did you say 'combing'?"  Karsh

swallowed uneasily as the Supreme Overlord approached with careful, calculated

steps. "I did, Great One." There was no  mistaking  it  for  anything  but  an

apology.

"What are you, Karsh? The handmaiden of some infidel  princess?"  Shimrra

snarled out his words barely centimeters from the commander's face. "My  Lord,

no! I only meant—" "We are the Yuuzhan Vong, Karsh. We do not comb.  We  take.

This galaxy and everything in it belongs to us — including the worlds  in  the

Unknown Regions! You will remind the Chiss of that fact. If they are harboring

the fugitives you seek, then you will not let their borders  hinder  you.  Nor

will you pander to their delusions of grandeur. You will  put  them  in  their

place—and you shall do so by taking what is rightfully ours,  not  by  combing

delicately through that which the Chiss mistakenly believe to be their own. Do

I make myself clear?" "Yes, Supreme One!" Karsh stiffened  in  resolve.  "las-

sure you that the Jeedai will be found. I swear it on my domain's  name."  His

tone had lost its frightened edge. He sounded more relieved that the  audience

with Shimrra seemed to be drawing to a close. If he was lucky,  he  might  yet

walk away from this meeting  unscathed.  With  the  luxury  of  distance  from

Shimrra's wrath, Nom Anor knew better.  By  sending  Karsh  into  the  Unknown

Regions, Shimrra had effectively sacrificed the commander  in  a  gambit  that

would do nothing more than antagonize another enemy.

"Excellent, Karsh. Excellent." Returning to his throne, Shimrra  sat  and

faced the commander one more time. "Now, come to me and give  me  your  hand."

Karsh did so, climbing the  steps  nervously  to  Shimrra  and  extending  one

scarred, clawed hand. The Supreme Overlord looked the commander in the eye and

smiled.

"No," he said, resting back in his black-and-gray robes.  "Sever  it  and

give it to me. I will keep it as a reminder of your promise. Should  you  fail

me again, I shall sacrifice each and every member of your domain to the  gods.

Is that understood?" Karsh nodded tensely, understanding  all  too  well  that

Shimrra meant precisely what he said. Taking a  sharp-edged  coufee  from  the

scabbard at his side, he raised it with one hand and, with a blank  expression

on his face, neatly sliced off the other. The severed limb fell with  a  heavy

thud to the floor. A patter of light footsteps came  as  the  bent,  mutilated

figure of Shimrra's familiar capered forward to collect it while  Karsh  stood

rigidly to attention.

Shimrra waited a long moment as Karsh's lifeblood spilled  out  onto  the

ground, splashing his boots. Then he nodded his  approval  to  the  commander.

"You may go." Karsh walked stiffly to the exit. The view was  perfectly  clear

in the villip. At last, Nom Anor had exactly what he needed: an  insight  into

Shimrra's inner sanctuary, an ear to  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  leader's  words  and

thoughts.

Things were clearly not going well for the Supreme Overlord. The lack  of

advancement since taking Yuu-zhan'tar seemed  to  have  afflicted  the  entire

Yuuzhan Vong force. Resistance had formed where  previously  there  was  none,

supply lines had been sabotaged, terra-forming of the capital world was  at  a

standstill, and the priests warned  incessantly  of  the  tightening  hold  of

heresy on the lower ranks. This last part  pleased  Nom  Anor  the  most.  His

efforts had sent  a  tide  of  dissent  lapping  at  the  walls  of  Shimrra's

stronghold.

Nom Anor's satisfaction deepened as the conversation in Shimrra's  throne

room moved to other matters. He could hear  every  word  perfectly.  Attacking

Ngaaluh had turned out to be the best thing  he  could  have  done.  Far  from

making the priestess fear him, it seemed to have bolstered her resolve to defy

the Supreme Overlord.

"I owe you my life, Master," Ngaaluh had gasped up at him from where  she

had lain on the floor, the day they had met under their new circumstances. She

had been weak and pale, but gradually regaining her strength. The antidote Nom

Anor had administered was slowly taking effect. "You are  truly  Yu'shaa,  the

compassionate one, and I am your  humble  servant."  Nom  Anor  recognized  an

opportunity when he saw one, and he had no reservations in exploiting one when

it came his way.

"I have given you back your life," he had said to  the  priestess.  "With

what are you prepared to repay me?" "I  would  repay  you  with  my  life,  my

Master." " You would willingly  risk  it  for  me?"  "Without  hesitation,  my

Master." "And if I were to ask you to risk it for the Jedi?" "If you  were  to

ask me to risk it for a ghazakl worm, I would do so without question," Ngaaluh

had said. "But for the Jeedai I would gladly offer my life  in  sacrifice,  so

that I might again become one with the Force." Nom Anor  remembered  Ngaaluh's

words distinctly. It was a  conclusion  that  hadn't  come  from  him  or  his

followers, but rather something Ngaaluh had devised herself.  Over  subsequent

days, as the priestess slowly regained her strength, Nom Anor had  probed  for

the source of this and other conclusions Ngaaluh had come to  before  deciding

to seek out the Prophet for  herself.  It  transpired  that  Ngaaluh  had  had

contact with the treacherous creature Vergere, who  had  sowed  the  seeds  of

doubt in her mind while in the safekeeping of the deception sect. Ngaaluh  had

been doubting the established pantheon for  some  time  since,  and  had  been

seeking a way to incorporate the Jedi and the Force into the  worldview  she'd

been brought up to accept. Some of  the  priestess's  conclusions  echoed  Nom

Anor's fictitious propositions—such as the idea of the Force being an echo  of

the spirit of Yun-Yuuzhan — but others were truly her own. The idea that death

reunited the Yuuzhan Vong with the spirit of their creator was, in Nom  Anor's

opinion, an inspired one—and one that allowed him to offer the Shamed Ones  an

excuse to risk their lives in his service.

As someone well acquainted with deception and deceit, she had tracked the

Prophet's Message to its source and, by virtue of her sincerity, had inveigled

herself among the acolytes.  Nom  Anor  was  not  so  naive  as  to  take  the

priestess's servitude at face value. He knew  there  was  a  possibility  that

Ngaaluh was a double agent, emptily spouting  the  words  she  knew  Nom  Anor

wanted to hear. Nevertheless, the opportunity to send Ngaaluh back to  Shimrra

equipped with a villip beacon was one too perfect to turn down.

"... marked downturn in  the  far-reaches  destabiliza-tion  program,"  a

subaltern was saying. "The  infiltration  phase  is  complete  in  many  rival

communities, with conflict escalating to the point of open war in others.  But

in at least two major instances the infidels have intervened to halt our work.

In both cases the work of our agents was not just undone but  ultimately  used

to strengthen the infidels. I fear that this counteracts the  successful  work

achieved in other areas." "This was the program initiated by Nom Anor, was  it

not?" an aide asked. "If so—" "Do not speak that name in my presence!" Shimrra

interrupted sharply, standing. Then, with more composure but no humor at  all,

he smiled. "Not until I have his severed head before me and I wear his  flayed

skin as a cloak will I hear the traitor's name again." The Supreme  Overlord's

mqaaq'it implants burned like miniature suns. "You will do  well  to  remember

that. Otherwise it will be your head I shall have before me." The aide  backed

away. "Yes, Most Potent and Powerful One. I simply wished to  point  out  that

the fact that this program is the work of—of a certain former  executor  might

explain its failure. It was  flawed  to  begin  with,  My  Lord,  and  perhaps

therefore should be abandoned." "No," Shimrra  said  thoughtfully,  descending

the steps of his throne. "It was a good plan when it was proposed, and  it  is

still a good plan. We will continue with the program for the time being. It is

an effective use of resources in  a  region  far  from  the  main  front.  Any

temporary alliances formed as a result of the incompetence of our agents  will

be corrected when the rest  of  the  galaxy  has  fallen."  As  the  subaltern

retreated into anonymity, Nom Anor told himself  that  he  should  be  feeling

satisfaction, not hurt. Shimrra's acknowledgment of his  destabilization  plan

was the highest praise he had ever received from the Supreme Overlord. It  was

nice to know that, reviled as he was, his skills were  at  least  appreciated.

But to hear himself dismissed as a "certain former executor" was galling.

"What news of the heretics?" Shimrra asked.

High Priest Jakan glided reverently forward. "Our spies  have  failed  to

penetrate the inner command circle," he said. "Our lack of knowledge of  their

doctrine is too great, their loyalty too strong." "Loyalty to what?" "To their

leader, Great Lord. He is the one from whom this heresy springs." "And what is

his name, this so-called leader of Shamed Ones?" "He is  called  Yu'shaa,  the

Prophet." "A prophet?" Shimrra offered a short, menacing laugh. "Does  he  see

things, this prophet? Things that are to be?" "So it  is  said,  Great  Lord."

"And does he see his own death,  I  wonder?"  The  high  priest  did  not  say

anything to this, nor did Shimrra expect  a  response.  The  Supreme  Overlord

clenched one gnarled fist and raised it in the air for all to see. "I want him

destroyed. Do you hear me? I want him found and destroyed. I want him  crushed

along with all of those who follow  him!"  "It  will  not  be  easy,"  Ngaaluh

announced evenly, disguising the voice of her  heart  behind  an  intelligence

report. Claiming information gleaned through the work of  her  sect,  she  had

persuaded the priest Harrar to allow her into the  throne  room  with  him.  "

Yu'shaa's followers grow steadily with each day. His message spreads  farther.

His voice, through them, is slowly building from a whisper into a  shout  that

will soon be too loud to silence." Shimrra turned  on  her,  a  mask  of  cold

anger. From the steadiness of the image he was watching, Nom  Anor  knew  that

Ngaaluh neither flinched nor trembled as the Supreme Overlord approached her.

"And what is it they will be shouting, priestess?" he  said.  He  was  so

close to her now that the seared and tattooed face of Nom Anor's former master

seemed to fill the villip. "What is it they want?"  Ngaaluh  didn't  hesitate.

"They want status, Highest  One.  To  be  un-Shamed.  They  want  acceptance."

Shimrra's hideous visage creased in  puzzlement.  Acceptance?  Un-Shamed?  Nom

Anor could  barely  repress  a  cackle.  He  could  almost  read  the  Supreme

Overlord's mind. What sort of infidel nonsense was this?

The puzzlement faded. Shimrra pulled away. He was no fool. He  would  not

mistake the ultimate goal of the heresy. The  concept  of  redemption  of  the

Shamed Ones struck at the very heart of Yuuzhan Vong hierarchy. It  undermined

the authority of those who stood at the top of that hierarchy. It gave a voice

to those who were crushed at the bottom.

On the glorious day when Nom Anor  walked  into  the  Supreme  Overlord's

throne room as the un-Shamed leader of a rising tide of resentment,  he  would

look in Shimrra's eyes and stand before him  as  an  equal.  Only  then  would

Shimrra know just how thoroughly he had lost and how triumphant Nom  Anor  had

been.

That a "certain former executor" could  tunnel  into  the  heart  of  the

Supreme Overlord's ziggurat from its deepest basement would show everyone that

he was someone to be reckoned with. His name would be accursed no longer.

In a high-pitched singsong voice, Onimi,  the  hideous  familiar  of  the

Supreme Overlord, spoke: "Know, my Lord, they  will  not  succeed  In  turning

seditious dreams to deed." Shimrra turned his attention to  his  familiar.  "I

agree that it sounds preposterous, inconceivable—but if every Shamed One  were

to revolt, to take up arms..." "Numbers alone will not suffice, nor any amount

of sacrifice. Night and day you are protected by guards loyal to you, prepared

to die." "Indeed," Shimrra said, scowling around the room at those  attending.

His thoughts, again, were obvious: on top  of  the  shapers,  intendants,  and

priests who were having increasing difficulties maintaining his realm,  Hreven

Karsh had failed him, a perfectly good plan set in place  by  a  fugitive  was

beginning to fall  apart,  and  a  priestess  had  just  delivered  his  death

sentence. And these were the people who were supposed to protect him?

No, things most certainly were not going well for the Supreme Overlord.

Indeed, Nom Anor echoed with growing elation.  And  if  I  have  my  way,

Shimrra, things are going to get a whole lot worse for you yet!

When she walked into the Bakuran infirmary ward, Leia couldn't help  feel

as if she'd done it all before. She'd been in enough med units in her time  to

know that they all pretty much looked the same, and this one was no exception.

However, this wasn't the source of her deja vu. What gave this moment  such  a

strong sense of familiarity was the patient.

Tahiri lay unconscious on the room's sole bed, just as  she  had  on  Mon

Calamari. The only difference was her eyes. This time they were wide open  and

saw nothing. She could have  been  resting  peacefully,  but  for  the  fierce

burning of her scars. The marks left on  her  forehead  by  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

master shaper on Yavin 4 seemed to flare up in response to  her  psychological

distress. Salis D'aar's meditechs had found no means of  easing  her  internal

suffering. The girl made no impression in the Force, giving  Leia  nothing  to

work with. All she could do was imagine what was going  on  inside  the  young

woman's mind and body.

Jaina and Jag looked up from their position beside  the  bed.  Jaina  was

still supposed to be  confined  to  the  hover-chair  the  medical  droid  had

assigned to her, but in a typical show of independence, she had  discarded  it

within minutes of getting out of bed. Jag hadn't left  her  side  since  she'd

awoken, despite the fact that he must have been as exhausted as she was. Their

hands stayed firmly clasped whenever they were in range, as though  they  were

terrified to let go for fear of losing each other again.

Leia warmed at that thought. She  had  felt  that  way  many  times,  and

understood it all too well. What pleased her more than anything else  was  the

fact that Jag was slowly abandoning his reservations about  open  displays  of

affection in public. It seemed that his close encounter  with  entechment  had

made him realize that time was simply too short to  waste  on  worrying  about

what people thought.

"How's she doing?" Leia asked.

"The same." Jaina  turned  her  attention  back  to  Tahiri.  "She's  not

responding to anything they try, and I  can't  get  through  to  her.  Perhaps

Master Cilghal could do something, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "It's like

she's not even there." They stared at the injured girl for a long moment,  the

gloominess of their thoughts filling the  room.  Then  Jaina  made  a  visible

effort to change the mood, straightening and stretching her arms.

"So, has the new treaty been ratified yet?" "Signed and sealed." Leia was

grateful for the change in  topic.  "The  P'w'eck  Emancipation  Movement  has

formally allied with Bakura. Lwothin and Panib put their names to  the  papers

half an hour ago. They've agreed to hold elections within the month, to  share

all Ssi-ruuvi assets seized in battle, and to initiate  a  liberation  program

for the P'w'eck who stayed behind. My guess is,  once  word  spreads,  they'll

start seeing refugees from the Im-perium  within  months,  and  some  sort  of

retaliation within a year. I hope that by then Bakura will be strong enough to

stand on its own. At least they know it's coming, so they can prepare."  "What

about the Keeramak?" Jag asked. "The body  is  already  on  its  way  back  to

Lwhekk.  They  figure  returning  the  body  of  their  Grand  Shreeftut  will

temporarily appease the Ssi-ruuvi Conclave, even if  it  arouses  the  Elders'

Council. The resulting conflict should keep them  occupied  for  a  while,  at

least." Leia was still amazed at both the complexity and the audacity  of  the

Keeramak's plan. Having risen to power ten years after the decimation  of  the

Imperium at the hands of the New Republic, it had used its  unique  status  to

formulate a reprisal that very nearly worked. Faking a P'w'eck uprising wasn't

hard; New Republic worlds responded to the idea of rebellion all  too  easily,

so to the locals the story wasn't  implausible.  The  nagging  fear  that  the

P'w'eck might be as bad as their former masters  could  only  be  assuaged  by

reassurances from the very pinnacle of Bakuran government,  and  the  Keeramak

had found an elegant way to solve that problem.

"The droid technicians have finished  analyzing  Cun-dertol's  arm,"  she

said.

Jaina's face hardened. "And?" "It's  as  you  thought.  He  was  a  human

replica droid." Jag  hugged  Jaina  lightly  around  the  shoulders  when  she

shuddered. "He looked so real."  Leia  nodded,  understanding  her  daughter's

revulsion. "The specs of his wrist and hand matched those of the  droids  made

by Simonelle the Ingoian, over thirty years ago. The bones are poly-alloy; the

muscles and other organs are made from biofiber; his skin was grown in a clone

vat; and everything else is just synthflesh. Despite it being an  abomination,

it's actually an incredible piece of work." "No wonder he didn't  want  to  be

examined on Selonia," Jaina said.

"I didn't think such things were possible," Jag said to  Leia.  "Imperial

intelligence reported that Project Decoy failed." "It did. We never managed to

get the droid brains up to scratch—although Simonelle did by modifying an AA-1

verbobrain. They can be useful in certain circumstances, but by and large they

tend to be clumsy and unconvincing." "None of  which  applied  to  Cundertol,"

Jaina said, rubbing at her breastbone, which obviously still smarted from when

the Prime Minister had attacked her.

"Someone on the black market must have made progress in the last  twenty-

five years. Someone prepared to charge for their efforts, too. Long before you

were born, Jaina, HRDs used to cost over  ten  million  credits.  I  can  only

imagine how much one would cost today." "I'm sure we'll  find  that  out  once

Vyram and Malinza have finished tracing the missing credits."  As  part  of  a

"rehabilitation" scheme,  the  two  ex-activists  had  been  co-opted  by  the

government to demonstrate  that  the  information  they'd  found  earlier  was

genuine. Although the kidnapping charges  had  been  overturned,  Freedom  had

still technically been an underground operation,  and  some  sections  of  the

interim government wanted an  assurance  that  they  would  no  longer  pursue

illegal activities.

Salkeli, on the other hand, had been sentenced on all manner of  charges.

The Rodian wasn't going to see daylight for a very long time indeed.

"So, let me get this straight," Jag said, frowning.  "Cundertol  covertly

pays someone untold millions of credits to build a replica droid  of  himself.

Right?" Jaina nodded. "Then he books the Jaunty Cavalier to pick up the  droid

from the manufacturer and deliver it somewhere near here. We don't know  where

yet; maybe an abandoned base or a temporary station. It doesn't really matter,

just as long as it's somewhere private." "Then he fakes his  own  kidnapping,"

Leia went on. "This is the tricky part.  He  has  to  get  offworld  and  back

without raising suspicion. He can't take his bodyguards or  his  advisers.  He

has to be completely alone while the process is under way." "And that  process

was entechment." Jag's face was pale at  the  thought.  "I  can't  believe  he

voluntarily turned himself in to the Ssi-ruuk so they could suck out his soul.

" "Well, he must've had a good idea that they wouldn't just  stick  him  in  a

droid ship and bleed him dry. He was their key to Bakura, after all.  As  long

as they gave him what he wanted, he would reciprocate." "You've got to  admire

them, really," Jaina said. "The plan was actually quite brilliant.  They  were

going to get an entire world in exchange for making Cundertol immortal. And it

almost worked." "But would it have worked?" Jag asked. "I  thought  entechment

wasn't permanent—that the life energy of the subject gradually decayed." Jaina

nodded. "Lwothin explained when  we  met  him  that  they'd  made  significant

advances in the science of entechment. That much was true, at  least."  "There

was a Jedi student named Nichos Man,"  Leia  explained,  "who  had  a  similar

process performed on him  for  medical  reasons.  He  died  with  the  Eye  of

Palpatine, so we don't know how long he would have lasted." "Cundertol  wasn't

a clunky droid like Nichos was, though," Jaina protested. "He looked  as  real

as you or I—and he smelled  real,  too,  otherwise  he  wouldn't  have  fooled

Meewalh and Cakhmain. Once the Ssi-ruuk had stuck him into the  HRD  and  sent

him back, all he had to do was avoid the invasion and get away. He could  have

dealt with any problems later, and no one would  have  been  the  wiser."  Jag

shook his head. "You have to feel sorry for the crew of the  Jaunty  Cavalier.

Cundertol sacrificed them all so that no  one  would  contradict  his  story."

"That's the sign of an evil mastermind," Leia said, remembering  her  previous

trip to Bakura and her first encounter with the  spirit  of  her  father.  "No

price is too great to pay to ensure his own survival." Jaina  looked  down  to

Tahiri. The girl hadn't moved throughout the conversation. Her eyes were fixed

on the ceiling, their only movement the  occasional  blink—the  regularity  of

which they could have set a chronometer to. That and the slow rise and fall of

her chest were the only signs that she was alive at all.

"You haven't found his body," Jaina said. It wasn't a question.

Leia replied anyway. "No." There was movement in the doorway. Thinking it

might be a meditech come to examine Tahiri, Leia stepped  aside  to  let  them

through. But it was Goure, the Ryn whom Tahiri had befriended, and  a  Bakuran

native, a Kurtzen dressed in a sand-colored, sleeveless gray robe with a  wide

leather belt around his waist. Numerous pouches adorned the belt, rattling  as

he walked.

"I apologize," the Ryn said, embarrassed. "I  didn't  mean  to  intrude."

"No, please. Come in." Jaina had told Leia the little she'd learned about  the

Ryn from Tahiri. "Han will be along later. I know he'll want to talk to  you."

Goure looked uncertain about this. "Oh?" "He has a friend he hasn't heard from

for a while that he thought you might know of. A Ryn by the  name  of  Droma."

"Droma?" He considered the name for a moment. "It doesn't sound familiar,  I'm

afraid. I could probably find him for you, if you like. The chances  are  good

that one of my colleagues knows him."  "That's  okay,"  Leia  said.  "It's  no

problem. I'm sure he's doing all right, wherever he is. Han was just  curious,

that's all." Goure's manner was pleasant and relaxed, perfectly  likable.  "He

is blessed with the same talent as my husband." Goure's smoky-colored forehead

wrinkled at this "Which is?" "A knack for survival, of  course."  She  matched

his toothy smile, then looked away. The Kurtzen was standing patiently to  one

side, his ridged head gleaming in the harsh hospital light.

"This is Arrizza," Goure said, following her gaze. "I asked him to come."

"It's a pleasure," Leia said as she stepped up to the  Kurtzen.  She  inclined

her head in a slight bow of greeting. "This is my daughter, Lieutenant Colonel

Jaina Solo, and Colonel Jagged Fel." Both nodded, and Arrizza bowed in return.

"But you came to see  Tahiri,  I  presume,  not  us,"  Leia  added,  once  the

introductions were over.

"We came to help her, yes," the Kurtzen  said,  exchanging  a  look  with

Goure.

"Help her in what way?" Jaina asked. "The meditechs and  healers  haven't

been able to do anything for her. What makes you think you can?" "They haven't

been able to help her," Goure interrupted, "because they don't  know  what  is

wrong with her. They are looking for a physical ailment. They won't find  one,

because Tahiri is not fighting a disease.  She  is  fighting  herself."  Jaina

glanced at Leia, then back to Goure. "She told you about her problem?" "I  saw

enough to confirm what I had already heard. Everyone in the Ryn  family  knows

the story of the Jedi-who-was-shaped. We know that  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  Shamed

Ones tell it to each other as an epistle of hope. We also know that it is  not

encouraged outside certain circles of the Galactic Alliance. If word  got  out

that a Jedi had been corrupted by the Yuuzhan Vong shapers — that such a thing

was even possible—the growing support  for  the  Jedi  could  be  dramatically

eroded." There was no point denying anything that  Goure  said.  "It's  true,"

Leia admitted. "Mezhan Kwaad tried to turn Tahiri into a Yuuzhan Vong  warrior

by giving her a new persona—that of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior  called  Riina.  My

son Anakin rescued her and managed to break the programming. We  believed  the

new persona had been erased, but it seems more  likely  now  that  Tahiri  had

simply buried it." "Not 'it,' " said Goure. "Her. Riina of Domain  Kwaad  does

not want to be buried. She wants to live, as does any intelligent being. Until

she's allowed that, she will not lie easily." "She's real?" Jag asked.  "She's

not just a figment of Tahiri's imagination?" The Ryn shook  his  head.  "In  a

manner of speaking, Riina is as real as Tahiri herself. You see, Tahiri wasn't

simply brainwashed to think and act like a Yuuzhan Vong. Mezhan Kwaad designed

Riina to be a person in her  own  right—with  everything  that  entails.  When

Tahiri came back, she had  more  than  just  the  knowledge  of  Yuuzhan  Vong

language and customs in her head; she had the makings of a new personality  in

there with her, wanting control of her body." "But  Tahiri  got  better,"  Jag

said. "She was fine." "Only until Anakin died," Leia pointed out. "Ever  since

then she's been struggling." "But this Riina couldn't just have reappeared for

no reason," Jag argued. "Something must  have  triggered  her  emergence."  "I

agree," Goure said. "And I think that trigger was when the  Galactic  Alliance

recently began making progress against the Yuuzhan  Vong.  Don't  forget  that

when Riina came into being, her people were on the rise. She may have  fallen,

but so had Coruscant; so had the Senate. Her personal loss was overshadowed by

the victories her compatriots were enjoying. Ultimately,  I  don't  think  she

ever expected the Yuuzhan Vong to lose—as they very well might,  now.  In  the

face of defeat, the spirit of the Yuuzhan Vong is fighting back. Unfortunately

for Tahiri, this is taking place within rather than without, as it is for  the

rest of us." "So how do we get rid of her?" Jaina asked, her eyes shining with

tears. Leia knew that  Jaina  felt  responsible  for  Tahiri's  breakdown  and

injuries on Bakura. She had suspected Riina's presence on Galantos, but hadn't

known back then what to do.

"There's only one way to be sure of doing that," Goure said.

"And that is?" Jaina pressed.

The Ryn fixed her with an even and calculating stare. "To kill Tahiri, of

course." "What?" Jaina's voice was cold and angry. "Don't even think of joking

about something like—" "This is  no  joke,  I  assure  you."  The  Ryn's  tail

quivered with repressed energy. "The basic mistake everyone in  this  room  is

making, is assuming Riina to be something that  can  be  simply  excised  from

Tahiri. However, Riina isn't some kind of tumor;  she's  as  much  a  part  of

Tahiri as Tahiri is." Jag shook his head. "I don't understand." The Ryn looked

apologetic. "I'm not entirely sure that I do, either, to be honest," he  said.

"Although I suspect that my species has a greater affinity  for  outcasts  and

refugees than most people, having spent most of our history  being  either  or

both. Since Yavin Four, Tahiri has been set apart from everyone else by virtue

of her experience and her knowledge of the enemy.  Anakin  accepted  her,  but

then he died, leaving her alone. We know that  the  idea  of  family  is  very

strong among the Yuuzhan Vong, so she might have attempted to  attach  herself

to you, Anakin's family. Ultimately, though, it wouldn't have been  enough  to

keep her stable. What she needed, no one could give her, except herself."  The

Ryn came to the side of Tahiri's bed and placed a hand on her forehead. If she

registered his presence, she made no sign.

"The shapers know what they're doing. When they set out  to  turn  Tahiri

into a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, they did exactly that." "But they failed  to  get

rid of Tahiri," Leia said. Goure nodded. "Thanks to Anakin, she  was  able  to

come back—only to find that her mind was now inhabited by  someone  else.  And

that someone had no intention of going  away  quietly,  either.  From  Riina's

point of view, Tahiri is the interloper.  Tahiri  has  done  little  else  but

resist her ever since her reawakening. Unfortunately it's a battle that cannot

be won, and it's taking a terrible toll on her mind." "If it  can't  be  won,"

Jaina said, "then what are you suggesting we do about her?" "Simple," the  Ryn

said, turning to face her. "We have to help them learn to  live  together.  We

must teach them how to become one." Jaina's incredulous laugh came  out  as  a

short, sharp bleat of defiance as she rose to her feet. "I  don't  think  so."

Leia stepped forward to assuage her daughter's anger. "Jaina—" "No, Mom,"  she

said quickly. "Teach Tahiri to accept the Yuuzhan Vong in her? After what they

did to her? After what they did to Anakin!" She  shook  her  head  firmly.  "I

won't let that happen. There has to be another way of removing  Riina  without

harming Tahiri. There has to be." Goure met her  anger  unflinchingly.  "There

isn't," he said soberly when her  outburst  had  abated.  "Just  as  Ba-kurans

cannot integrate the P'w'eck and remain the same as they were before, so, too,

is it with Tahiri and Riina. Moreover, there is a similar urgency. The P'w'eck

and the Bakurans had to work together in order to save  the  planet  from  the

Ssi-ruuk; now Tahiri must work with the personality of  Riina  Kwaad  to  save

herself from madness." Jaina opened her mouth to object, then shut it when her

mother touched her arm. Leia could sympathize with her daughter. The idea that

Tahiri couldn't be cured of the treatments the Yuuzhan Vong had  inflicted  on

her did sound preposterous, but she also knew that everything  they'd  so  far

tried had failed miserably.

"Okay," Jag said, "assuming there is only one option, then how do  we  go

about it, exactly?" The Kurtzen stepped forward. "Like Riina,"  he  said,  "my

people have been cast out and ostracized from the place in which  we  feel  we

belong. It almost killed us, but as have many others in  such  situations,  we

found our own way to survive. We believe that the power of life focuses in the

objects we surround ourselves with. Either inadvertently or intentionally, the

things we gather reinforce who we  are,  making  us  stronger  or,  at  times,

weaker. In a balanced life, the internal  and  external  worlds  reflect  each

other perfectly. When a life is imbalanced, internal and external aspects must

be adjusted accordingly." " That's all well and good," Jag said. "But again  I

have to ask: what do we have to do to help Tahiri?" The Kurtzen native  opened

one of the pouches at his side. Reaching inside, he removed  a  small,  wooden

totem, its carved surface worn back by time. "We Kurtzen focus aspects of  our

lives' energies in items such as these. When our inner self lacks a particular

aspect, we use these objects to bring ourselves into balance. Goure says  that

Tahiri had such an object in her possession. A silver totem that she  produced

at a time of crisis." Leia reached into her robe and produced the pendant that

Tahiri had taken from her and Han's bedroom  that  night,  just  before  she'd

fled.

"Is this what you're looking for?"  She  placed  the  silver  pendant  in

Arrizza's callused hand. The tiny representation of Yun-Yammka  glared  up  at

her, as though vowing vengeance. "Tahiri blacked out when she  found  this  on

Galantos. She blacked out again when I confronted her with it the other  night

in our room. She was  also  holding  it  when  they  brought  her  in  to  the

infirmary." "This is it," Arrizza said. He folded the pendant in one hand  and

closed his eyes.

He seemed to collapse into himself for a moment  then—his  impression  in

the Force changing in a way Leia had never  seen  before.  She  couldn't  help

wonder just what he was doing, or what he was sensing. The pendant belonged to

the Yuuzhan Vong and they were invisible to the Force, so  there  was  no  way

they could have left any impression on the tiny statue.

Unless, of course, the "power of life" the Kurtzen had  referred  to  was

something else entirely.

With the attention of the room upon him, Arrizza stood silently as if  in

a trance. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath  and  clutched

the pendant tightly in his grasp. In  her  life,  Leia  had  experienced  many

strange traditions on many worlds. The Kurtzen's actions weren't surprising or

outlandish, and they were meant well, but she didn't have the  heart  to  tell

him that they weren't likely to help.

Clearly, though, Jaina wasn't so willing to accept the gift in the spirit

it was offered. She kept staring at Tahiri, shaking her head.  As  if  reading

her thoughts, Goure stepped  up  and  placed  a  reassuring  hand  on  Jaina's

shoulder.

"I know how you must feel about this," he said. "But remember, while  the

personality of Riina is undeniably Yuuzhan Vong,  she  doesn't  represent  all

that the Yuuzhan Vong have done these past years. If she  can  be  accused  of

anything, it can only be of trying to survive." "I don't  care,"  Jaina  said.

"She's still Yuuzhan Vong." "But she's a victim in all of this,"  Goure  said.

"Just as Tahiri is." Jaina looked as if she was about to argue this,  but  the

Ryn cut her off. " Tell me, was Tahiri herself when the bomb went off?" "What?

No, Riina had taken her over by then. Why?" "So  it  was  in  fact  Riina  who

created the Force bubble. Riina who saved the lives of  those  in  the  stands

above by staying close in to the bomb  where  she  knew  she  would  have  the

greatest effect." The Ryn's stare  was  piercing,  and  beneath  it  Leia  saw

Jaina's stubbornness flag slightly. "Is that the work of someone who  deserves

our contempt? Someone who deserves to be put down?"  Jaina  looked  away  from

Goure, back to Tahiri's motionless body. "So what are we supposed to  do?  Sit

back and let Riina take her over?" "We have a choice to make.  We  can  either

help  both  of  them,  or  we  can  watch  them  both  die."  Leia  felt   the

responsibility Goure was giving them like a heavy weight around her  neck.  He

was asking them to do something potentially very  dangerous.  She  knew  about

Anakin's vision of Riina as a dark force sweeping across the galaxy;  and  she

also knew that the vision could well come to pass if Riina was released,  with

all Tahiri's knowledge of the Jedi to back her up. Cilghal had once  described

one of the Yuuzhan Vong's other hybrid creations—the voxyn—as  "part  of  this

galaxy and part of the Yuuzhan Vong's." If Goure was right, Tahiri would  have

to achieve the same state in order to survive, and there was no guarantee that

she wouldn't end up as murderous and vicious as those creatures.

But in the end, Leia had to have faith in Tahiri's strength  and  resolve

not to allow Anakin's vision to come to fruition.

Arrizza's silent mumbling ceased, and he opened his eyes.  Goure  stepped

aside as the Kurtzen approached Tahiri's bed. No one spoke as Arrizza held the

silver pendant with one hand and rested the other on  Tahiri's  forehead.  His

lips moved soundlessly. There was no  response  from  Tahiri  as  the  Kurtzen

gently placed the pendant on her chest.

"Are you  sure  we  should  leave  that  there?"  Jaina  asked  a  little

anxiously.

Arrizza nodded. "It is traditional. It will help cleanse her spiritually.

" With that, Arrizza bowed reverently over her, holding  the  moment  with  an

indrawn breath, then finally exhaling and backing away.

The sound of boots clomping along the corridor outside broke  the  sudden

quiet of the room. Leia turned to see Han walk into the room, a look  of  some

urgency on his face.

"We've just received word from  Luke,"  he  said,  stepping  up  to  Leia

without acknowledging the others  in  the  room.  "He  says..."  Han  stopped,

looking around the room, noting for the first  time  the  people  gathered  by

Tahiri's bed. "What's going  on?"  Leia  was  about  to  explain  the  healing

ceremony that Arrizza was trying to perform, but decided against it before she

started. She didn't particularly feel like listening to her husband's  cynical

sounds-like-mumbo-jumbo-to-me speech.

"I'll explain later," she said instead, taking his hand in hers.

Han accepted this with a nod. "I heard the Ryn was here.Where'd  he  go?"

"He's right—" It was her turn to leave a sentence unfinished. "Well, he  was."

"My friend had no intention of staying any longer than he was needed," Arrizza

said, stepping forward. "Before we arrived, however, he did ask  that  I  give

you this." The Kurtzen handed a sheet of flimsiplast to Leia. She unfolded  it

and read, with her husband reading it also over her shoulder.

My apologies for leaving so abruptly. I received word this morning that I

am required elsewhere. Part of my instructions was to advise you to travel  to

Onadax at your earliest convenience. You will be met there.

When she awakens, please extend my heartfelt thanks to Tahiri for all she

has done here.

With gratitude, Goure.

"I am sorry," the Kurtzen said.

"Don't be," Han said. "It's not your fault. I was just hoping to ask  him

about Droma." He took the note from Leia and scanned it again. "We'll  be  met

there," he paraphrased. "Does he mean by another  Ryn,  by  the  head  of  the

family, or by someone else altogether?" "It's not  really  made  clear,"  Leia

said. Despite—or because of—that, her interest was definitely piqued.

"Isn't Onadax in the Minos Cluster?" Jaina asked.

Leia nodded. "It's not all that far from Bakura." Han looked concerned.

"What's wrong, Dad?" "Well, it's not exactly the best  of  places  to  be

visiting. It's a tough place, filled with all manner of lowlifes. I just don't

want anyone getting their expectations up that this trip will be some sort  of

romantic holiday or something." "Han, we had our first kiss in the belly of  a

space slug," Leia said. "Believe me when I say that my expectations  of  doing

anything remotely romantic with you have never been  particularly  high."  She

smiled at her husband, and was glad to see him lose his somberness  and  smile

back. Then, placing an arm about her shoulder, he  made  to  leave  with  her.

"Come on, Your Worshipfulness," he said wryly.  "You  need  to  talk  to  Luke

before he goes off to call Ben." "Wait." She turned to  Arrizza.  "What  about

Tahiri?" The Kurtzen shrugged again. "I do not know how long it will take  for

her to heal. It might be one hour; it might be a year. She might never heal at

all. I'm sorry that I cannot give you a definite answer. All  you  can  do  is

wait and see." Leia looked at the girl on the bed once more. She hadn't  moved

the entire time they'd been in the room. No, wait—that wasn't quite true, Leia

realized. She had changed: the young Jedi's eyes were now  closed,  as  though

she was sleeping. What that meant, exactly, Leia didn't know,  but  she  hoped

that it was a positive sign, at least.

Dream well, Tahiri, she sent into the quiet dark that was Tahiri's  mind.

Dream well and come back strong.

The small shuttle rattled out of hyperspace just on  the  border  of  the

Ssi-ruuvi Imperium. Its holds were almost empty, as was its  flight  deck.  In

total, it carried eight passengers. Only one of them was alive.

Cundertol watched from the commander's station as the shuttle performed a

cursory sweep of the space around it. He had  changed  its  original  settings

shortly after leaving Bakura, immediately upon assuming control of  the  ship.

This was a destination he had visited just once before.  The  event  that  had

quite literally changed his life had taken place not  far  away,  in  a  small

research base left behind by the New Republic during  its  extended  offensive

against the Imperium. Abandoned for many years, it had been easy pickings  for

someone looking for a secret operations center.

The shuttle's scan picked up  the  station  and  a  modified  Fw'Sen-dass

picket ship parked nearby. He set the shuttle on an intercept vector  for  the

latter, broadcasting a preplanned signal.

A response came within seconds. The picket ship extended docking grapnels

and, once they were near enough, mated the two  vessels  together.  A  booming

clang resounded through the ship around him, announcing contact.

Grunting in satisfaction, Cundertol climbed from  the  commander's  chair

and headed for the air lock, stepping over the bodies of the P'w'eck  crew  as

he went. The stump of his severed arm had healed  over  perfectly,  leaving  a

smooth patch of skin that was barely tender to the touch.

"I have been waiting," said the Ssi-ruuvi  general  whom  Cundertol  knew

only as E'thinaa. His words came in the Ssi-ruuvi language, which  the  makers

of Cundertol's body had preprogrammed him to understand.

"I came as soon as I could." Cundertol executed the smallest bow he could

deliver without seriously offending the general. There were no guards  in  the

bare stateroom, but he didn't doubt that he was being watched. "There  were...

complications." The thick black ridge that was E'thinaa's eyebrows  lifted  in

disapproval. "The Keeramak?"  "Is  dead,"  Cundertol  reported  instantly  and

without emotion. "I have its body onboard the shuttle  as  proof."  He  didn't

mention that the shuttle had originally been intended to deliver the  body  to

Lwhekk as a placatory gesture, or that he'd been forced to stow  away  on  the

craft in order to redirect it—and to survive.

The general nodded his approval, his scent-tongues tasting the  air.  "As

long as this objective has been achieved, then everything else is unimportant.

" "I must admit that I don't understand why you wanted this, above all  else,"

Cundertol said. "Your people regard the Keeramak as some sort of  god.  Surely

killing it will cause chaos and civil war—more disruption  than  the  Imperium

can possibly withstand. You've spent so long rebuilding  things.  Why  destroy

them now?" The general's massive tail thumped the ground once, as if demanding

silence. "You are not required to understand anything,  human.  You  stink  of

lies." Cundertol nodded, averting his gaze  from  the  general's  stare.  He'd

heard too many stories about the persuasive powers of  the  Ssi-ruuk  to  risk

being caught now. His HRD body might be physically  strong,  but  it  couldn't

protect him against the many traps that might befall his mind.

But...

His mind tripped on the general's words. How could E'thinaa have detected

the scent of deception when the tissue comprising the outer layers of his  new

body had been specifically designed to release scents identical to a  natural,

nonstressed human, no matter what his state of mind or what  lay  beneath  the

facade? The general had to be bluffing, he told himself dismissively.

It wasn't,  however,  so  easy  to  shake  himself  free  of  his  sudden

suspicions. The Ssi-ruuk didn't often bluff, after all. They were usually more

direct in their approaches to and manipulations of what they  regarded  to  be

"lesser" species.

And now that he thought about it, the superior olfactory  senses  of  his

new body were picking up something odd about the Ssi-ruu...

He suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable, wanting to leave there as soon

as possible. Something wasn't quite right, and he didn't like it one bit.

"I've met my side of the bargain," he said, glad that he had retained his

sabacc face, after the transfer. "Now, how about  you?"  "You  have  your  new

body. What more do you want?" "You know what I want.  You  said  you'd  refund

half the money I paid for this body if I delivered you Bakura. I've done that,

so now I'd like what you promised me." The general began to pace the room with

clicking strides, his tail sweeping menacingly. "It is my  understanding  that

Xwhee is no longer part of the Imperium." "It has been consecrated—" "And  the

P'w'eck traitors have taken it for their own, no?" "Yes, and you can fight for

it now. You can send troops without fearing for their souls—" The general  cut

him off with a chopping gesture of one mighty arm.  "You  have  not  delivered

your side of the bargain, yet you expect me to keep mine!" he roared close  to

Cundertol's face, spraying him  with  spittle.  Cundertol  flinched,  and  the

general straightened. "I am disappointed, but I can't say that I'm  surprised.

Your species is not known for its honor." Cundertol  could  feel  his  control

over the situation quickly slipping away. "Listen,  we're  both  doing  a  job

here, and as you know, sometimes it's not possible to meet every  expectation.

I've taken you halfway there—" "As we have taken  you  halfway,"  the  general

interrupted. "You have your new body; you have your bottled soul. Surely  that

is enough." And  maybe  it  was,  Cundertol  thought.  With  his  mind  safely

ensconced in its new HRD home, he was free from aging and disease.  He  really

could live forever, if he was careful. With the right contacts, he  could  get

his arm fixed, establish a new  power  base  somewhere  else,  begin  building

himself up to where he had been. There were thousands of  opportunities  in  a

galaxy this large. All he had to do was — Cundertol stopped the thought in its

tracks. What was the point of dreams without money to bring them into reality?

Without money, he would never be able to replace his missing limb or  buy  new

contacts; he wouldn't even be able to refuel the shuttle after its next  stop.

There was no point being immortal if you couldn't do anything — or  worse,  if

you ended up drifting through space, heading nowhere.

"I'm not leaving here without the payment I deserve," he said slowly  and

firmly, staring the big lizard right in the eyes.

"No?" The general squared off and flexed his powerful muscles. "Would you

combat me for it?" Cundertol felt the strength coursing through his artificial

body. What were flesh and blood against poly-alloy bones and enhanced biofiber

muscles? If he could outfight a Jedi, then a  Ssi-ruu  should  be  no  trouble

whatsoever.

Cundertol nodded. "I will," he said, "and I will crush you as I would  an

insect." The general laughed. "The hatchmate returns to destroy  his  mother!"

"I'm serious," Cundertol clenched and unclenched his fists with a mix of anger

and nervousness. "Give me  my  money."  The  general  took  up  the  challenge

unflinchingly as he stepped forward, pinning Cundertol with  his  stare.  With

lethal deliberation, he said: "The only thing you shall get from me is death."

Cundertol braced himself for the fight, and suddenly found that he was  unable

to move. He was rooted to the spot, every muscle of his body rigid  as  though

he were nothing more than a statue. He couldn't move his  eyes,  his  mouth—he

couldn't even breathe! And then, in  mid-stroke,  the  beating  of  his  heart

stopped.

The general's leering visage came so close that he could feel the alien's

breath on his face. Twin scent-tongues tasted him, licking at the fear  surely

emanating from his synthflesh.

"You are a fool, human," E'thinaa said. The general's breath  stank,  but

Cundertol couldn't turn away from it. "Did you honestly think that we wouldn't

be ready for you? Do you believe us to be so stupid? We have learned  much  of

your vile machines since coming to your galaxy. We know how to encourage  your

filthy technologists to perform  for  us,  to  build  restraining  bolts  that

activate on hearing a particular phrase. We are perfectly capable of  stealing

that which we require to reach our goals—goals you helped us attain. You sowed

chaos; now we shall reap the rewards." Cundertol yearned to pull away...

Since coming to your galaxy...

Panic flooded through him.

The alien's hideous face seemed to melt and peel  away.  The  long  snout

folded back and rolled down the long neck, taking the triple-lidded  eyes  and

scent-tongues with them.

Beneath lay a face more horrible than any Cundertol had ever imagined.  A

long, sloping forehead swept down to two gaunt, tattooed cheeks. Purple  sacks

bulged under cold, black eyes. Deep scars  carved  the  gray  flesh  like  the

cracks of an ice moon, and sharp teeth grinned  at  him  as  he  realized  his

mistake.

"You are nothing to me," hissed the voice of the impersonator.  "Perhaps,

had you remained alive, we might have taken you as a slave or a sacrifice; but

as you are, you are worthless, unliving filth. We have destroyed  the  machine

that made you and purified the hands that touched  it  with  the  blood  of  a

thousand captives. We would never deign to deal with dead stuff  such  as  you

are now made of. Life is tissue; it  is  soil;  it  is  blood."  The  creature

paused, then, and smiled. "It is death." The face that would be the last thing

Cundertol ever saw pulled back out of range. So profoundly was  he  frozen  by

the restraining bolt, he couldn't even focus his  eyes.  Everything  beyond  a

meter remained a blur—a blur that filled with dark shadows as more of the vile

creatures entered the room. They swarmed around him, twisting and writhing  in

impossible shapes.

The only thing you shall get from me is death.  So  E'thinaa—or  whatever

the alien's real  name  was—had  said,  and  with  those  words  he  had  been

condemned. The last thing  Cundertol  felt  was  the  powerful  sting  of  am-

phistaffs striking him and tearing his  artificial  body  apart.  He  couldn't

move, but the aliens had ensured that he could still feel pain. The agony  was

blinding, too much to truly comprehend.

When Cundertol's containment fields finally dissolved and his  mind  fell

away, it came as pure relief.

In the end, there was just one.

Klasse Ephemora was an  isolated  system  on  the  side  of  Chiss  space

opposite the galactic Core. Named after the explorer who had first charted the

system, centuries ago, it had once housed a small gem-mining operation  around

its one gas giant, a bloated monster hovering just inside the star's habitable

zone. Severe atmospheric disturbances had prevented the gem station from  ever

being profitable, however, so it had been abandoned more than  fifty  standard

years earlier. Klasse Ephemora had lain fallow ever since: lacking terrestrial

worlds  that  might  have  encouraged  colonization;  too  remote  to  warrant

commercial interest, and yet too far away from the  Chiss  border  to  justify

even a token military presence. Every few decades, an  automated  probe  would

sweep through the system to update astronomical charts  and  ensure  that  the

navigational anchor points left behind by the initial survey were still  true.

Beyond that, it was completely ignored.

And so it might have remained forever, had not the  last  probe  to  pass

through some twenty-five years earlier happened to  note  that  the  sole  gas

giant in the system, Mobus, had  acquired  a  new  satellite.  This  satellite

joined a family of seventeen other satellites around Mobus, but exceeded their

combined mass more than ten times over. A world  in  its  own  right,  it  was

shrouded in clouds that prevented a visual survey as the probe  flew  by.  The

presence of water vapor might have warranted further  investigation,  but  the

probe was not programmed to change course for something so nebulous. Had there

been clear signs of intelligent life on the moon-world, the probe  might  have

braked into an orbit around Klasse A and observed the new moon in more detail,

then reported the findings back to its superiors in the CEDE  But  the  planet

emitted nothing on the subspace channels, nor were there any transmissions  on

the electromagnetic spectrum. So the probe simply noted the moon's appearance,

then continued on its way.

The  fact  of  the  moon's  existence  had  languished   in   the   Chiss

Expeditionary Library ever since, filed with all the myriad other reports from

thousands of identical probes. As rare as the orbital capture was,  it  wasn't

startling enough to attract the attention of the astronomers who  studied  the

data on the probe's return. There were countless more interesting  discoveries

waiting in the Unknown Regions. So what if an  abandoned  system  acquired  an

extra moon or two?

Jacen stared at the pictures of the moon brought back by the probe with a

feeling bordering on profound awe.

He saw a gray orb lit by the baleful light of a  boiling  red-yellow  gas

giant. The atmosphere soaked up infrared, but radar  showed  a  hilly  terrain

around the equator, with several small flat spots that could  have  been  seas

scattered evenly  across  both  hemispheres.  There  was  evidence  of  recent

eruptions and crust movement, as would  be  expected  for  a  world  that  had

endured capture not just by a sun, but also by a gas giant.

"That's it," he breathed, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.  "That's

Zonama Sekot." "The charts list it as M-Eighteen," Wyn said.

"It's Zonama Sekot," Jacen repeated. "It has to be. What did you say  the

odds were, Danni?" "Very much against something like this happening naturally,

Jacen," she said. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't  happen."  "I  know,"  he

replied easily. "But it didn't." R2-D2 whistled cheerfully, as though  backing

him up.

"We should at least check it out," Mara said.

"We will," Luke agreed. "After all, it's the best lead we've had so far."

"If there's anything we can do to assist you," Soontir Fel said, "consider  it

done." He hesitated for barely a second  before  adding,  "Within  reason,  of

course." Those weren't empty words. The Chiss had  already  provided  detailed

tactical maps of the Unknown Regions, revealing several torturous trade  lanes

through areas that previously had been thought impassible.  More  sinis-terly,

the data showed that the Yuuzhan Vong had been more active in  the  area  than

Galactic Alliance intelligence had known. As far back as the first attacks  on

New Republic systems, a Yuuzhan Vong task force had made  an  end  run  around

Chiss space and made it into the Unknown Regions. That it had never been heard

of since—or that no other task force had made it past the Chiss—was  no  cause

for complacency. Further Chiss assistance might well  prove  welcome  at  some

point.

Luke smiled genially. "Thank you," he said. "And I promise not to mention

a treaty with the Galactic Alliance until the next time we pass through here."

"If there is a next time," Mara said.

Jacen nodded, thinking  of  the  attack  on  the  Imperial  Remnant,  the

Krizlaws on Munlali Mafir, and Chief Navigator Aabe; and then, of course,  the

Yuuzhan Vong themselves, whose incursions into Chiss space were becoming  more

frequent every day.

It's been hard enough getting this far, he thought. I doubt it's going to

get any easier.

He felt Danni's support and confidence nearby, and was warmed by  it.  At

least, he added, there was no shortage of support—for  him  and  the  Galactic

Federation of Free Alliances. All they had to  do  was  follow  their  hearts,

letting the Force guide their decisions, and eventually, he was  sure,  they'd

get there.

What they would find when they arrived, however, remained to be seen...