THE NEW JEDI  ORDER

A Del ReyR Book Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group

Copyright c 2002 by Lucasfilm Ltd. &  or T where indicated.

All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American

Copyright Conventions.

Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing

Group, a division

of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in

Canada by

Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon

is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

www.starwars.com www.starwarskids.com www.delreydigital.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Williams,

Walter Jon.

Destiny's way / Walter Jon Williams.- 1st ed.

p. cm. - (Star wars, The new Jedi order) ISBN 0-345-42850-1

1. Life on other planets-Fiction.    I. Tide.    II. Series.

PS3573.I456213 D47 2002

813'.54-dc21

2002073780

Jacket illustration by Cliff Nielsen Manufactured in the

United States of America

First Edition: October 2002 10    987654321

For Kathleen Hedges

And with thanks to so many who helped: Daniel Abraham, Terry

Boren, George R.R. Martin, Shelly Shapiro, Steve and Jan

Stirling, Sue Rostoni, Sally Gwylan, Melinda Snodgrass,

Terry England, Yvonne Coats, and Trent Zelazny. And special

thanks to Spenser Ruppert for his encyclopedic knowledge of

the Star Wars universe.

Other books by Walter Jon Williams

Novels:

Ambassador of Progress

Knight Moves

Hardwired

Voice of the Whirlwind

Angel Station

Elegy for Angels and Dogs

Days of Atonement

Aristoi

Metropolitan

City on Fire

The Rift

Divertimenti:

The Crown Jewels

House of Shards

Rock of Ages

Collections:

Facets Frankensteins and Foreign Devils

Coming soon: The Praxis

Dramatis Personae

Admiral Ackbar; retired military officer (male Mon Calamari)

Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Kyp Durron; Jedi Master (male human)

Jakan; high priest (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Traest Kre'fey; military officer (male Bothan)

Tsavong Lah; warmaster (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Lowbacca; Jedi Knight (male Wookiee)

Ayddar Nylykerka; director of intelligence (male Tammarian)

Omas, Cal; politician (male Alderaanian human)

Onimi; Shamed One (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Danni Quee; scientist (female human)

Fyor Rodan; politician (male human)

Dif Scaur; director of intelligence (male human)

Supreme Overlord Shimrra (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

Mara Jade Skywalker; Jedi Master (female human)

Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

Princess Leia Organa Solo; diplomat (female human)

Sien Sow; military officer (male Sullustan)

Tahiri Veila; Jedi Knight (human female)

Vergere (female Fosh)

Nen Yim; shaper (female Yuuzhan Vong)

They  appeared  without  warning from  beyond  the  edge  of

galactic  space:  a  warrior race called the  Yuuzhan  Vong,

armed  with  surprise,  treachery,  and  a  bizarre  organic

technology  that  proved a match-  too  often  more  than  a

match-for  the New Republic and its allies. Even  the  Jedi,

under  the  leadership of Luke Skywalker,  found  themselves

thrown   on  the  defensive,  deprived  of  their   greatest

strength. For somehow, inexplicably, the Yuuzhan Vong seemed

to be utterly devoid of the Force.

Despite  an  initial victory, the New Republic  forces  lost

more  than  they  won.  Countless  worlds  were  devastated,

countless  beings  killed-among them the Wookiee  Chewbacca,

loyal friend and partner of Han Solo, and later Anakin Solo,

Han  and  Leia's younger son. The only ray of light  in  the

darkness  was  the  birth  of  Luke  and  Mara's  son,   Ben

Skywalker.

The  New Republic unraveled a little more with each setback.

Even the Jedi began to splinter under the strain, especially

as  the Yuuzhan Vong turned their attention to hunting  down

Jedi  in  particular.  The  fall of  the  capital  world  of

Coruscant,  and  the  capture  of  Jacen  Solo  sent   hopes

plummeting-and  sent  Jacen's twin  sister  Jaina  spiraling

downward into revenge and retribution.

Scattered  after  the fall of Coruscant, the  panic-stricken

surviving  members  of  the  New Republic  Advisory  Council

struggled  to save themselves, pausing only long  enough  to

set  up what was intended to be a mock defense on the planet

Borleias-an attempt to buy time that fooled no one, least of

all  the Jedi. Under the command of Wedge Antilles and  Luke

Skywalker, the Borleias defense succeeded against all  odds,

a victory-if a small one-at last for the New Republic.

Meanwhile, the missing Jacen Solo was undergoing  the  educa

tion  of  a  lifetime at the hands of Vergere, a fascinating

creature  whose  loyalties were a mystery and  whose  powers

were beyond compare. In doing so, he discovered the key both

to  sabotaging the efforts of the enemy to reshape Coruscant

into  the  image of their legendary homeworld,  Yuuzhan'tar,

and  to finding the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force. Now, at last,

as  the  tattered New Republic works to build on its  recent

victory  and  readies itself to strike back at  the  Yuuzhan

Vong, a changed Jacen is on his way home . . .

Chapter 1

As  she  sat  in the chair that was hers by  right  of

death,  she  raised  her  eyes to the  cold  faraway  stars.

Checklists buzzed distantly in her mind and her hands  moved

over the controls, but her thoughts flew elsewhere, amid the

chill infinitude. Searching . . .

Nothing.

Her gaze fell and there she saw, on the controls at the

adjacent pilot's seat, her husband's hands. She drew comfort

from  the  sight, from the sureness and power she  knew  was

there, in those strong hands.

Her  heart  leapt. Something, somewhere in  all  those

stars, had touched her.

She thought: Jacen!

Her  husband's hands touched controls  and  the  stars

streamed away, turned to bleeding smears of light as if seen

through beaten rain, and the distant touch vanished.

"Jacen," she said, and then, at her husband's startled

look, at the surprise and pain in his brown eyes, "Jacen."

"And you're sure?" Han Solo said. "You're sure it  was

Jacen?"

"Yes.  Reaching out to me. I felt him. It  could  have

been no one else."

"And he's alive."

"Yes."

Leia Organa Solo could read him so well. She knew that

Han  believed  their son dead, but that he  tried,  for  her

sake, to pretend otherwise. She knew that, fierce with grief

and  with  guilt  for having withdrawn from his  family,  he

would  support her in anything now, even if he  believed  it

was delusional. And she knew the strength it took for him to

suppress his own pain and doubt.

She could read all that in him, in the flicker of  his

eye,  the twitch of his cheek. She could read him, read  the

bravery and the uncertainty, and she loved him for both.

"It was Jacen," she said. She put as much confidence in

her  tone  as she could, all her assurance. "He was reaching

out  to me through the Force. I felt him. He wanted to  tell

me he was alive and with friends." She reached over and took

his hand. "There's no doubt, now. Not at all."

Han's  fingers tightened on hers, and she  sensed  the

struggle in him, desire for hope warring with his own bitter

experience.

His brown eyes softened. "Yes," he said. "Of course. I

believe you."

There was a hint of reserve there, of caution, but that

was reflex, the result of a long and uncertain life that had

taught  him to believe nothing until he'd seen it  with  his

own eyes.

Leia reached for him, embraced him awkwardly from  the

copilot's  seat.  His arms went around  her.  She  felt  the

bristle of his cheek against hers, inhaled the scent of  his

body, his hair.

A  bubble of happiness grew in her, burst into speech.

"Yes,  Han," she said. "Our son is alive. And so are we.  Be

joyful. Be at peace. Everything changes from now on."

The idyll lasted until Han and Leia walked hand in hand

into  the Millennium Falcon's main hold. Through the  touch,

Leia felt the slight tension of Han's muscles as he came  in

sight  of  their guest-an Imperial commander  in  immaculate

dress grays.

Han,  Leia  knew,  had hoped that this  mission  would

provide  a  chance for the two of them to be alone.  Through

the  many  months  since the war with the Yuuzhan  Vong  had

begun,  they  had  either  been  apart  or  dealing  with  a

bewildering succession of crises. Even though their  current

mission was no less urgent than the others, they would  have

treasured this time alone in hyperspace.

They  had  even left Leia's Noghri bodyguards  behind.

Neither of them had wanted any passengers at all, let  alone

an  Imperial officer. Thus far Han had managed to  be  civil

about it, but only just.

The   commander  rose  politely  to  her  feet.   "An

exceptionally  smooth  transition into  hyperspace,  Captain

Solo,"  she  said. "For a ship with such-such  heterogeneous

components,  such  a transition speaks well  of  the  ship's

captain and his skills."

"Thanks," Han said.

"The  Myomar  shields are superb, are they  not?"  she

said. "One of our finer designs."

The  problem with Commander Vana Dorja, Leia  thought,

was  that  she was simply too observant. She was a woman  of

about  thirty,  the  daughter  of  the  captain  of  a  Star

Destroyer,  with  bobbed dark hair tucked  neatly  into  her

uniform  cap, and the bland, pleasant face of a professional

diplomat.  She  had  been  on  Coruscant  during  its  fall,

allegedly  negotiating  some  kind  of  commercial   treaty,

purchasing   Ulban  droid  brains  for   use   in   Imperial

hydroponics farms. The negotiations were complicated by  the

fact that the droid brains in question could equally well be

used for military purposes.

The   negotiations  regarding  the  brains'   end-use

certificates  had  gone nowhere in particular,  but  perhaps

they had been intended to go nowhere. What Commander Dorja's

extended stay on Coruscant had done was to make her a  close

observer  in  the Yuuzhan Vong assault that had resulted  in

the planet's fall.

Vana Dorja had gotten off Coruscant somehow-Leia had no

doubt  that  her escape had been planned long in advance-and

she  had then turned up at Mon Calamari, the new provisional

capital,  blandly asking for help in returning  to  Imperial

space  just at the moment at which Leia had been assigned  a

diplomatic mission to that selfsame Empire.

Of course it wasn't a coincidence. Dorja was clearly a

spy  operating under commercial cover. But what  could  Leia

do?  The New Republic might need the help of the Empire, and

the   Empire   might   be   offended   if   its   commercial

representative were needlessly delayed in her return.

What  Leia  could do was establish some  ground  rules

concerning where on the Falcon Commander Dorja could go, and

where  was strictly off limits. Dorja had agreed immediately

to  the  restrictions, and agreed as well to be scanned  for

any  technological or other secrets she might  be  smuggling

out.

Nothing had turned up on the scan. Of course. If  Vana

Dorja  was carrying any vital secrets to her masters in  the

Empire,  she  was  carrying  them  locked  in  her  all-too-

inquisitive brain.

"Please sit down," Leia said.

"Your  Highness is kind," Dorja said, and lowered  her

stocky  body  into a chair. Leia sat across the  table  from

her,  and  observed the half-empty glass of juri  juice  set

before the commander.

"Threepio  is providing sufficient refreshment?"  Leia

asked.

"Yes. He is very efficient, though a trifle talkative."

Talkative'? Leia thought. What's Threepio been telling

the woman'?

Blast it anyway. Dorja was all too skilled at creating

these unsettling moments.

"Shall we dine?" Leia asked.

Dorja  nodded,  bland  as always.  "As  Your  Highness

wishes."

But then she proved useful in the galley, assisting Han

and  Leia  as they transferred to plates the meal  that  had

been  cooking in the Falcon's automatic ovens.  As  Han  sat

down with his plates, C-3PO contemplated the table.

"Sir," he said. "A Princess and former Chief of  State

takes  precedence, of course, over both  a  captain  and  an

Imperial commander. But a commander-forgive me-does not take

precedence  over  a New Republic general, even  one  on  the

inactive list. General Solo, if you would be so kind  as  to

sit above Commander Dorja?"

Han gave C-3PO a baleful look. "I like it fine where I

am,"  he  said. Which was, of course, as far away  from  the

Imperial commander as the small table permitted.

C-3PO  looked as distressed as it was possible  for  a

droid  with an immobile face to look. "But sir-the rules  of

precedence-"

"I like it where I am," Han said, more firmly.

"But sir-"

Leia slid into her accustomed role as Han's interpreter

to  the  world. "We'll dine informally, Threepio," she  told

the droid.

C-3PO's tone allowed his disappointment to show. "Very

well, Your Highness," he said.

Poor  3PO,  Leia  thought. Here he  was  designed  for

working  out rules of protocol for state banquets  involving

dozens  of species and hundreds of governments, interpreting

and smoothing disputes, and instead she persisted in getting

him  into situations where he kept getting shot at. And  now

the  galaxy  was being invaded by beings who had marked  for

extermination  every  droid  in  existence-and   they   were

winning. Whatever C-3PO had for nerves must be shot.

Lots of formal dinner parties when this is over,  Leia

decided.  Nice, soothing dinner parties, without  assassins,

quarrels, or light-saberfights.

"I  thank you again for your offer of transit  to  the

Empire,"  Dorja said later, after the soup course.  "It  was

fortunate that you have business there."

"Very fortunate," Leia agreed.

"Your  mission to the Empire must be critical,"  Dorja

probed,  "to take you from the government at such a  crucial

time."

"I'm doing what I do best."

"But  you  were  Chief  of State-surely  you  must  be

considering a return to power."

Leia shook her head. "I served my term."

"To  voluntarily relinquish power-I  confess  I  don't

understand it." Dorja shook her head. "In the Empire, we are

taught  not  to decline responsibility once it is  given  to

us."

Leia sensed Han's head lifting as he prepared to speak.

She  knew  him  well enough to anticipate the sense  of  any

remarks.  No, he would say, Imperial leaders generally  stay

in  their seats of power until they're blasted out by  laser

cannons.  Before  Han  could  speak,  she  phrased  a   more

diplomatic answer.

"Wisdom is knowing when you've given all you can," she

said,  and  turned her attention to her dinner,  a  fragrant

breast of hibbas with a sauce of bofa fruit. Dorja picked up

her  fork,  held  it  over her plate. "But  surely-with  the

government in chaos, and driven into exile-a strong hand  is

needed."

"We  have  constitutional means  for  choosing  a  new

leader,"  Leia  reassured.  And thought,  Not  that  they're

working so far, with Pwoe proclaiming himself Chief of State

with the Senate deadlocked on Mon Calamari.

"I wish you a smooth transition," Commander Dorja said.

"Let's  hope  the hesitation and chaos with  which  the  New

Republic  has met its current crisis was the fault of  Borsk

Fey'lya's  government,  and  not  symptomatic  of  the   New

Republic as a whole."

"I'll drink to that," Han proclaimed, and drained  his

glass.

"I can't help but wonder how the old Empire would have

handled  the  crisis," Dorja continued.  "I  hope  you  will

forgive  my partisan attitude, but it seems to me  that  the

Emperor  would  have mobilized his entire  armament  at  the

first  threat,  and  dealt  with  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  in  an

efficient  and  expeditious  manner,  through  the  use   of

overwhelming  force. Certainly better than  Borsk  Fey'lya's

policy-if   I   understood  it  correctly  as  a   policy-of

negotiating  with the invaders at the same time  as  he  was

fighting  them, sending signals of weakness  to  a  ruthless

enemy  who  used  negotiation only as a  cover  for  further

conquests."

It was growing very hard, Leia thought, to maintain the

diplomatic smile on her face. "The Emperor," she said,  "was

always alert to any threat to his power."

Leia sensed Han about to speak, and this time was  too

late to stop his words.

"That's   not  what  the  Empire  would  have   done,

Commander," Han said. "What the Empire would have  done  was

build  a super-colossal Yuuzhan Vong-killing battle machine.

They  would  have called it the Nova Colossus or the  Galaxy

Destructor or the Nostril of Palpatine or something  equally

grandiose.  They  would  have  spent  billions  of  credits,

employed  thousands  of contractors and subcontractors,  and

equipped it with the latest in death-dealing technology. And

you  know what would have happened? It wouldn't have worked.

They'd  forget  to bolt down a metal plate  over  an  access

hatch  leading to the main reactors, or some other  mistake,

and  a hotshot enemy pilot would drop a bomb down there  and

blow  the  whole thing up. Now that's what the Empire  would

have done."

Leia, striving to contain her laughter, detected  what

might have been amusement in Vana Dorja's brown eyes.

"Perhaps you're right," Dorja conceded.

"You're  right I'm right, Commander,"  Han  said,  and

poured himself a glass of water.

His  brief triumph was interrupted by a sudden  shriek

from  the  Falcon's  hyperdrive units. The  ship  shuddered.

Proximity alarms wailed.

Leia,  her  heart beating in synchrony to the  blaring

alarms, stared into Han's startled brown eyes. Han turned to

Commander Dorja.

"Sorry  to  interrupt dinner just as  it  was  getting

interesting.," he said, "but I'm afraid we've  got  to  blow

some bad guys into small pieces."

The first thing Han Solo did when he scrambled into the

pilot's  seat was to shut off the blaring alarms  that  were

rattling  his brain around inside his skull. Then he  looked

out the cockpit windows. The stars, he saw, had returned  to

their  normal configuration-the Millennium Falcon  had  been

yanked  out of hyperspace. And Han had a good idea  why,  an

idea  that  a glance at the sensor displays served  only  to

confirm.  He  turned  to  Leia as  she  scrambled  into  the

copilot's chair.

"Either a black hole has materialized in this  sector,

or  we've  hit  a Yuuzhan Vong mine." A dovin  basal  to  be

precise,  an  organic gravitic-anomaly  generator  that  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  used  for both propelling their  vessels  and

warping space around them. The Yuuzhan Vong had been seeding

dovin  basal mines along New Republic trade routes in  order

to  drag unsuspecting transports out of hyperspace and  into

an ambush. But their mining efforts hadn't extended this far

along the Hydian Way, at least not until now.

And there, Han saw in the displays, were the ambushers.

Two  nights  of  six coralskippers each, one  positioned  on

either  side  of the dovin basal in order to  intercept  any

unsuspecting transport.

He reached for the controls, then hesitated, wondering

if Leia should pilot while he ran for the turbolaser turret.

No,   he  thought,  he  knew  the  Millennium  Falcon,   her

capabilities, and her crotchets better than anyone, and good

piloting was going to get them out of this trouble more than

good shooting.

"I'd  better fly this one," he said. "You take one  of

the  quad lasers." Regretting, as he spoke, that he wouldn't

get  to blow things up, something always good for taking his

mind off his troubles.

Leia bent to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good

luck, Slick," she whispered, then squeezed his shoulder  and

slid silently out of the cockpit.

"Good  luck yourself," Han said. "And find out if  our

guest is qualified to take the other turret."

His  eyes  were  already scanning the displays  as  he

automatically  donned the comlink headset that  would  allow

him   to   communicate  with  Leia  at  the  laser   cannon.

Coralskippers  weren't hyperspace capable,  so  some  larger

craft  had  to have dropped them here. Was that  ship  still

around,  or  had  it moved on to lay another mine  somewhere

else?

It had gone, apparently. There was no sign of it on the

displays.

The Yuuzhan Vong craft were just now beginning to react

to  his  arrival-so  much for the hope that  the  Millennium

Falcon's stealth capabilities would have kept her from being

detected.

But  what,  he  considered,  had  the  enemy  seen?  A

Corellian Engineering YT-1300 freighter, similar to hundreds

of  other  small freighters they must have encountered.  The

Yuuzhan  Vong wouldn't have seen the Falcon's armament,  her

advanced  shields,  or  the modifications  to  her  sublight

drives  that could give even the swift coralskippers  a  run

for their money.

So the Millennium Falcon should continue, as far as the

Yuuzhan  Vong  were  concerned, to  look  like  an  innocent

freighter.

While  he  watched  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  maneuver,  Han

broadcast  to the enemy a series of queries and demands  for

information  of  the  sort that might come  from  a  nervous

civilian  pilot.  He conducted a series of  basic  maneuvers

designed  to keep the coralskippers at a distance, maneuvers

as  sluggish  and  hesitant as if he  were  a  fat,  nervous

freighter   loaded  with  cargo.  The  nearest   flight   of

coralskippers  set  on a basic intercept  course,  not  even

bothering  to  deploy into military formation. The  farthest

flight,  on the other side of the dovin basal mine, began  a

slow loop toward the Falcon, to support the others.

Now  that was interesting. In a short while they would

have the dovin basal singularity between themselves and  the

Falcon, with the mine's gravity-warping capabilities  making

it  very  difficult for them to see the Falcon or to  detect

any changes in her course.

"Captain Solo?" A voice on the comlink intruded on his

thoughts. "This is Commander Dorja. I'm readying the weapons

in the dorsal turret."

"Try not to blow off the sensor dish," Han told her.

He  looked at the displays, saw the far-side  squadron

nearing  eclipse  behind the distorting  gravity  mine.  His

hands closed on the controls, and he altered course directly

for  the  dovin  basal just as he gave  full  power  to  the

sublight drives.

The gravity mine was now between the Millennium Falcon

and  the far-side flight of coralskippers. The gravity  warp

surrounding the dovin basal would make it nearly  impossible

to detect the Falcon's change of course.

"We  have about three standard minutes to contact with

the  enemy,"  he said into the comlink headset.  "Fire  dead

ahead, on my mark."

"Dead ahead?" came Dorja's bland voice. "How unorthodox

. . . have you considered maneuver?"

"Don't  second-guess the pilot!" Leia's voice  snapped

like  a  whip.  "Keep  this channel clear  unless  you  have

something of value to say!"

"Apologies," Dorja murmured.

Han bit back his own annoyance. He glanced at the empty

copilot's  chair-Chewbacca's  place,  now  Leia's-and  found

himself  wishing  that he was in the second  laser  cockpit,

with Chewbacca in the pilot's seat. But Chewie was gone, the

first  of  the  deaths that had struck  him  to  the  heart.

Chewbacca dead, his younger son

Anakin  killed, his older son Jacen missing,  presumed

dead  by  everyone except Leia . . . Death had been haunting

his footsteps, on the verge of claiming everyone around him.

That  was  why  he hadn't accepted Waroo's offer  to  assume

Chewbacca's  life  debt.  He  simply  hadn't  wanted  to  be

responsible for the death of another friend.

But now Leia believed that Jacen was alive. This wasn't

a  vague  hope  based on a mother's desire to  see  her  son

again,  as Han had earlier suspected, but a sending  through

the Force, a message aimed at Leia herself.

Han had no direct experience of the Force himself, but

he  knew he could trust Leia not to misread it. His son  was

alive.

So  maybe Death wasn't following him so closely  after

all. Or maybe Han had just outrun him.

Stay alert, he told himself. Stay strong. You may  not

have to die today.

Cold determination filled him.

Make the Yuuzhan Vong pay instead, he thought.

He  made  a  last scan of the displays. The  near-side

flight  had turned to pursue, dividing into two V formations

of  three  coralskippers  each.  They  hadn't  reacted  very

quickly  to  his abrupt change of course, so Han figured  he

wasn't dealing with a genius commander here, which was good.

It  was impossible to see the far-side flight  on  the

other side of the gravity-distorting mine, but he had a good

read  on their trajectory, and there hadn't been any  reason

for them to change it.

The dovin basal swept closer. The Falcon's spars moaned

as they felt the tug of its gravity-.

"Ten seconds," Han told Leia and Dorja, and reached for

the triggers to the concussion missile launchers.

Anticipation drew a metallic streak down his tongue. He

felt a prickle of sweat on his scalp.

"Five."  He  triggered the first  pair  of  concussion

missiles,  knowing that, unlike the laser cannon,  they  did

not strike at the speed of light.

"Two."  Han  triggered another pair of  missiles.  The

Millennium Falcon's engines howled as they fought  the  pull

of the dovin basal's gravity.

"Fire!"  The dovin basal swept past, and suddenly  the

display  lit  with  the six approaching  coralskippers.  The

combined power of the eight lasers fired straight at them.

The  six coralskippers had also split into two  Vs  of

three  craft  each,  the  formations on  slightly  diverging

courses,  but both formations were running into  the  Falcon

and  her  armament at a combined velocity of better than  90

percent  of  the  speed of light. None of them  had  shifted

their  dovin basals to warp space defensively ahead of them,

and  the  pilots  had only an instant to perceive  the  doom

staring  them in the face, and no time to react.  The  first

formation ran right into the first pair of missiles and  the

turbolaser  fire,  and all three erupted in  fire  as  their

coral hulls shattered into fragments.

The  second formation, diverging, was not so  suitably

placed. One coralskipper was hit by a missile and pinwheeled

off  into the darkness, trailing flame. Another ran  into  a

burst  of  laser  fire  and exploded. The  third  raced  on,

looping around the gravity mine where Han's detectors  could

no longer see it.

Exultation sang through Han's heart. Four  kills,  one

probable. Not a bad start at evening the odds.

The Millennium Falcon shuddered to the gravitic pull of

the  dovin  basal.  Han frowned as he checked  the  sublight

engine readouts. He had hoped to whip around the space  mine

and  exit  with enough velocity to escape the dovin  basal's

gravity' and get into hyperspace before the other flight  of

coralskippers  could overtake him. But the dovin  basal  was

more  powerful than he'd expected, or possibly  the  Yuuzhan

Vong  commander  was actually ordering it  to  increase  its

gravitational attraction-there was a lot the Republic didn't

know  about how the Yuuzhan Vong equipment worked,  so  that

was at least possible.

In  any case, the Falcon hadn't picked up enough speed

to  be  sure  of a getaway. Which meant he had to  think  of

something else brilliant to do.

The other flight of six coralskippers was following him

into  the gravity well of the dovin basal, intent on staying

with  him. The one intact survivor of the second flight  was

in  the act of whipping around the dovin basal, and wouldn't

enter into his calculations for the present.

Well, he thought, if it worked once . . .

"Hang  on,  ladies," he called on the comlink.  "We're

going around again!"

Savage  pleasure  filled him as  he  swung  Millennium

Falcon  around  for  another dive toward  the  dovin  basal.

Attack my galaxy, will you? he. thought.

They had doubtless seen the beginnings of his maneuver,

so  he altered his trajectory slightly to put the space mine

directly between himself and the oncoming fighters. Then  he

altered  his trajectory a second time, just to be  safe.  If

the enemy commander had any sense, he'd be doing the same.

Both  sides were now blind. The problem was  that  the

Yuuzhan  Vong were alert to his tactics. They wouldn't  just

run  blindly  toward him: they would have their dovin  basal

propulsor units shifted to repel any attack, and they'd come

in shooting.

"Be alert, people," Han said. "We're not going to be so

lucky  this  time,  and  I can't tell precisely  where  your

targets  are  going  to  be. So be  ready  for  them  to  be

anywhere, right?"

"Right," Leia said.

"Understood," Dorja said.

"Commander  Dorja," Leia said. "You'll see  that  your

four  lasers  are aimed so as to fire on slightly  diverging

paths."

"Yes."

"Don't readjust. There's a reason for it."

"I presumed so. I won't change the settings."

A  pang of sorrow touched Han's heart. It was his  son

Anakin who had discovered that if he fired three shots  into

a  Yuuzhan  Vong  vessel at slightly diverging  courses,  at

least  one shot would curve around the gravity-warping dovin

basal  shields and hit the target. The quad lasers had  been

set  to accomplish this automatically, without Anakin's  eye

and fast reflexes.

Anakin, who died at Myrkr.

"Twenty  seconds,"  Han said, to cover  both  his  own

rising tension and the grief that flooded him.

He  triggered another pair of missiles at ten seconds,

just  in  case  he  was  lucky again and  the  enemy  flight

appeared right in front of him. And then, because he had  no

choice  but  to trust his luck, he fired another  pair  five

seconds later.

You are not keeping me from seeing Jacen again, he told

the enemy.

The  next  thing he knew plasma cannon projectiles  of

molten rock were cracking against the Falcon's shields,  and

there  was a blinding flash dead ahead as the first pair  of

concussion missiles found a target. Han's heart throbbed  as

coral  debris  pounded on the deflectors, bounded  off  like

multicolored sparks. There was a flicker on the displays  as

another  coralskipper  flashed past at  a  converging  speed

somewhere close to that of light, too fast for Han's eye  to

track it.

If he hadn't blown up the first coralskipper, he might

have actually collided with it and been vaporized along with

the enemy.

Han  tried to calm his startled nerves as he kept  his

eyes  on the displays, searching for more enemy craft around

and  behind  the dovin basal. In a moment he understood  the

enemy's  tactic.  The two Vs of three had split  into  three

pairs  and curved around the dovin basal on separate  paths,

in  the apparent hope that at least one pair would be  in  a

position to splash the Falcon as they flew past each  other.

It hadn't worked, but by sheer chance one of them had almost

taken  out the Millennium Falcon through ramming. What,  Han

wondered, were the odds on that?

The comm board began a rhythmic bleating, and Han shut

it  off.  From the display he gathered that the  Falcon  had

just lost her hyperspace comm antenna.

Oh  well. They hadn't been planning to talk to  anyone

long distance, anyway.

Feeling cheered by the thought that he'd win the battle

in  jig  time  if  he  could  go on  killing  at  least  one

coralskipper with each pass, he prepared to swing  the  ship

around  and dive toward the dovin basal yet again. And  then

his  displays lit up at the appearance of an enemy  fighter,

the one intact survivor from the flight of six he'd splashed

with  his  opening  salvo. It was curving  toward  him,  its

plasma cannons spitting out a stream of molten projectiles.

It  was  placed just so as to keep him  from  swinging

around  on the ideal trajectory for passing the dovin  basal

again. He suppressed the curses that were ringing around the

inside of his skull and instead warned his two gunners.

"Enemy skip on the port side, ladies."

He  maneuvered so as to put the target  in  the  money

lane,  where  the  fields of fire of  both  sets  of  lasers

overlapped,  and  he  heard  the  quads  begin  to  chunder.

Coherent  light  flashed  around the  enemy  craft,  curving

weirdly  as  the dovin basal's singularity-curved  space  to

safeguard the target. Enemy fire spattered off the  Falcon's

shields. Then flame sprayed from the coralskipper as one  of

the laser lances struck home. The craft seemed to stagger in

its  course.  And  then  a  second laser  blast  turned  the

coralskipper  into  a  spray of flaming  shards  that  shone

briefly, like a falling firework, and was gone.

"Nice shooting, Commander!"

Leia's  voice, complimenting Dorja on  the  kill.  Han

realized  to  his  pleasure that Vana Dorja  apparently  was

qualified on the quad lasers.

Six down, one damaged, five to go.

Han  hauled  the Millennium Falcon around for  another

pass  at  the  dovin  basal,  but  he  knew  that  the  last

coralskipper had delayed his maneuver to the point where  it

might be the enemy pouncing on the Falcon this time, not the

other way around.

A  glance  at  the  displays showed  the  five  intact

coralskippers  had  swept around again, with  each  two-skip

unit-plus the singleton survivor of the third pair-on widely

diverging  courses. They would be sweeping  past  the  dovin

basal at different times, approaching from different angles.

This  meant that no matter what Han did, he wouldn't be able

to  place the gravity-distorting singularity between himself

and  all  the enemy at once. Those who could see  him  could

communicate his position to those who couldn't.

The  advantage he'd made for himself was gone. Someone

on the other side must have had a brainstorm.

But, Han realized, the fact that the enemy flights had

separated meant he wouldn't have to fight more than two at a

time. That was something he could use.

He  looped around toward the dovin basal, letting  its

gravity draw him in.

"How are we doing, Han?" Leia called.

"Plenty  left  in the old bag of tricks!"  Han  called

back.

But which trick? That was a puzzler, all right.

His  mind  sawed at the problem as he  dived  for  the

singularity. It was clear that the first pair of enemy skips

would  arrive  at  the singularity before he  did,  and  the

single  fighter at about the same time as the  Falcon,  with

the other pair arriving afterward. The only way he'd be able

to  repeat the head-on attack that had worked the first time

was  if  he  did it on the third group of Yuuzhan Vong,  and

that   meant  running  the  gauntlet  of  the  three   other

coralskippers.  If he attacked the first  pair,  the  others

would arc around the dovin basal and be on his tail fast.

The  Yuuzhan  Vong were prepared for any  eventuality.

Unless,  of course, he simply didn't do what they  expected.

If  he  didn't  dive into the dovin basal as  their  tactics

clearly assumed . . .

Han  cut  power to the sublight engines  and  hit  the

braking thrusters. The Millennium Falcon slowed as if  she'd

hit a patch of mud.

"Skips crossing the bow port to starboard!" he called.

A volley of plasma cannon projectiles preceded the lead pair

of  fighters  that arced from behind the blind spot  of  the

dovin   basal,  bright  glowing  projectiles   that   curved

strangely  in the mine's weird gravity well. The projectiles

crossed   the  Falcon's  bows  at  a  comfortable  distance,

followed  an instant later by the fighters themselves,  both

moving too fast to alter their trajectory once they saw  the

Falcon's  position. Laser fire pulsed around them,  but  Han

didn't  see  any hits. He was already pouring power  to  the

sublight engines, letting the space mine's gravity well take

the Falcon into its embrace.

He  nearly missed his timing: the plasma cannon volley

that  preceded the single fighter's appearance  from  around

the  singularity almost clipped his tail. The fighter itself

crossed  his  stern at a blistering pace. Han  wrenched  the

controls  and altered course, heading not toward  the  dovin

basal, but away from it.

He  was  now counting on the fact that the enemy  were

communicating, but there was also an inevitable lag  between

their   perception   of   the   Falcon's   position,   their

transmission  describing the position to  comrades  rendered

blind  on  the  far  side  of the  dovin  basal,  and  their

comrades' ability to act on that knowledge. He had dived for

the  dovin  basal  until  the first pair  of  fighters  were

committed  to  their attack, then braked: the  fighters  had

crossed ahead of him. Then, once the single fighter had been

told  the  Falcon had slowed and altered its own  course  to

intercept,  Han  had  accelerated, and  the  fighter  passed

astern.

That  left  the last two, who had been told  that  the

Millennium  Falcon  had first slowed, then  accelerated.  If

they  appeared where Han thought they would, they were  dead

meat.

"Fighters  crossing  starboard  to  port:  lay   down

interdicting  fire  dead  ahead," Han  ordered,  sawing  the

Falcon  around again, toward the singularity. It was  easier

to aim his ship at the enemy than to describe to his gunners

where he thought the bad guys would appear.

His  heart gave a leap as the two coralskippers  arced

into  sight  right where he thought they'd be,  between  the

Falcon  and the dovin basal, the two fighters flying wingtip

to  wingtip  and preceded by a volley of molten  projectiles

that  curved  in the mine's hyper-gravity. The  lasers  laid

down  a blistering fire right in their path and caught  both

ships  broadside.  One flamed and broke up,  and  the  other

soared off into the night, trailing fire.

Seven down, two damaged! A nice total, and the day had

hardly begun.

Adrenaline drew a grin across Han's face. He dived for

the singularity again, not because he knew what he was going

to  do  next  but  because  he wanted  to  hide:  the  three

remaining  fighters were curving around and  about  to  drop

onto  his tail. But this time he didn't use the dovin  basal

to  slingshot himself around onto a new trajectory:  instead

he   worked  the  controls  to  go  into  orbit  around  the

singularity,  the Falcon's spars moaning from  gravitational

stress  as  she  crabbed sideways through the dovin  basal's

gravity well.

Ahead,  through space warped by gravity, he  saw  what

might be an enemy fighter. "Open fire dead ahead!" he called

again,  and  he  saw  laserfire streak  outward,  the  bolts

curving in the singularity's gravity' like a fiery rainbow.

"Keep firing!" he urged, and brought the Falcon's nose

up  just  a touch. The curving laser blasts climbed  up  the

fighter's tail and blew it to shreds.

There was wild cheering from the gun turrets: even the

restrained  Commander Dorja was yelling her head off.  "Fire

dead aft!" Han shouted over the noise as he fed power to the

sublight   engines:  with  the  gravity  well's   distortion

affecting  his  perceptions,  he  had  no  idea  where   the

remaining  enemy  were, and he was afraid they  were  behind

him,  ready  to wax his tail just as he'd waxed  the  single

enemy fighter.

Relief  poured  through  him  as  scans  showed   his

precautions  were unnecessary: they'd pulled away  from  the

dovin  basal on a completely different trajectory  and  were

well  out of range. Han held his course to see if the  enemy

had  had enough-but no, they were coming around again, ready

for more punishment.

And  two more fighters were heading for him,  the  two

he'd wounded, each coming in on its own trajectory.

Han  rolled the Millennium Falcon around, heading  for

one  of the two single fighters, figuring he could knock out

one  of  the  damaged craft before taking  on  the  pair  of

uninjured craft.

And then proximity alarms blared, and Han's display lit

up  with twenty-four fighters coming out of hyperspace right

on his tail.

Thwarted rage boiled through him. "We've got company!"

he  shouted, and pounded the instrument panel with  a  fist.

"I've  gotta say this is really unfair-!" Then he recognized

the   new  ships'  configuration,  and  he  punched  on  the

intership comm unit.

"Unknown  freighter," came a voice on one of  the  New

Republic channels, "alter course forty degrees to port!"

Han obeyed, and a section of four craft came roaring in

right  past  his  cockpit. His nerves  gave  a  leap  as  he

recognized the jagged silhouettes of Chiss clawcraft, Sienar

TIE  ball  cockpits  and engines matched to  forward-jutting

Chiss  weapons  pylons,  the  design  the  result  of  their

fruitful collaboration with the Empire under the Chiss Grand

Admiral Thrawn.

Once upon a time, Han thought, TIE fighters on his tail

would have been a bad thing.

"Commander Dorja," Han said, "we've got some  of  your

friends  here."  Another  two  sections  of  clawcraft  came

roaring past, followed by three sections of New Republic  E-

wings.  Directly  in  front  of the  Millennium  Falcon  the

formation  came apart in a star-burst, one section  of  four

heading  for each of the remaining coral-skippers while  two

others remained in reserve.

Han  hit  the transmit button. "Thanks, you guys,"  he

said, "but I was doing fine on my own."

"Unknown  freighter, stand clear."  The  voice  had  a

slightly  pompous  ring, and Han thought he  recognized  it.

"We'll handle it from here."

"Whatever  you  say,  sport," Han  replied,  and  then

watched  as  four  fighters  ganged  up  on  each   of   the

coralskippers. The enemy craft couldn't jump to  hyperspace,

and  they  couldn't flee the fighters because they had  been

chasing  the  Millennium  Falcon  at  near  lightspeed   and

couldn't alter course in time.

The  newly  arrived  fighters took  no  chances,  just

professionally  hunted  down each of the  coralskippers  and

blew it to smithereens, taking no casualties in return. Then

the  allied squadron turned on the dovin basal mine and very

carefully   destroyed  it  with  a  calculated  barrage   of

torpedoes and laser bursts.

"Nice work, people," Han congratulated them.

"Please  stay  off  this channel,  sir,"  the  fighter

commander said, "unless you have an urgent message."

Han  grinned. "Not so urgent, Colonel Fel,"  he  said.

"I'd  just  like to invite you to a meeting here aboard  the

Millennium  Falcon, with Captain Solo, Princess Leia  Organa

Solo  of the New Republic, and Commander Vana Dorja  of  the

Imperial Navy."

There was a long, lonely silence on the comm.

"Yes,  Captain Solo," Jagged Fel said.  "We  would  be

honored,

I'm sure."

"Come  right  aboard,"  Han said.  "We'll  extend  the

docking arm."

And  then, over the comlink, he called C-3PO and  told

the droid there would be guests for dinner.

Chapter 2

Leia  knew  Jagged Fel fairly well. He was a  decorated

fighter  pilot, the son of an Imperial baron who lived  with

the  Chiss  and who had on occasion aided the New  Republic.

Jag was a little stuffy, but not a bad sort once you got  to

know  him.  He had served with Jaina Solo in the defense  of

the  Hapes Cluster, and later, as part of Jaina's Twin  Suns

Squadron, fought at Borleias; and the two had the same  sort

of complicated, antagonistic relationship that Leia had once

shared  with Han. Though Leia appreciated Jaina's  having  a

friend  who  could take her out of her troubles, she  rather

hoped  that Jaina would not resolve this skirmishing in  the

same  way  that  Leia had resolved her feelings  about  Han:

having an Imperial baron in the family would create far  too

many complications. Having Darth Vader for a father was  bad

enough.

Jag  Fel came aboard in his vac suit. With his  helmet

under  one  arm, he gave Leia and Han a smart  salute.  "I'm

sorry,  sir,"  he  told  Han. "I didn't  recognize  Falcon's

profile."

"I wouldn't have made much of a smuggler if you knew my

freighter  from  any other," Han said. "But I  was  offended

that you didn't recognize my voice on the comm."

"I was calculating enemy trajectories." Stiffly. "Such

things take one's full attention."

"Will you join us for dinner?" Leia asked.

"Perhaps I will take a bite or two. But I don't want to

have a meal when my pilots are hungry."

C-3PO helped Jag remove his vac suit, revealing the red-

piped black uniform of a Chiss fighter pilot. After Jag  had

been  introduced to Vana Dorja, he joined the others at  the

table.

"Aren't  you part of Twin Suns Squadron?"  Han  asked.

"Isn't Jaina here?"

Jag explained that after Borleias, many new pilots had

arrived fresh from the training schools, and a decision  had

been  made to break up the old squadrons in order  to  build

new  squadrons  around the experienced pilots.  He  and  the

Chiss had been pulled out of the Twin Suns Squadron in order

to  form a new squadron, and Kyp Durron had been pulled  out

as well, to re-form Kyp's Dozen.

Experienced pilots were at a premium. The military had

apparently  decided  that  for  each  unit  to   have   some

experienced   pilots  was  preferable  to   throwing   whole

formations of rookie pilots at the enemy.

Jaina  had  been  compensated  for  losing  so   many

experienced  pilots  by  a  promotion.  She  was  now  Major

Solo-her  majority  up until now had been  a  temporary,  or

"brevet," rank, but now it was real.

Leia didn't like that either. She knew that Jaina would

now   feel  the  necessity  of  proving  she  deserved   her

promotion, doing so no doubt at the risk of her life.

"What's your squadron doing here?" Han asked.

"The Yuuzhan Vong have been mining this section of the

Hydian  Way,  pulling  ambushes on  freighters  and  refugee

ships.  We've  been sent in to clear the enemy  out  of  the

area.  Earlier  today we destroyed the minelaying  transport

that  had  been dropping mines and coralskippers along  this

part  of  the Way, so any more skips that we find will  have

been stranded here for a while."

"I  was  hoping  you'd get some rest and  refit  after

Borleias."

"So was I."

For a moment both men looked weary. The fight had gone

on  for so many months, and so badly despite everything they

had  done. Both deserved a rest, but neither would get  one,

not unless it was the rest from which they would not return.

A  twinge  of  anxiety prompted Leia's next  question.

"Have you seen Jaina?"

"No.  My  squadron was pulled away for this duty  just

after Borleias."

Jaina, Leia thought, deserved a rest no less than  Jag

and  Han.  Leia  had wanted to force her  daughter  to  take

leave,  and  that  was  before the  meat  grinder  that  was

Borleias,  the rearguard action where the Yuuzhan  Vong  had

been forced to pay for their victory in rivers of blood. But

Jaina  was, perhaps, too much like her mother, too committed

to the cause of the New Republic, and the Jedi, ever to rest

until some kind of victory was assured.

Wisdom  is  knowing  when you've given  all  you  can.

Neither she nor her daughter had truly learned that lesson.

Jag  turned  inquiring  eyes toward  Leia.  "And  you,

Highness?" Jag asked. "What are you doing here, so far  away

from the centers of power?"

"A diplomatic mission to the Empire," Leia said.

"You're alone? No escort?"

"There was no one with the authority to give us one, so

we  just  went." No use explaining about her vain  hopes  of

spending  some  time alone with Han, a combination  vacation

and  second  honeymoon, while they transited to Bastion  and

back.

"I assume you'll attempt to convince the Empire to make

greater  efforts against the Yuuzhan Vong,"  Jag  said.  His

tone  was  insufferably superior. "A pity that the logic  of

the  situation is so against you-it would really  make  more

sense in the short term for the Empire to join the Vong."

Leia  saw  Vana Dorja's sudden, intent  interest,  and

dreaded it. "Could you explain your reasoning, Colonel Fel?"

Dorja asked.

Han, clearly furious, opened his mouth to interject  a

comment, but at a look from Leia said nothing.

"It's  a  question of what each side could  offer  the

Empire,"  Jag  said. "The Empire's a beaten  shadow  of  its

former self, strapped for resources. The New Republic is  in

no  position to help the Empire, not when its own  resources

are  being appropriated by the invaders. But think what  the

Yuuzhan  Vong could offer the Empire-whole worlds!  All  the

Empire  would have to do is take them from the New  Republic

while  the  New Republic's forces are committed against  the

Vong. The Empire could double its size, taking its choice of

worlds, and it would cost the Yuuzhan Vong nothing."

Vana Dorja's eyes narrowed with calculation. "That's a

very interesting analysis, Colonel," she said.

Han  finally couldn't contain himself any longer,  and

lodged his protest. "You forget what happens next" he  said.

"The Vong can't be trusted-they haven't kept their word yet!

If  the Vong let the Empire grow, it's because they're  only

fattening it for slaughter."

Jag rubbed the long scar on his forehead. "That's why I

said in the short term, Captain Solo," he said. "In the long

term,  I  don't believe the Empire would survive long  in  a

galaxy dominated by the Yuuzhan Vong."

Vana  Dorja's  eyes  glittered.  "Could  you  explain,

Colonel Fel?"

The  superior  tone was back in Jag's voice.  "Leaving

aside  any  issues of perfidy-and it's perfectly  true  that

Yuuzhan  Vong guarantees can't be trusted-there exist  long-

term issues of compatibility. The Vong and the Empire simply

want  different  things. The Empire wants a  return  to  the

power and respect it once enjoyed.

The Yuuzhan Vong want not only the complete domination

of  the  galaxy, but an ideological and religious domination

as  well-they want their way of life to triumph.  And  while

some  aspects of Yuuzhan Vong life are compatible  with  the

Empire-the   discipline,  the  unquestioning  obedience   to

authority-other areas are not. The Yuuzhan Vong are  opposed

to all forms of technology"

He held up a hand. "And where is the Empire without its

technology?  The Empire has always relied on a technological

solution  to  its  problems.  If  it  adopted  Yuuzhan  Vong

biotechnology instead, it would concede whatever  advantages

it has, and make itself dependent on the Vong."

He shook his head. "And even an Empire doubled in size

would  be unable to resist the Yuuzhan Vong if-I should  say

when-the  Vong  move against them. The New Republic,  if  it

somehow  survived, would not come to the aid  of  an  Empire

that  had  aided its enemies. If the Empire allies with  the

Yuuzhan  Vong, it will be isolated, ripe fruit for the  Vong

whenever  they choose to pluck it. And even if  the  Yuuzhan

Vong  keep their promises and do not invade, the Empire will

be   overwhelmed  quite  peacefully  in  time-in  a   galaxy

dominated  by  the  Yuuzhan Vong, the Empire  will  have  to

become  Vong-like  in  order to survive.  The  Yuuzhan  Vong

triumph either way."

Bravo!  Leia  thought  in  admiration.  Jagged  Fel's

analysis had stated her own position succinctly.

Vana  Dorja, listening, nodded but offered no opinion.

Leia could only hope she would include Jag's analysis in her

report.

Jag  turned to Leia. "We're isolated here,"  he  said.

"I've   heard  very  little  information  concerning  what's

happening  elsewhere in the New Republic. Do  you  have  any

news I can give to my pilots?"

Leia  took  a  deep breath. Only the sunny  news,  she

thought:  the  Imperial spy was listening. "The  Senate  has

established  itself on Mon Calamari," she said. "They're  in

the  process  of  reestablishing the  regular  processes  of

government and electing a Chief of State."

Amusement quirked a corner of Jag's mouth. "I  thought

Pwoe was Chief of State."

"Pwoe seems to be a minority of one at the moment." In

the  aftermath of the fall of Coruscant, Councilor Pwoe  had

declared himself in charge, and had begun issuing orders  to

the  government and the military. He might have gotten  away

with it had the Borleias campaign gone differently-Pwoe  had

expected   the  defenders  to  buy  time  with   their   own

annihilation,  but instead Wedge Antilles  and  his  scratch

force  had  held  out for much longer than  expected,  their

example  an inspiration to the remnants of the New Republic.

The  holodocumentary Battle of Borleias,  by  the  historian

Wolam  Tser, was doing sellout business throughout  the  New

Republic,  and  had shown the defenders  of  the  planet  as

heroes  battling against great odds. Wolam Tser's  work  had

done  a  lot to change minds about the New Republic  Defense

Force and its capabilities.

When the Senate had finally reconvened on Mon Calamari,

they'd  remembered that it was they who  had  the  right  to

elect  the Chief of State, and they'd summoned Pwoe and  his

cohorts to join them. Even then Pwoe might have managed  his

election  as  the  New  Republic's leader,  but  instead  he

overplayed his hand: he insisted that the Senate  leave  Mon

Calamari  to join him at Kuat. The Senate refused,  declared

the   office  of  Chief  of  State  vacant,  and  sent   out

instructions that no organ of government should obey  Pwoe's

orders.

"Pwoe's been made unwelcome at Kuat," Leia said. "Even

Niuk  Niuv  won't  follow  him  any  longer.  He's  left-for

Sullust, I hear. I doubt he'll be welcome there, either."

Vana  Dorja gave a slight shake of her head. "This  is

the  sort  of thing that can only happen when the  chain  of

command is not clear," she said.

"It's  clear enough," Han pointed out. "Pwoe chose  to

disregard it, is all. And now he's paying the penalty."

"In the Empire he would be shot," Dorja said.

Han  gave a satisfied smile. "We're crueler  than  you

are," he said to Dorja's surprise. "Instead of killing  him,

we're  going  to let him linger for years as  an  object  of

contempt and ridicule."

Jag,  smiling also, rose from the table. "Duty  calls,

I'm  afraid,"  he said. "We've got to destroy any  remaining

mines  and  coral-skippers before the  Yuuzhan  Vong  get  a

transport out to rescue them."

The others rose and said farewell to their visitor. Jag

snapped  out a salute. "Good luck, Captain. Your  Highness."

He  hesitated.  "Would you like an escort as  long  as  your

route takes you along the Hydian Way?"

"Thanks, but no," Han said. "We're not moving along the

Way,  we're crossing it. It's a coincidence that we're  here

at all."

"Very well, then." Jag picked up his helmet. "The best

of  luck  on your journey. Good to meet you, Commander,"  he

added, with a flick of his eyes toward Dorja.

"And you, Colonel."

"Good hunting," Leia said.

Jag smiled. "I think it will be good hunting," he said,

and moved toward the air lock.

A  few  minutes  later the twenty-four  fighter  craft

flashed  into  hyperspace, and the crew  of  the  Millennium

Falcon  continued alone to a meeting with their old  enemies

in the Empire.

Chapter 3

"I  have a few minutes only," Senator Fyor Rodan  said.

He  sat-sank, rather-in an oversoft armchair while his aides

bustled in and out of his hotel suite. All of them seemed to

have  comlinks permanently fixed to their mouths, and to  be

engaged in more than one conversation at the same time.

"I  appreciate  your  taking  the  time  to  see  me,

Councilor,"  Luke  Skywalker said. There  was  no  place  to

sit-every   chair  and  table  was  covered  with  holopads,

datapads,  storage units, and even piles of  clothing.  Luke

stood  before the Senator and made the best of  the  awkward

situation.

"At  least  I  have  managed  to  get  the  Calamarian

government to give the Senate a place to meet," Rodan  said.

"I was afraid we'd have to go on using hotel facilities." As

he  spoke, he punched numbers into a datapad, scowled at the

result, and then punched the numbers again.

The  Senate hadn't quite shrunk to the size  where  it

could  comfortably  meet  in  a  hotel  suite,  but  it  was

certainly  a much slimmer body than it had been just  a  few

months previously. Many Senators had managed to find reasons

not  to  be  on the capital when the Yuuzhan Vong  attacked.

Others  had  been  sent  away  to  establish  a  reserve  of

political  leaders, so that they wouldn't be caught  all  in

one place. Yet others had commandeered military units in the

middle  of the action and fled. Still more had died  in  the

fighting at Coruscant, been captured, or had gone missing.

And  then of course there was Viqi Shesh, who had gone

over to the enemy.

Fyor  Rodan  had  done none of these  things.  He  had

remained at his post until the fall of Coruscant, then  been

evacuated  by the military at the last moment.  He'd  joined

the  luckless Pwoe in his attempt to form a government,  but

then  come  to  Mon Calamari when the Senate reconvened  and

summoned all Senators to their places.

His  behavior had been both courageous and principled.

He  had won the admiration of many, and was now spoken of as

a candidate to replace Borsk Fey'lya as Chief of State.

Unfortunately, Fyor Rodan was also a political opponent

of  Luke  and  the rest of the Jedi. Luke had  asked  for  a

meeting in the hope of swaying Rodan's position, or at least

of understanding the man better.

Perhaps Rodan's animosity toward Luke and his  friends

dated  from  the time that an impatient Chewbacca  hung  him

from  a coat hook just to get him out of the way. There were

also  rumors  that  Rodan  was  connected  in  some  way  to

smugglers-that he spoke against the Jedi because Kyp  Durron

had once taken action against his smuggler associates.

But  those were rumors, not facts. Besides, if  anyone

was  to  be condemned for having friends who were smugglers,

then Luke was damned a dozen times over . . .

"How may I help you, Skywalker?" Rodan asked. His eyes

flicked briefly to Luke, then returned to the datapad.

"This  morning,"  Luke  said,  "you  were  quoted  on

broadcast  media as saying that  the Jedi were an impediment

to the resolution of the war."

"I should say that is self-evidently true," Rodan said.

He  kept  his attention on the datapad screen as his fingers

touched  one  button after another. "At times this  war  has

been  about the Jedi. The Yuuzhan Vong insist that you  must

all  be  handed over to them. That is an impediment  to  the

war's resolution-unless of course we do hand you over."

"Would you do that?"

"If I thought that by doing so, I could save the lives

of   billions  of  the  New  Republic's  citizens,  I  would

certainly  consider  such an action." He  frowned  slightly.

"But  there are more serious impediments to peace  now  than

the  Jedi-such as the fact that the enemy are sitting in the

ruins of our capital." His face hardened. "That and the fact

that the Yuuzhan Vong will not stop until they have enslaved

or  converted  every being in our galaxy. I personally  will

not  support even an attempt at peace with the Yuuzhan  Vong

until  such  time as they evacuate Coruscant and  the  other

worlds  they  have seized." His eyes flicked to Luke  again.

"Does  that  satisfy you that I'm not planning to  sacrifice

you and your cohorts, Skywalker?"

Though  the  man's words seemed reassuring,  for  some

reason  Luke  didn't find them comforting. "I'm  pleased  to

know  that you're not in favor of peace at any price,"  Luke

said.

Rodan's  eyes returned to his datapad. "Of course  I'm

only  a  Senator and a member of the late Chief  of  State's

Advisory  Council," he said. "Once we have a  new  Chief  of

State, I will inevitably be forced to support policies  with

which  I  personally  disagree. That's  how  our  government

works.  So you should seek reassurances from our next  Chief

of State, not from myself."

"There  is  talk  that you may be our  next  Chief  of

State."

For  the first time, Rodan's fingers hesitated on  the

keyboard  of  the datapad. "I would say that  such  talk  is

premature," he said.

Luke  wondered  why the man was being so  consistently

rude.  Normally a politician canvassing for support wouldn't

close the door on someone who could potentially help him  to

power, but Rodan had always followed an anti-Jedi line  even

when  there  was no advantage to be gained, and  that  meant

something  else  was  going  on. Perhaps  the  rumors  about

smuggling made more sense now.

Luke queried again. "Whom do you support for the post?"

Rodan's  fingers  grew busy once more.  "One  question

after  another,"  he  said.  "You  sound  like  a  political

journalist.  If  you  want  to  continue  along  this  line,

Skywalker,  perhaps  you could trouble yourself  to  acquire

press credentials."

"I'm  not  planning to write any articles. I'm  merely

trying to understand the situation."

"Consult  the  Force," Rodan said.  "That's  what  you

people do, isn't it?"

Luke  took  a  breath. This conversation  was  like  a

fencing  bout, attack followed by parry as the  two  circled

each other around a common center. And that center was . . .

what?

Fyor Rodan's intentions toward the Jedi.

"Senator Rodan," Luke said. "May I ask what  role  you

envision for the Jedi in this war?"

"Two  words,  Skywalker," Rodan said, his  eyes  never

leaving the datapad. "None whatsoever."

Luke  calmed the anger that rose at Rodan's deliberate

rudeness, at his provocative answers. "The Jedi,"  he  said,

"are the guardians of the New Republic."

"Oh?" Rodan pursed his lips, glanced again at Luke. "I

thought  we  had  the New Republic Defense  Force  for  that

purpose."

"There was no military in the Old Republic," Luke said.

"There were only the Jedi."

A  half  smile twitched on Rodan's face. "That  proved

unfortunate when Darth Vader turned up, didn't it?" he said.

"And  in  any  case,  the handful of Jedi  you  command  can

scarcely do the work of the thousands of Jedi Knights of the

Old  Republic."  Rodan's glance grew  sharper.  "Or  do  you

command  the Jedi? And if not you, who? And to whom is  that

commander responsible?"

"Each  Jedi  Knight is responsible to the  Jedi  Code.

Never  to  act for personal power, but to seek  justice  and

enlightenment." Luke wondered whether to remind  Rodan  that

the  councilor  had opposed Luke's notion of refounding  the

Jedi  Council in order to provide the Jedi with more  direct

guidance  and authority in their actions. If the  Jedi  were

disorganized,  it was partly Rodan's doing,  and  it  hardly

seemed just for Rodan to complain about it.

"Noble  words," Rodan said. "But what does it mean  in

practice? For justice, we have police and the courts-but the

Jedi  take  it upon themselves to deliver justice,  and  are

constantly  interfering in police matters,  often  employing

violence.   For  diplomacy,  we  have  the  highly   skilled

ambassadors  and consuls of the Ministry of State-but  Jedi,

some  of  them  mere  children I might  add,  take  it  upon

themselves   to   conduct   high-level   negotiations   that

frequently  seem to end in conflict and war. And  though  we

have  a  highly  skilled military, the  Jedi  take  it  upon

themselves to commandeer military resources, to supplant our

own officers in command of military units, to make strategic

military decisions."

Such as to hunt smugglers? Luke wondered. He considered

bringing  up  the  issue of smuggling, but  decided  against

it-with  Rodan  in  his present mood, Luke  didn't  want  to

remind him why he hated the Jedi in the first place.

"It's an amateurish performance," Rodan continued. "At

worst  the  Jedi are a half-trained group of vigilantes.  At

best  they simply make it all up as they go along,  and  the

result  is all too often disaster. I hardly think  that  the

ability  to do magic tricks is qualification for supplanting

professional diplomats, judges, and military officers."

"The  situation is critical," Luke said. "We're  being

invaded. The Jedi on the spot-"

"Should  leave it to the professionals,"  Rodan  said.

"That's what we pay the professionals for."

Rodan turned to his datapad, called up information. "I

have  your record here, Skywalker. You joined Rebel Alliance

forces  as  a  starfighter pilot.  Though  you  fought  with

distinction at Yavin Four and at Hoth, you shortly afterward

left  your unit, taking with you the starfighter that didn't

belong  to  you,  in  order-" He paused  to  insert  virtual

quotation  marks  around his words. "-to conduct  'spiritual

exercises'  on  some jungle planet. And  you  did  all  this

without even asking permission of your commander.

"You afterward returned to the military, served bravely

and  with distinction, and rose to the rank of general.  But

you  resigned  your  commission., during wartime,  again  to

devote  yourself  to  spiritual  matters."  Rodan  shrugged.

"Perhaps during the Rebellion such irregular practices  were

necessary, or at any rate tolerated. But now that we have  a

government,  I  fail to see why we should  continue  turning

over state resources to a group of amateurs who are all  too

likely  to  follow their Master's example and abandon  their

posts whenever the mood-or the Force-takes them."

Luke  stood  very still. "I think you will  find,"  he

said,  "that  our 'spiritual exercises,' as you  call  them,

strengthen  us  in  our  role  as  protectors  of  the   New

Republic."

"Possibly so," Rodan said. "It would be interesting to

conduct a cost-benefit analysis to discover whether the Jedi

are  in  fact worth the resources the government has devoted

to  you.  But my point is this-" He looked up at Luke  again

from the depths of his oversoft chair, and his eyes were not

soft  at  all.  "You  call  yourselves  protectors  of   the

Republic; very well. But I have looked very carefully at the

constitution  of our government, and there is no  Office  of

the Protectors of the Republic."

Rodan's expression turned quizzical. "What exactly are

you, Skywalker? You aren't military-we have a military.  You

aren't  a  diplomat-we have diplomats. You  aren't  a  peace

officer or a judge-we have those. So why exactly do we  need

you?"

"Jedi  Knights,"  Luke said, "have been  fighting  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  from the first day of this invasion-from  the

first  hour.  Many Jedi have been killed-some sacrificed  to

the  enemy  by  their fellow citizens-but  we  continue  our

struggle  on  the  New Republic's behalf. We  are  effective

enough  that  the  Yuuzhan  Vong have  singled  us  out  for

persecution-they are afraid of us."

"I  don't  question your bravery or your  dedication,"

Rodan  said. "But I do question your effectiveness. If  your

people  want  to fight the Yuuzhan Vong, why  not  join  the

Defense  Force?  Train  with  the  other  soldiers,   accept

promotion  on the same basis as other soldiers,  and  accept

the same penalties for derogation of duty as other soldiers.

As  it  is,  the  Jedi  expect special privileges,  and  the

regular officers have every right to resent them."

"If   you   feel   the  Jedi  are  an  undisciplined,

uncontrolled force," Luke asked, "why do you oppose the  re-

formation of the Jedi Council?"

"Because  the Jedi Council would form an  elite  group

within  the  government. You say you do not  seek  power  or

personal  gain-  and I will take you at your word-but  other

Jedi have shown less admirable traits." His eyes flicked  to

Luke again, a chill, flinty gaze. "Your father, for one.

"If  you  want  to  fight  the  Yuuzhan  Vong,"  Rodan

continued,  "advise your Jedi to join the military.  Or  any

other  branch  of  the  government  that  appeals  to  their

interests  and  skills.  They can, of  course,  continue  to

practice  their  religion in private, as any other  citizen,

and not as a state-supported cult.

"No,  Skywalker." Rodan settled deeply into his  chair

and  returned  his  attention to  his  datapad.  "Until  you

actually  join this government you say that you defend,  and

join  it on the same basis as any other citizen, then I have

every  intention  of  regarding you as  I  would  any  other

lobbyist  for  any  other interest group  demanding  special

privileges   for   its   members.  Now"-his   voice   became

abstracted-"I  have  many other appointments,  Skywalker.  I

believe our interview is at an end."

Why is he behaving this way? Luke wondered. And then he

left.

"He kept calling me 'Skywalker,' " Luke said. "Because

I don't have a tide-I'm not a Senator, I'm not a general any

longer,  I'm  not an ambassador. He used the  word  like  an

insult."

"He  could  have  called  you  'Master.'  Like  I  do

sometimes." Mara Jade's voice was a smoky purr in  his  ear.

Her arms slipped around Luke's waist from behind.

Luke  smiled. "I don't think it would be the  same  as

when you do it."

"It better not be ... Skywalker" Luke jumped as one of

her hands gave his stomach a slap.

Luke had found Mara waiting for him as he returned  to

their  rooms in the large hotel suite they shared  with  Han

and  Leia.  He had been calm, even analytical, when  he  was

speaking  with Rodan, but when he related the  substance  of

his interview to Mara, he found himself with less reason  to

maintain  calm and objectivity, and the resentment  that  he

hadn't actually felt in Rodan's presence now began to boil.

Mara, without comment, had begun to massage the growing

tension  out  of  his  shoulders. The playful  slap  on  his

stomach had banished the rest of it. Luke smiled.

Luke  turned  and let his arms coil  about  his  wife.

"We've  lost Coruscant," he said, "we're fighting the  enemy

every  day,  and  the squabbling and rights  for  precedence

never  end.  Rodan's not going to make it easy  for  us.  He

thinks the Jedi are claiming unjustified privileges and  can

evolve  into a menace to the state." He hesitated. "And  the

problem is," he admitted, "I'm beginning to think that  much

of what he says might be true."

"Sounds  like a depressing interview."  She  drew  him

closer, let her cheek rest on his shoulder as she directed a

mischievous  whisper to his ear. "Maybe I should  cheer  you

up. Would you like me to call you 'Master' again?"

Luke  couldn't  help  but laugh. With  the  successful

delivery  of their child, Mara had at last come out  of  the

shadow of the terrible disease that had afflicted her for so

long.  For years she'd had to control herself precisely  and

ruthlessly in order to either fight the illness or  keep  it

in  remission. The birth of Ben had been a kind of  internal

signal  that it was possible to feel joy again. To feel  the

least bit irresponsible. To be spontaneous and impulsive. To

laugh,  to  play,  to  take  delight  in  life-despite   the

seemingly endless war that raged around them.

And since Ben had been sent for his own safety to  the

Maw, Mara's principal plaything had become Luke.

"Say what you like," Luke said, "if the mood strikes."

"Oh, it strikes. It definitely strikes."

"Well," Luke said. "Let it strike, then."

Some time later, Luke turned to Mara and said, "So how

was your day?"

"Thirsty. I need a glass of water."

Luke reluctantly allowed her to slip out of his embrace

and into the kitchen.

Mon  Calamari had been swarmed by refugees from worlds

conquered or threatened by the Yuuzhan Vong, and housing  in

the  great  floating cities was expensive, particularly  for

those who insisted on breathing only air.

Mara  brushed her red-gold hair back from her freckled

shoulders  and  took a long drink. She put the  glass  down,

turned  to  Luke,  and sighed. "It was  work,  but  I  think

Triebakk  and I finally convinced Cal Omas that he needs  to

be our next Chief of State."

"Congratulations to both of you," Luke  said.  In  the

past few weeks he'd grown accustomed to the way their lives,

and their conversation, veered sharply from the political to

the personal and back again.

Cal  Omas had fought with the Rebel Alliance, and  had

shown  himself sympathetic to the Jedi. Certainly, from  the

Jedi  point of view, he was a better candidate for Chief  of

State than Fyor Rodan.

"Fyor  Rodan  wants  the  job,  too,"  he  said.  "The

possibility  was the only thing that got a reaction  out  of

him."

"There  are  two  more candidates. Senator  Cola  Quis

announced  his  intention  to run this  morning,  after  you

left."

Luke searched his memory. "I never heard of him."

"A Twi'lek from Ryloth. Serves on the Commerce Council.

I  don't  think  he stands much of a chance,  but  maybe  he

thinks he can forge an unbeatable lead if he starts now."

"And the fourth?"

"Ta'laam Ranth of the Justice Council. He's known to be

canvassing for support."

"Can he win?"

"Triebakk  thinks he isn't trying  to  win.  Ranth  is

trying  to  build a bloc of supporters in order  to  play  a

decisive  role  in the outcome. At the last  second  he  can

swing his bloc to another candidate in return for favors."

Luke shook his head. "At least there are four Senators

left  who  think  the job is worth having. That  means  they

think they've a future in the New Republic yet."

Or a future in looting the New Republic before it goes

down.  The  dark  thought intruded before Luke  could  quite

prevent it.

Carefully,  he pushed the thought away,  and  chose  a

different tack.

"The  question is," he said, "how much do  we  involve

ourselves in this election?"

"As Jedi? Or as private citizens?"

Luke smiled. "That's a separate question."

Mara considered this. "Would it benefit Cal to be known

as the Jedi's choice?"

Luke sighed. "Well, that question's answered."

Mara was surprised. "You think it's that bad?"

"I  think somebody's got to be blamed for the fall  of

Coruscant."

"Borsk  Fey'lya seems a fair choice. He was  Chief  of

State, and he made a lot of mistakes."

"Fey'lya  was martyred during the battle.  He  died  a

hero. It's going to be politically impossible to assign  him

blame."

Mara nodded slowly. "So you think it's the Jedi who are

going to be assigned responsibility."

"I  think  we  should take care  that  it's  not.  The

question is how." He reached for Mara's water glass and took

a sip. "If we're seen as interfering in the selection of the

Chief of State, then we'll start hearing complaints of 'Jedi

interference'  and  'Jedi  power  grab'  and  'secret   Jedi

cabal'-from Fyor Rodan, if no one else."

"So we act as private citizens."

"And we don't do anything Cal Omas doesn't want us  to

do.  He's  the professional. He knows just how far to  push,

and where."

He's the professional. Luke smiled at the irony. Rodan

had wanted him to follow the professionals' advice, and here

he was doing it.

Mara  smiled. "So-let's assume we win, and  we  get  a

government that will work with the Jedi ..."

"That's a lot of assumptions."

"What becomes of the Insiders?"

Luke paused. During the Battle of Borleias he and Mara,

together  with  Han  and Leia and Wedge  Antilles  and  some

others,  had formed the conspiracy that was the Insiders,  a

group  intended  to  form a Rebel Alliance  within  the  New

Republic,  dedicated to fighting the war  with  the  Yuuzhan

Vong.

"We  don't  go  public  with the  Insiders  under  any

conditions," Luke said. "We don't tell Cal, even if he wins.

The  Insiders  are our reserve, the people we  know  we  can

trust. It remains our secret."

And then suddenly, he thought, Jacen!

The water glass fell from his fingers and shattered on

the floor. Mara stared at him.

Luke didn't notice. A strange bliss had fallen on him.

Now everything changes, he thought.

"It's the turning point." The words fell from his lips

without  volition.  And even as he spoke,  he  came  to  the

realization  that  he didn't know the place,  amid  all  the

great stars of the universe, from whence the words had come.

Chapter 4

Jaina  Solo sat alone at the controls of her ship,  the

tendrils  of the alien hood fixed to her face. Her attention

was  focused on the ship's displays, where she expected  her

quarry to appear.

Her quarry was Shimrra, Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan

Vong.

Kill this one, she hoped, and the Yuuzhan Vong invaders

might fall like a house of cards.

Word  had flashed from New Republic Intelligence  only

three  standard days earlier that the Supreme  Overlord  was

expected at the library world of Obroa-skai. Obroa-skai  had

been  conquered,  and the contents of the library  were  now

being  translated  into the Yuuzhan Vong  language.  Yuuzhan

Vong priests had been placed in charge of the library; there

were  Yuuzhan  Vong soldiers on the ground to protect  their

interests. Yuuzhan Vong ships were common in the system, and

the  planet was home to a yammosk that would coordinate  any

alien pilots in the area.

If anyone consulted the library any longer, it was the

enemy.  Possibly  Shimrra  himself  was  coming  to  view  a

critical piece of information that had just been translated.

Obroa-skai had become an enemy asset.

And  if  Jaina had her way, it would become  an  enemy

graveyard.

So  Jaina hovered here, with the bulk of the gas giant

Obroa-held  masking her from any detectors  on  the  library

planet, and waited to spring her trap.

Just this one last effort, she thought, and maybe it's

all  over.  If Shimrra were killed, the Yuuzhan  Vong  might

collapse. And even if the enemy didn't fall apart, Shimrra's

death would serve as revenge for the fall of Coruscant,  and

give the New Republic a much-needed breathing space.

Jaina badly wanted an end to the war. She had been  on

the  front lines literally since the first day. Then she had

been  joyful,  confident, certain of her abilities,  of  the

power of the Force and the order of the universe. Since then

the  war  had  taught  her much. It had  taught  her  doubt,

terror, anxiety, fear, and anger. She had learned the limits

to  the Force, and to Force mastery.. The war had shown  her

the  darkness that lay within her, and how easy it had  been

for  the  darkness to overcome her, to drive  her  to  fury,

vengeance, and slaughter.

Most of all, the war had taught her sorrow. Sorrow for

her  lost brothers Jacen and Anakin, for Chewbacca, for  her

wingmate  Anni Capstan, for the Hapan Queen Mother  Teneniel

Djo,  for  all the warriors who had died fighting  alongside

her,  for  the  Jedi  lost to the Yuuzhan Vong's  relentless

program  of  extermination, for  the  billions  of  nameless

refugees  who had been caught in the conflict and destroyed,

or dispossessed of all they had owned or known.

She had learned her own fragility. She had been blinded

in  battle  and learned the frustration of the invalid.  She

had been captured by the enemy. She had learned how easy  it

was for her to die, and how easily the universe would permit

such a thing.

Jaina  had learned too much, and in too short a  time.

She  needed a rest in order to try to understand it all,  to

reconcile  herself  to  her new knowledge  and  to  her  new

reality.

But  there  was  no time to rest.  Her  work  was  too

critical, her expertise too necessary. She would have to win

the war first, and then work out what it all meant.

If, of course, the war didn't kill her first.

There was a howl from Lowbacca on her comlink.

"The  Vong have been late before, Streak." Though  not

often enough, she thought.

[You don't suppose that New Republic Intelligence  has

once again drop-kicked their brains and sent us out here for

nothing?]

"That wouldn't surprise me."

[In which case we can return to base, take a nice long

rest, no?]

"That would, surprise me."

"Huuuh."

"But if New Republic Intelligence is rightT Jaina said,

more  to herself than to her lieutenant, "then this  is  it.

This  is like the destruction of the second Death Star, with

the Emperor on it."

"Hrr." [Then let the Supreme Overlord come!]

Even as Lowbacca growled his impatience, Jaina sensed a

distant  trembling  through her connection  with  the  alien

frigate,  a  shudder like a groundquake in  the  ether,  her

ship's  dovin  basals responding to the gravity  surge  that

marked the arrival of a great many ships from hyperspace.

"Lowie," she said, "I think you just got your wish."

She  had not learned to love the captured Yuuzhan Vong

frigate  as  she had her other ships. Jaina had learned  her

ships  through her hands, by tearing them apart and  putting

them back together: she had learned to love every component,

every  servo,  every power cable, every rivet. The  captured

ship,  on  the  other  hand, couldn't be  taken  apart,  not

without killing it: it was a single organic whole and had to

be  approached as such. The interface through the  cognition

hood  was  difficult, the organic ship systems were  complex

and  frustrating, the dovin basals used for  propulsion  and

defense  were as baffling as they were effective. Her  other

craft  had  been fighter craft: agile, fast, and responsive.

The  Yuuzhan Vong frigate Trickster was huge, and though  it

was  fast, maneuvering it was like maneuvering a city block.

Changing course seemed to take forever. And there was no way

to  dodge or evade enemy fire: she just had to hope that the

ship's  defenses  were strong enough to take  the  hits  and

survive.

But  if she couldn't love the frigate, she had learned

to respect it. She respected its toughness, the wholeness of

its  design,  its  ability to repair  itself,  its  stubborn

refusal  to  die  even when it had been shot  to  pieces  in

combat  against its own kind. In fighting around Hapes,  the

ship had been wounded almost to the death, but somehow, with

the  care of the Hapan scientists who were studying  Yuuzhan

Vong  life-forms, it had survived and repaired much  of  the

damage,  though not all. Yet despite the fact that  some  of

the  ship's damage was beyond repair, despite the torn yorik

coral  and the dovin basals that had died, it was  still  as

willing as ever to risk itself at Jaina's behest.

Jaina  named it Trickster. The name proclaimed  her  a

manifestation  of  Yun-Harla, the Cloaked One,  the  Yuuzhan

Vong  Trickster goddess. As such the name was a slap in  the

face  to Yuuzhan Vong religious orthodoxy. Though the  guise

had  proved useful-at both Hapes and Borleias, it had  given

her  a  clear tactical advantage-it also only added  to  the

considerable number of enemy who wanted very badly  to  kill

her.

A  thought at which she could only shrug. So what else

was new?

"Let's go, Lowie."

Lowbacca,  through his alien cognition  hood,  ordered

Trickster to accelerate, sweeping out from behind the Obroa-

held  gas  giant  and  into  view of  any  enemy  detectors.

Directed gravitational energy began to throb from the  dovin

basals  built into the frigate, and even though some of  the

dovin basals had been killed at Hapes, the huge living craft

began a ferocious, smooth acceleration that any New Republic

vessel would be hard put to equal.

Jaina  followed  this call with a coded  message  sent

through the New Republic subspace communicator that Lowbacca

had  implanted in the frigate. Target arrived.  Let's  start

the party.

It  was only then that Trickster's sensors got a  full

reading on the fleet that had just arrived in the Obroa-skai

system.

Jaina felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as

she  looked at the display. Eight frigates the size  of  her

own. Two huge transport craft. More coralskippers and picket

ships than she could count.

And one enormous ovoid vessel, glowing in the displays

like  a  burning, unwinking eye. Not as big as a  worldship,

but larger than anything else in the Obroa-skai system other

than planets and moons.

The personal command ship of Supreme Overlord Shimrra,

Jaina thought. Oh yes. New Republic Intelligence was right.

Another  wave of gravity pulsed over the  ship.  These

were  the  commands  of the yammosk, the  Yuuzhan  Vong  war

coordinator  that executed the will of the enemy  commander.

Lowbacca allowed Trickster to obey the yammosk's commands to

alter  course for the enemy, but slowly, as if  the  frigate

were   damaged,   or  unable  clearly  to   understand   its

instructions.

The  yammosk  no doubt verified that the  frigate  was

damaged,  a  fact that would make its lack of  communication

with the fleet more convincing.

And then the party started. Dropping out of hyperspace,

as  if  they'd been following Trickster, came the forces  of

the New Republic.

Nine  flights  of  fighters. Four Corellian  gunships.

Three  Kuat  Systems Republic-class cruisers. A  refurbished

Lancer-class  frigate captured from the  Empire  during  the

Rebellion. And two MC80B Mon Calamari cruisers, both  wildly

different  in  appearance but possessing a  world-shattering

complement  of turbolasers, ion cannons, and their  own  ten

squadrons  of  fighters, all of which now came boiling  like

swarms  of stinging insects from their scalloped hulls.  All

under  the command of General Keyan Farlander, the Agamarian

hero  of the Rebellion, and all appearing just behind Jaina,

with  the Obroa-held gas giant only partially masking  their

appearance.

This, Jaina thought exultantly, is a real battle.

And  they were following her plan. Hers. For a  moment

her own fierce joy overcame all doubt, and she basked in the

glorious sensation of power. Shimrra, you better watch out.

The  New  Republic forces had been hovering just  four

light-hours, waiting for Jama's signal to make the  smallest

possible  hyperspace jump into the Obroa-skai  system.  They

appeared  slightly out of range of Trickster, as  if  they'd

misjudged  their return to normal space. It should  look  to

Supreme Overlord Shimrra like a perfect chance to ambush the

ambushers.

More commands came from the yammosk, too many and  too

complex  for  Jaina to even attempt to decode.  Through  the

weird perceptions gained through her hood, she saw the enemy

fleet  deploying,  the heavy ships rolling ponderously  into

position behind darting swarms of coralskippers that flashed

like  schools  of fish against the blackness of  space,  all

moving with the simultaneity and impossible precision gained

from    coordination   with   the   yammosk's    controlling

intelligence.

But they were doing what Jaina had hoped they would do.

Perhaps  encouraged by their modest advantage in  firepower,

they were maneuvering to engage the New Republic forces.

Jaina  had feared that if the New Republic  fleet  had

simply leapt into the system and attacked, the Yuuzhan  Vong

would have clumped up around Shimrra's command ship, and the

New Republic forces would never have been able to get to the

enemy  leader.  But instead the damaged Trickster's  leaping

first  into the system made it seem as if the New  Republic,

not  the  Yuuzhan Vong, had been surprised,  that  they  had

jumped  into the system in pursuit of a wounded frigate  and

found instead a task force.

The Yuuzhan Vong war psychology was based on attack, on

the  calculated ferocity of an all-out offensive. Jaina  had

hoped to trigger that psychology, and she had succeeded.

For  the  moment there was nothing for her to  do  but

follow  the  yammosk's orders. She leaned back in  the  huge

command  chair  that  had  been configured  for  an  armored

Yuuzhan Vong warrior and tried to relax her muscles, control

her  breathing. She let Force-awareness, always on the  edge

of her perceptions, flood her mind with its focused clarity.

She  felt Lowbacca's nearby presence, under  the  hood

that gave him command of the frigate's navigation. Her other

lieutenant,  Tesar  Sebatyne, had his  efficient  predator's

mind  focused on controlling the frigate's weapons  systems.

Farther  afield Jaina sensed the grim, reliable Corran  Horn

leading Rogue Squadron, and Kyp Durron flying at the head of

his  re-formed Dozen. Kyp's reflex, on sensing  her  through

the  Force, was to project concern, and she made a point  of

sending him warm reassurance. Since Jaina's involvement with

Jag Fel, Kyp had been a nurturing presence, almost parental,

and neither he nor Jaina quite knew how to reconcile his new

persona  with his earlier smoldering identity as  the  angry

young man of the Jedi.

Then,  lastly, Jaina sensed a less familiar  presence,

the  Anx Jedi Madurrin, who served on the bridge of the  Mon

Cal  cruiser Mon Adapyne, ready to use her Force  link  with

the other Jedi to aid the New Republic.

Other  friends, she knew, would soon be  engaging  the

enemy,  friends who weren't Jedi and whom she couldn't  feel

through  the Force. Friends in Blackmoon Squadron and  Saber

Squadron,  not  to mention the hypersecret  Wraiths,  flying

snoopships   that  could  outrun  anything  in   the   enemy

inventory.

Jaina basked for a moment in the pleasure of those she

had  trained  with, served with, those who  had  shared  her

triumphs as well as her despair ... At Myrkr she had learned

the power of the Force-meld that could come when a number of

Jedi united their minds and thoughts, becoming stronger than

if  each stood alone, and for a long moment she rejoiced  in

their unity.

Jacen!  she thought, his presence a song in her  mind,

and then she fought her way clear of Force-awareness and  of

the  sudden  surges of contradictory emotion  that  streamed

through her.

A Wookiee howl came into her comlink.

"I don't know what that was about!" She hesitated.  "I

must have lost it for a second. Sorry."

Lowbacca grunted his reassurance.

"I  opened to the Force, and I must have opened  to-to

something else as well."

Tentatively, Jaina reached out again to the Force, and

felt nothing but the warm concern of her friends.

Everything's fine, she tried to send to them.

But  she  couldn't help but echo Lowbacca's  question.

What was that about? What had she opened to, that caused the

flood of memories and emotions connected with her dead twin?

Distantly  she  perceived  the  orders  of  the  enemy

yammosk,  saw  the Yuuzhan Vong fleet instantly  carry  them

out.  There  was  no hesitation in the enemy,  no  sense  of

indecision or fear. Wish we could say that about ourselves,,

Jaina thought.

Her  own mind was gnawing at her situation, trying  to

deduce enemy intentions from their deployments. The plan for

the  upcoming battle had been largely hers, and it was based

on  several assumptions, none of which Jaina could  be  sure

still applied.

She  could no longer have complete confidence  in  the

assumption  that  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  hadn't  realized  that

Trickster  was  no  longer one of  their  own  ships.  She'd

already used the frigate for deception, and it was perfectly

possible that they would be wise to her by now.

Part  of  her plan was also based on the use of  decoy

dovin  basals that could attach to enemy ships and  identify

them  as  enemies  to  their  own  side.  This  had  been  a

spectacular success in the Hapes Cluster and in  the  Battle

of  Borleias,  but  sooner or later the Yuuzhan  Vong  would

learn to ignore or counter the false signals.

The  most crucial element of the plan were the yammosk

jammers  developed by Danni Quee. These would  override  the

signals of the Yuuzhan Vong war coordinator, preventing  the

eerie,  single-minded, instantaneous  maneuvering  that  had

been the hallmark of enemy victories.

If the Yuuzhan Vong had worked out a way to counter the

jammers,  then  Jaina was leading a New  Republic  fleet  to

certain  destruction,  with Supreme Overlord  Shimrra  as  a

highly  interested spectator in yet another glorious triumph

for the Vong . . .

Let it all work just one more time.

Both  fleets were maneuvering now. They were no longer

hurtling  directly  toward one another on  opposing  tracks:

both had altered course in order to avoid the Obroa-held gas

giant  and to approach at a far more acute angle that  would

allow  wide  fields of fire to the capital ships'  broadside

guns.  Among  the  enemy was a swarm of  coralskippers  that

seemed  dedicated  to  guarding  the  presumed  flagship  of

Overlord  Shimrra, which itself hovered somewhat behind  the

action,  screened by other fleet elements. And the  flagship

itself  guarded the large transports, which took station  on

its far side.

And  between  the  fleets, Jaina's  frigate-apparently

ignored  by  both sides-fled across the gap, heading  toward

the presumed safety of the Yuuzhan Vong squadrons.

More  orders came to Trickster courtesy of  the  enemy

yammosk.

[We're  being  ordered to take station astern  of  the

enemy flag,] Lowbacca said.

"Well," Jaina judged, "that's about perfect."

[Shall I comply?]

"Yes. But act naturally-you know, slow and clumsy."

Lowbacca  answered with a snarl, but Jaina could  hear

the laughter in it.

Jaina  relaxed  again into the Force, integrating  the

picture she received through the alien cognition hood.  Both

sides  were  nearing the point of no return,  the  point  at

which missiles and fighters would start swarming across  the

gap between the squadrons.

Jaina  watched the ships move across space,  tried  to

gauge the movement.

Now,  she  sent through the Force. She  felt  Madurrin

receive  the  order,  relay it verbally  to  others  on  the

flagship.

On  receipt of the signal, a device on one  of  Wraith

Squadron's  snoopships began pulsing out gravity waves  that

interfered directly with the signals of the enemy yammosk.

And then, when the enemy war coordinator was no longer

able to communicate with the elements of its fleet, the  New

Republic  fleet  undertook  one more  maneuver.  Each  fleet

element  altered  course to drive directly for  the  largest

enemy ship, Shimrra's personal vessel.

Shimrra  was  now  the sole target of  more  than  one

hundred New Republic craft. If the Yuuzhan Vong yammosk  was

jammed, the enemy would not be able to coordinate a response

in  time,  and  because  of  the proximity  of  Obroa-held's

gravity field, the enemy couldn't escape into hyperspace.

Jaina sat, trapped in what seemed an eternal moment of

suspense, while she waited to see if the jammers worked,  if

the  enemy  responded. She could dimly perceive  the  jammer

through her connection to the dovin basals of Trickster, the

rhythm  of its transmissions overriding the sendings of  the

enemy yammosk.

And then she felt another rhythm intrude on the first,

and  saw  the  enemy ships respond, swinging  in  a  unified

response to the New Republic's maneuver, every' single  ship

in the enemy armada altering course at the same instant.

No! Jaina thought, horrified. It can't be!

The jammer had failed-or rather it had worked for only

a   few   moments,  producing  a  hesitation  in  the  enemy

countermaneuver.

At  least  the enemy maneuver had been delayed.  Their

position was no longer ideal.

Despair  flooded  over Jaina. Get out  of  here.,  she

thought through the Force-meld. Get away from Obroa-held and

into hyperspace now! It wasn't actual words she sent, but  a

frantic  tumble  of  images and impulses and  emotions  that

reflected her own anxiety.

No. Corran Horn's strong presence flooded Jaina's Force-

awareness.  His answer was a powerful cocktail of  feelings,

impulses, words, and fierce reason. Think!

Jaina  was  frantic beyond thought.  Her  frigate  was

sweeping  directly toward the enemy, and one enemy squadron,

led  by two frigates her own size, had altered course so  as

to  pass right by her- headed not for Trickster, she  hoped,

but for an element of the New Republic fleet.

Missile  tracks  began  to fly through  her  displays.

Again, none aimed at her.

Madurrin's  presence  floated  into  the  Force-meld,

alerting the others that Farlander was going to try  another

maneuver at the last second.

Jaina  ordered her frigate to scatter weapons  as  the

enemy squadron approached. As if they were shadow bombs, she

used  the  Force  to  shove  them toward  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

warships,  but  these weren't shadow bombs, nor  would  they

cause  damage  to  the  enemy-at least  not  directly.  Each

contained  a  dovin basal that, when attached  to  an  enemy

vessel and triggered, would identify the ship carrying it as

an enemy of the Yuuzhan Vong. In the past she had used these

devices  to cause the enemy to fire on one another, but  now

she had no confidence in the tactic: if the Yuuzhan Vong had

worked out how to counter the yammosk jammer, it wasn't very

many  steps from there to being able to counter every weapon

in Jaina's arsenal.

The  enemy squadron flashed past, several of the decoy

dovin  basals attaching to each ship. Jaina felt a surge  in

the  Force  as  the  order was given for  the  New  Republic

fleet's  last-second  maneuver.  She  held  her  breath   as

Farlander's squadrons turned and accelerated, an attempt  to

cross  the  bows  of  the oncoming Yuuzhan  Vong  squadrons,

shifting  their target back from Shimrra's flagship  to  the

enemy  fleet elements. And then Jaina's despair deepened  as

she  felt,  through  her connection with  Trickster's  dovin

basals,  another  series of commands raining  out  from  the

distant yammosk. The enemy ships all turned, once again,  to

counter Keyan Farlander's maneuver.

The  Yuuzhan Vong hadn't even been delayed this  time.

They had responded to the maneuver the instant they detected

it.

Jaina's  blood ran cold. The yammosk jammers had  been

countered. The single greatest contribution to the war,  the

keystone of Jaina's plan for winning the battle-and  it  was

useless.

Out  of  pure  despair she triggered the  dovin  basal

decoys  she  had  fired  at  the enemy  craft.  Despite  her

impulsiveness the timing was perfect: the decoys switched on

just as the enemy craft opened their main attack on the  New

Republic  squadron. All  the missiles and bolts  that  would

otherwise have poured into the New Republic ships were fired

instead  at the two frigates and a few other smaller  craft,

which  in  their turn furiously fired at each  other.  Jaina

watched  as the elements of the Yuuzhan Vong squadron  began

maneuvering  against  each  other  with  the  same   uncanny

precision  they  had always shown under the  guidance  of  a

yammosk.

Yuuzhan Vong pilots and gunners were shrouded  by  the

living  hood that fed diem information, and they  knew  only

what the hood told them. When it told them a ship was enemy,

they fired at it.

"It worked," Jaina said.

[Of course,] Lowbacca answered.

But  why?  The question floated to Jaina  from  Corran

Horn. Think. Something's. . .going on.

Fire spattered the flanks of the two enemy frigates as

projectiles  and  missiles struck home.  Their  dovin  basal

shields  had  been  aimed to repel the attacks  of  the  New

Republic squadron, not their own fire, and they were  taking

heavy  damage.  And then, once the enemy were fully  engaged

with one another, New Republic concussion missiles and bolts

from  New Republic laser cannons arrived, followed by  Kyp's

Dozen  and two other flights of starfighters. Smaller  enemy

ships were vaporized. The two frigates staggered to repeated

hits. Muffled by her hood, Jaina gave a cheer. Through   the

Force  she  could  feel Corran, Kyp, and  Madurrin  as  they

fought  together, bringing separate elements  of  the  fleet

into  a  synchronization  similar to  that  granted  to  the

Yuuzhan Vong by their yammosk.

But  they  flew only three ships, and led  only  three

elements  of  the fleet, two of them fighter squadrons.  The

rest  of  the  New Republic fleet was forced to  communicate

through  more conventional means. And only one of  the  five

enemy squadrons was in trouble, the squadron that Jaina  had

seeded  with  decoy basals. The rest were engaged  with  New

Republic  forces in a far more standard give-and-take,  with

the   Yuuzhan   Vong  still  maneuvering  with   the   eerie

simultaneity given them by their war coordinator.

The  New  Republic forces were presumably firing  more

decoy dovin basals at the enemy, but the missiles would have

to  get through in order to have any effect, and so far none

had.

Contrary  to  what  intuition might  suggest,  fighter

combat  generally  grew less deadly, not  more,  as  greater

numbers  of  fighters were involved. When fights were  large

and  confusing, pilots spent more time watching their  tails

than  hunting  the  enemy. The brains of the  pilots  simply

couldn't  keep  track  of all the craft maneuvering  against

them.

But  that  wasn't the case with the Yuuzhan  Vong  war

coordinator.  The yammosk kept track of every craft  in  the

sky  and ordered those in jeopardy to maneuver while  others

were  guided  to  rescue their comrades.  The  New  Republic

starfighter pilots, brave and well trained though they might

be,  were simply outclassed by a dedicated intelligence that

could process all the data from a large battle at once.

Jaina's heart lifted when first one, then another enemy

frigate  blew  to  bits, both betrayed by  the  decoy  dovin

basals  she'd fired at them. But otherwise the Yuuzhan  Vong

were  doing  well. Flames poured from one of  the  Corellian

gunships,  and  the vessel was staggering out of  formation,

out  of  control, its sublight drives slagged.  One  of  the

Republic-class cruisers was taking a lot of hits. And around

every   formation   winked  swarms  of   little   fireflies,

starfighters and coralskippers dying in battle, their  lives

flaring away in brief, silent fire.

Only Jaina, who had flown unmolested clear through the

enemy  fleet,  was  in  a position to observe  it  all,  and

despair.  The enemy yammosk gave the Yuuzhan Vong too  great

an advantage. She could sense Corran and Kyp as they battled

against an enemy whose maneuvers were simply without flaw.

Think! Jaina echoed Corran Horn's command. She led the

only  crew  not  engaged with the enemy; she  was  the  only

person with time to think. Why was the yammosk working  even

though  it was jammed? Why was the jammer not working  while

the  decoy  basals were functioning perfectly,  even  though

they were both based on the same principles?

Through  Trickster's dovin basals, she could distantly

sense  the  commands of the enemy yammosk,  the gravity-wave

instructions that commanded the Yuuzhan Vong formations. But

she  could  also hear the regular beats of the  jammer,  the

jammer that should be overriding the enemy signal.

What was going on?

Think! She answered her question with a command.

She  submerged her awareness into the complex signals,

tried to sense the pattern. The rhythms of the densely coded

messages  patterned through her mind, too fast  for  her  to

follow. There were two distinct patterns, she found, not one

overlaid  atop  the other-the jammer and the yammosk  seemed

almost not to have anything to do with each other. What  was

the problem?

And  then,  beneath  the jammer, Jaina  began  sensing

something else, another pattern.

Her awareness slowed, tried to tune out the relentless

beats  of  the jammer. There . . . Surprise sang  along  her

nerves.  What  she  detected seemed to  be  the  signals  of

another yammosk.

Two yammosks?

The  truth  came  in a sudden flash. Supreme  Overlord

Shimrra  had brought his own war coordinator to the  battle,

probably on his flagship. But there was a second yammosk  in

the  system,  one seeded by the invaders on Obroa-skai,  the

yammosk  that New Republic Intelligence had known about  all

along.

Whatever yammosk was first in command had been  jammed

by the Wraiths. But then the second yammosk, operating on  a

different part of the gravity-wave spectrum, had stepped  in

to take control.

For  a  moment Jaina's hands twitched in  her  command

gloves, on the verge of ordering the jammer in Trickster  to

commence  operations, but then she hesitated. If  the  enemy

detected  the  origin  of  the  jamming,  then  they'd  know

Trickster  was a decoy vessel. Instead she yanked  oft"  her

cognition hood and reached for the comm.

"Twin  Suns Leader to Wraith Leader. There's a  second

yammosk! You'll have to tune another jammer to it."

Face Loran's tone failed to reveal whatever surprise he

might   be   feeling.  "This  is  Wraith   Leader.   Message

understood, Major."

There  was  a  slight delay before Jaina detected  the

second  jammer  begin its hammering beat,  and  another  few

seconds before it found the correct signal and began jamming

it. Anxiously Jaina scanned the battle scene laid out behind

her.

It was working. The eerie synchrony of the enemy ships

was breaking up. Coralskippers hesitated in their movements,

waiting  for instructions in all the deadly chaos,  and  the

New Republic craft took instant advantage.

Momentum was with the New Republic now. They were used

to   operating  with  less-than-perfect  communications  and

coordination,  but the Yuuzhan Vong pilots  were  bewildered

once deprived of  the commands of the yammosk.

Got one! Kyp's triumph floated through  the force.

Get  another, Corran Horn sent-had time to  send,  now

that he was no longer so hard-pressed. Jaina could have wept

with relief.

She  relaxed into the Force again. She couldn't affect

the  battle directly, but she could help her friends,  could

send  strength, love, and support through their  Force-link.

She  sensed  their growing strength, their growing  triumph.

Coralskippers blazed in front of their guns.

Through the combined Force awareness and the knowledge

gained through Trickster's sensors, she watched the progress

of  the  battle. When the two enemy frigates  had  destroyed

each  other,  the  capital  ships fighting  them  had  found

themselves  free  and  had moved  to  assist  a  second  New

Republic  squadron,  sandwiching  a  Yuuzhan  Vong  squadron

between them. Elsewhere, another of the enemy's frigates had

been  hit with one of the decoy dovin basals, and was  being

pounded  by  another  Yuuzhan Vong  frigate  and  swarms  of

Coralskippers under the impression that it was an enemy. The

ride had definitely turned, and Jaina quietly exulted.

My plan. It was working after all.

[Jaina.] Lowbacca's voice.

"Yes?"

[I thought you'd like to know I've just laid Trickster

right astern of  the enemy flagship.]

Jaina snapped alert and pulled the alien cognition hood

over  her head. At once she detected the rounded aft section

of  Shimrra's  ship dead ahead, studded with  plasma  cannon

barrels,  launch tubes, and rounded fairings that  doubtless

held something probably dovin basals used for propulsion  or

defense.

And  they  ordered  us to come here!  she  thought  in

delight.

"Right," she said, this time through the comlink  that

connected  her  to everyone in her squadron. "I  want  every

cannon  and  projectile tube on that ship's stern  targeted.

And those fairings, too, whatever's in them."

Acknowledgments crackled over the comlink,  and  Jaina

busied  herself  in following her own orders.  Most  of  her

squadron members were dispersed over the frigate, hooded and

gloved as she was, in charge of weapons or defense stations.

Though  she  could command the ship with fewer  than  twelve

crew,  the  efficiency  was  greater  if  there  were   more

sentients onstation.

And her rookie pilots-exactly half of her squadron  of

twelve-   were   a  lot  safer  here  than  piloting   their

starfighters against an experienced enemy.

All  stations reported readiness. Jama's gloved  hands

hovered  in the air. Through the Force, she sent the message

that they were ready to open fire on the flagship.

After a moment came General Farlander's reply, relayed

through Madurrin. Carry on.

Carry on. Right.

"All weapons ready? Open fire!"

Trickster's  bow  blazed as a  host  of  missiles  and

projectiles  sped  for  the  undefended  enemy  stern.  Fire

blossomed  over  the  dark silhouette  of  the  enemy  ship,

patterns  of  pinpoint flares marking dozens of hits.  Jaina

made  certain  that amid the volley were two  of  her  decoy

dovin basal missiles-one primary, one reserve-and as soon as

the  first  volley  was  over, she  triggered  the  primary,

informing  every Yuuzhan Vong in  the area  that  their  own

flagship was now an enemy.

This  encouraged the sixty nearby coralskippers to  do

their bit, plunging toward their flagship, fire raking along

its  flanks.  The  small  craft probably  couldn't  do  very

critical  damage  to anything as huge as their  target,  but

every little bit helped.

There  was  a pause between the first volley  and  the

second  only because the gunners were checking their targets

and  retargeting those that hadn't been destroyed. And  then

Trickster's bow blazed again, and this time the blaze didn't

stop.

Jaina  was going to keep firing until every gun barrel

and every missile tube on her ship was empty.

The  flagship was surprisingly slow to respond.  Dovin

basal  energy was directed aft, sucking incoming projectiles

into  their  black-hole singularities, but the dovin  basals

were seemingly unable to cover all the stern, so some of the

attacking  volley struck home anyway, and other  bolts  from

the  Trickster arced through dovin basal-warped  space  over

the  stern  of the enemy ship, only to plunge down somewhere

amidships.

After  Jaina's first strike the enemy  simply  had  no

weapons  remaining  that fired dead aft,  so  missiles  were

fired  out  of the broadside batteries. These  had  to  loop

toward  Trickster on a long arc, however,  which  made  them

easy  to spot, and Trickster's own dovin basals warped space

to pick them off.

"We're in their shadow!" Jaina cried, and kept firing.

Through   her   Force-awareness,  she  sensed   Kyp's

satisfaction as he nailed a pair of coralskippers,  Corran's

grim  pleasure  in leading his flight onto the  tails  of  a

group  of enemy skips, and Madurrin's awe as two more  enemy

frigates were destroyed.

The  stern of the enemy flagship was glowing  now,  an

eerie orange-red as repeated impacts broiled the target.

Jaina kept firing.

"The enemy's breaking off, Twin Leader." The flagship's

voice came over her comm.

"Good news, flag."

"Not  so  good for you. They're pulling back  to  help

their leader."

That  meant four enemy frigates would soon be engaging

her.  No,  three enemy frigates-she saw one break up  as  it

tried to maneuver away from the fight.

"Better call on the-"

"Already taken care of, Twin Leader."

Already taken care of. Through her dovin basals  Jaina

felt  the  surge of gravity waves as two more  squadrons  of

starships entered realspace.

Two  Battle Dragons, three Nova-class battle cruisers,

and  accompanying fighters, all courtesy of the Hapan  Navy,

and  led in person by Jaina's former classmate, Queen Mother

Tenel Ka, ruler of the sixty-three inhabited planets of  the

Hapes Consortium.

Greetings!  Tenel  Ka  sent.  Her  strong  personality

flooded  Jaina's Force awareness. The presence of  a  single

additional Jedi had greatly increased the power of the Force-

meld.

Welcome  to Obroa-skai, Majesty, Jaina tried to  send.

We've  saved the flagship for you. She couldn't tell whether

such a complex thought got through, but she could sense that

Tenel Ka understood at least the substance of it.

The Hapan fleet, like the New Republic ships, had been

hovering  only a few light-hours from Obroa-skai, ready  for

the  call.  Previous Hapan experience in fighting  alongside

the  New  Republic, at Fondor, had been nothing short  of  a

catastrophe,  and  Tenel Ka had taken a  political  risk  in

bringing  her  ships  here at all. Both  Jaina  and  General

Farlander wanted to be careful in using their ally,  and  so

it had been agreed that the Hapans were to be used either to

complete a victory or, if necessary, to cover a withdrawal.

What  the  Hapans managed instead was  to  complete  a

massacre.  Hapan tactics had always consisted  of  a  direct

charge  that  launched  a massed energy  wall,  all  weapons

blasting  at  once at a single target, a tactic that  proved

ideal  for this situation. The Battle Dragons, on their  way

to  the flagship, first took out the enemy transports, their

concentrated wall of fire shattering the ships to fragments.

Jaina  watched  in awe as the three  battle  cruisers,

acting  as  one, dashed at the enemy flagship  in  a  single

pass, their batteries blazing. Much of the fire got through,

and  Jaina  saw  towering explosions and geysers  of  debris

erupt from the enemy hull.

Hapan energy weapons had once taken a notoriously long

time  to  recharge, but after Fondor the  New  Republic  had

given  the  Hapans quick-charge turbolasers, so  the  battle

cruisers stayed in the fight and kept hammering, now  joined

by the Battle Dragons. The flagship quaked to impacts, flame

pouring from gaping holes in its sides.

At  this point the rest of the Yuuzhan Vong apparently

conceded their flagship lost, abandoned the battle, and fled

in  all  directions with allied squadrons in pursuit.  Jaina

was  surprised-she'd  assumed they'd  defend  their  Supreme

Commander to the last warrior.

One  alien frigate, surrounded by enemies, jumped into

hyper-space too soon and was dragged back into realspace  by

Obroa-held's  gravity.  The  inertia-damping  dovin   basals

failed  at the shock, and every individual on the  ship  was

flung  into the nearest bulkhead at nearly six-tenths  speed

of  light. The result was a superheated plasma that ruptured

the  enemy  hull as it blasted outward. Another frigate  was

blown  to  shreds by New Republic cruisers. Of  the  capital

ships, only one frigate escaped into hyper-space, along with

however many of the coralskippers it had managed to recover.

The  Hapan  ships blew up the flagship on  their  next

pass.  The  starfighters began to hunt  down   the  stranded

coralskippers.

All that remained was for the surviving allied capital

ships  to  move to Obroa-skai, destroy the planet's  yammosk

with  a well-placed shot, and then plaster any Yuuzhan  Vong

barracks or installations until they glowed, taking care not

to harm what remained of the library.

Jaina  watched  the  end game play  itself,  her  mind

ringing with awe. It worked. Her plan. It worked.

She  had just killed Shimrra, Supreme Overlord of  the

Yuuzhan Vong. If she hadn't just won the war, she might have

provided its decisive moment.

A Wookiee howl came over the comlink.

"Yes!" Tesar said. "Congratulations!"

Cheers  and congratulations erupted over the  comlink.

Jaina's  squadron,   the  comrades she'd  led  into  danger,

cheering her success. An unaccustomed joy filled Jaina.

"Thank you," she babbled. "Thank you all."

More congratulations came through her Force-awareness.

And  then,  from  the  flagship, "Stand  by.  The  general's

sending a message."

Keyan  Farlander's voice, when it came over the  comm,

sounded bemused.

"I've  just  received  a subspace  communication  from

Intelligence advising me not to make the attack, or to break

off if I've begun," he said.

Jaina laughed. In the heady triumph of the victory, New

Republic Intelligence seemed even more behind the times than

usual.

"I don't suppose they mentioned why?" Jaina responded.

"Well," Farlander said, "it seems there's a problem. It

looks  as if Supreme Overlord Shimrra wasn't in the flagship

after all."

Chapter 5

"Can you tell me what's going on here?"

General  Keyan Farlander stood on the  bridge  of  Man

Adapyne,  bent  in conference with one of  his  captains,  a

spike-headed  Elomin named Kartha. He turned briefly  toward

Jaina,  a  grim  expression on his face, and said,  "Just  a

minute, Jaina. This is important."

Jaina had a hard time imagining anything more important

than  whether or not Supreme Overlord Shimrra had just  been

turned  into  a chunk of charred space debris, but  she  bit

back  her  reply  and crossed the bridge to  where  Madurrin

waited. The Anx Jedi stood more than four meters tall,  with

a  thick  tail  that balanced her massive body  and  pointed

head.  She  had volunteered for the war against the  Yuuzhan

Vong  but  could  hardly be crammed into the  cockpit  of  a

starfighter; the bridge of Mon Adapyne was far better suited

to her.

"What happened?" Jaina demanded. "What's going on?" "I

don't  know any more than you do." Madurrin sent reassurance

to  Jaina  through  the  Force.  "It's  all  right.  We  did

extremely well. We won. We took the offensive and we won-for

the first time."

Jaina  took  a breath and tried to calm  her  outraged

nerves. "Thanks. But what about Shimrra?"

"You  saved  a lot of lives today," Madurrin  reminded

her.  "You saved us when you realized the Yuuzhan Vong  were

using a second yammosk." She inclined her long, pointed head

toward the Elomin officer speaking to Farlander. "You  saved

Kartha's life, for one. He was captain of the Pulsar."

"Was?"  Pulsar was one of the Corellian gunships.  Was

that the one she'd seen out of control?

"Pulsar's  completely disabled. We'll have to  scuttle

her. The general's making arrangements for bringing off  the

crew and getting medical attention to the wounded."

The wounded . . . Jaina had been so completely focused

on  combat  that she had forgotten about the  price  of  the

battle. The bloody toll of even a victorious fight.

She  straightened. She didn't want to think about  the

dead  and wounded now. Her service had to be to the  living,

and her focus on victory.

"The  kill ratios were very much in our favor,"  Jaina

said.

"Yes," Madurrin said. "They were."

Jaina scanned the bridge as she waited for Kartha  and

Farlander  to conclude their conference. Though  there  were

many  different species aboard the cruiser, from  the  human

Keyan  Farlander  on  down, the  bridge  crew  was  made  up

entirely  of Mon Gals. The brilliant display monitors,  with

their  strange distortions, were configured for Mon Calamari

eyes,  and the chairs and instrument panels were adapted  to

their  amphibious physiology. The bridge architecture,  with

its  shell-like,  scalloped  design,  suggested  a  peaceful

subaquatic  grotto. So different, Jaina  thought,  from  the

hard,  geometric shapes of star-fighter controls, let  alone

the  strange,  melting  organic  patterns  of  her  captured

Yuuzhan Vong frigate.

Other  captains  entered while  Farlander  spoke  with

Kartha. Last of all came Queen Mother Tend Ka, sweeping onto

the  bridge with her female Hapan captains echeloned  behind

her, and dressed in a magnificent sky-blue admiral's uniform

covered  with  gold insignia and braid, her  red-brown  hair

tied back by a glittering royal diadem.

Jaina looked at her old classmate in surprise. She was

more used to seeing Tenel's lithe, muscular body clad in the

reptile-skin  tunic  of  a Dathomirian  Witch-warrior.  This

sleek look was something new.

The  ruler of sixty-three planets clearly outranked  a

Jedi  Knight,  because  General  Farlander  broke  off   his

conference with Captain Kartha, approached Tend Ka, and gave

a bow.

"Your Majesty," he said, "your fleet's arrival was well

timed."

"The timing was yours," Tenel replied. She turned  her

gray eyes to Kartha. "And the casualties, too."

"Hapes has taken many casualties on behalf of the  New

Republic," Farlander said. "We hoped to spare you more."

"You've  spared us political embarrassment  as  well."

Tenel  Ka gave Farlander a frank look. "We can present  this

to our people as a nearly bloodless victory," she continued.

"This  will  aid  our  alliance.  Fact.  We  arc  profoundly

grateful."

That  was  the royal we, Jaina thought. Tenel  Ka  was

fitting with surprising case into her new role as queen.

"We  should  return to  the Hapes Cluster  before  our

loyal  subjects learn we're not, as we claimed, on a routine

fleet  exercise,"  Tenel went on. "But first,  I'd  like  to

know-was that Shimrra we killed or not?"

The  I had been a slip, Jaina thought, indicating just

how much Tenel had invested in the answer.

Farlander quirked an eyebrow. "I think I can guess how

New  Republic Intelligence made the mistake," he said. "They

know that Supreme Overlord Shimrra is moving from the Rim to

his new capital of Coruscant. They received a report that  a

Yuuzhan  Vong  big shot commanding a fleet was  due  in  the

Obroa-skai system to consult  the library. They put two  and

two  together  and  came  up with seventeen."  He  shrugged.

"Resistance units on the ground on Obroa-skai just confirmed

that the enemy commander was someone named Supreme Commander

Komm Karsh."

"Supreme  Commander." Tenel's look was thoughtful.  "A

rank second only to warmaster. Still a notable victory."

"Yes,  Majesty,"  General Farlander  said.  There  was

relief  in  his  eyes. "I'm relieved as  well.  I  put  this

operation  together in the absence of any instructions  from

my  superiors-"  His  eyes flicked to Jaina.  "-and  at  the

urging  of  one  of  my  officers. Who-even  if  she  is  3.

goddess-is still rather junior."

Tenel Ka gave Jaina an appraising look.

"Goddess?" she said.

"You  can  call  me 'Great One,' " Jaina  said.  "Most

people do."

Partly as a propaganda exercise, and partly because it

suited  the role she had played in the war so far,  the  New

Republic  military had gone out of its way to behave  toward

Jaina  as  if  she  were an emanation of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

Trickster  goddess, Yun-Harla. They hoped to take  advantage

of  Yuuzhan Vong superstition about twins, or to outrage the

orthodox and drive them into an ill-judged frenzy.

Jaina couldn't say whether this was working or not, but

she had found the goddess routine amusing . . . for at least

the first ten minutes. After that it had become a drudgery.

Tenel  Ka's words were thoughtful. "Does a mere mortal

queen dare to hug a goddess?"

"You have our permission," Jaina said.

Tenel crossed the deck between them and embraced Jaina

with  her single arm, hard enough so that Jama's breath went

out of her.

General Farlander tactfully cleared his throat.

"Majesty,  Great  One, I'd like to  proceed  with  the

conference if we may," he said. "Komm Karsh may have  called

for reinforcements before his death, and I'd like to get out

of this system while I'm ahead."

"Sensible," Tenel Ka said.

Tenel bade farewell to Madurrin, and then she and  the

captains  retired  to  the  cruiser's  conference  room,   a

seashell-shaped room with subdued, shimmering blue  lighting

that  presented the illusion of being underwater. The room's

central  table  was a gleaming work of art,  subtly  curved,

gleaming like mother-of-pearl beneath the hushed lights.

Tenel  Ka, walking with easy dignity, took  her  place

before  the  seat of honor. At her nod, everyone took  their

seats.

The  captains  first  presented  damage  and  casualty

reports-Jaina  was  pleased to  report  that  her  unit  had

suffered  no  losses, and her ship only minor harm-and  then

there  was  discussion of what to do  with  Fur  Thunder,  a

Republic-class cruiser that had suffered significant damage,

including  damage  to its hyperspace drives.  Farlander  was

inclined  to abandon and scuttle the ship, but Far Thunder's

Captain  Hannser argued forcefully that he could repair  his

ship given time, and Farlander finally gave his assent.  Far

Thunder  would be evacuated except for command,  drive,  and

damage control crews, then make a microjump out of the Obroa-

skai  system  under  escort by the Lancer-class  frigate.  A

tender  would  be  sent with the necessary  spare  parts  to

rendezvous with Far Thunder, and-with any luck-preserve  the

Kuat  Systems cruiser for future encounters with the Yuuzhan

Vong.

"We'll  hope  to see you at Kashyyyk," Farlander  told

Hannser.

"Kashyyyk?" Tenel Ka was surprised. "Why Kashyyyk?"

"We're  shifting  our base there, Majesty,"  Farlander

said. "We want to be able to defend that section of  the Mid

Rim  yet  still  be close enough to offer you assistance  at

Hapes if you should come again under attack."

Tenel nodded. "Your long-term plans?"

Farlander  looked uncertain. "The fact is  that  we've

received no instructions from headquarters since the fall of

Borleias. I'm making everything up as I'm going along."

Tenel frowned. "Who is your immediate superior?"

"Admiral Traest Kre'fey. But he is a relative of Borsk

Fey'lya,  and  was compelled to return to Bothawui  for  the

period of official mourning."

Jaina lifted one eyebrow but otherwise remained silent.

She couldn't bring herself to mourn the late Chief of State,

but she supposed someone had to.

Keyan  Farlander clasped his hands and leaned  forward

across  the conference table. "Please understand,  Majesty,"

he  said.  "I  hope  that we may once more operate  together

against our common enemy. I will cooperate with you  to  the

utmost  of  my  power,  and if the Hapes  Cluster  is  again

attacked,  I  hope  you  will  feel  free  to  call  for  my

assistance. But I can't speak for my superiors, and I may be

superceded at any time."

"Understood," Tenel said.

Uncertainty  dogged them all, Jaina thought.  She  had

hoped,  with  a strike at the enemy leader, to bring  things

into  focus.  But  her target had been a phantom,  and  even

though  a victory had been won, it was hard to say,  in  the

fog of doubt, just what even such a victory really meant.

Chapter 6

Jacen rose gently from the embrace of the Force like a

man  rising  slowly  and reluctantly  from  the  warmth  and

buoyancy of a mineral spring. He paused before rising  fully

to  the  mundane  world  and basked  for  a  moment  in  the

luxurious,  shining unity of all living  things,  and  then,

like  a garment, he donned his ego-put himself into himself,

as it were-and he opened his eyes.

"You were successful?" Vergere asked.

The  strange being's feathery whiskers floated  in  an

alien  breeze, a wind heavy with warmth and the thick  spoor

of  organics.  They had escaped Coruscant in a Yuuzhan  Vong

coral  craft., a vessel with a resinous interior that looked

like half-melted ice cream and ventilation that smelled like

old socks.

"I  think  I  found them," Jacen said. "I  touched  my

mother,  and I know she recognized me. But we were  cut  off

suddenly-I don't know why. And I think I may have reached my

uncle-my Master- Luke. And I touched my sister, briefly." He

frowned   as  the  harmonious  sensation  brought   by   his

connection  with the Force was disturbed by  the  unsettling

memory. "But she was involved in a confrontation-a battle, I

think,  with the Yuuzhan Vong. I broke the connection before

I could turn into a fatal distraction for her."

Anxiety  for  Jaina  gnawed  at  his  mind.  "Maybe  I

shouldn't  have. Maybe I should have stayed with her,  tried

to send her calm and strength."

"You  made the choice, and it was uncoerced,"  Vergere

said.  "For  you  to question such a choice  is  not  simply

useless, but harmful. Such doubts will chain the mind to  an

endless   circle   of   pointless  speculation   and   self-

recrimination. You should prepare yourself to live with  the

consequences of your decisions, whatever they may be."

"It's  different when the consequences  are  going  to

happen to your sister," Jacen said.

The diminutive Vergere hunkered down, the knobs of her

reverse-articulated knees rising strangely behind her.  "The

rise  or  fall of a civilization can depend on the  decision

made in a fragment of a second. There are many seconds in  a

day. How many seconds can you regret? How many choices?"

"Only the bad ones," Jacen said.

"And if you don't know immediately whether the decision

was  good or bad? What if you don't find out the answer  for

fifty years?"

Jacen looked at her. "Fifty years," he said. "I'm  not

even twenty. I can't imagine fifty years."

Her  tilted eyes shimmered like waves over cold,  deep

water.  There was unconquerable sadness in her voice. "Fifty

years  ago,  young Jedi, I made a decision," she said.  "The

consequences  of  that decision echo down  the  years  until

today.  And I still do not know whether the decision I  made

was the right one."

"What decision was that?" Jacen asked.

"The  decision that brought about this war." Vergere's

feathers  rippled. "I am responsible, you see, for  all  the

fighting, all the suffering, all the death. All because of a

decision I made fifty years ago, on Zonama Sekot."

Chapter 7

Zonama Sekot! (cried Vergere.) The Green Land.  Taller

than  the  tallest  tree arc the boras, with  balloon-shaped

leaves in rainbow colors, and limbs with iron tips that call

down the lightning. Deep valleys from which the morning mist

rises  in waves like ocean rollers breaking on the shore.  A

northern  hemisphere of sun and bright green, and a southern

hemisphere  hidden in a perpetual cloud that forever  cloaks

its mysteries.

Zonama, Sekot! Where mobile seeds attach themselves to

living  clients  in  their eagerness  to  be  shaped.  Where

airships bob gently amid the mountain peaks. Where the vines

and  creepers  carve  out terraces  over  which  the  bright

blossoms spill like living waterfalls. Black-haired  Ferroan

colonists  who live among the generous life  in  a  kind  of

symbiosis.  Dwellings where the walls, the  roof,  even  the

furniture  is alive. Factory valleys where boras  seeds  are

forged  into  living ships, the fastest ever to fly  between

the stars.

Zonama Sekot! Where the air itself intoxicates.  Where

transforming lightning ignites life rather than destroys it.

A  world  covered with a benevolent organism in the form  of

its own vegetation. An entire world that sings with billions

of voices a great and continual hymn to the Force.

I  had  become so besotted with the place that  I  had

almost  forgotten my mission. How hard it is to  concentrate

when  the  harmonies of Zonama Sekot sing in your ears!  How

blissful is sleep when an entire world shares with  you  its

dreams!

But  I  knew that I must remain alert. Even before  my

arrival I sensed that a great terror lurked nearby. The Jedi

Council  had learned of an intrusion of a strange enemy  and

sent  me  to find them, and also, if I could, to locate  the

fabled  Zonama Sekot. I found the second before I found  the

first,  but  from  the  behavior of the  Ferroan  natives  I

guessed that the intruders were near: the Ferroans were  too

nervous,  too  reticent.  Zonama  Sekot  was  overripe  with

secrets and about to explode.

I had come, I told the natives, to buy a ship-and this

was  true, for the Jedi Council wished to know of the living

ships that were bred in this distant world, and were willing

to  pay  for  the  knowledge. I  surrendered  my  ingots  of

aurodium in payment, and I went through their ritual. I  was

chosen by three seed-partners, spiky creatures who clung  to

my  garment  and  sang to me of the great  ship  they  would

become once transformed by the lightning and the fire.  This

caused  a sensation-no one had been chosen by three  before.

The  seed-partners  were intrigued by my connection  to  the

Force.

So for two nights the seed-partners clung to me, and I

lived  in  a  joyous trance that I shared with  them,  their

dream  of becoming. When I had my living ship, I planned  to

fly it in a search for intruders.

And then came the first strike of  the Far Outsiders.

Those  whose worlds have been subdued by  the  Yuuzhan

Vong  will  recognize  the pattern.  It  has  been  seen  at

Belkadan,  at  Sern-pidal, at Tynna, Duro, Nar  Shaddaa.  At

first  there is an invasion of a hostile life-form, a living

wind of change that sweeps across the world like a consuming

plague, scores of native species dying as the invading  life

takes  its hold. Suddenly entire regions become friendly  to

the Yuuzhan Vong, hostile to the world's own native life.

So  it became with Zonama Sekot. The Far Outsiders-the

Yuuzhan  Vong-seeded the southern hemisphere with their  own

devouring forms of life. Two complete ecosystems engaged  in

pitched battle. The beautiful, towering boras died, writhing

in their death agonies as they called the lightning to blast

the alien parasites that devoured their flesh.

Through the Force I felt the planet shudder.  From  my

dwelling  near  the factory valley, I saw the boras  tossing

their  leaves  and limbs in horror at the  battle  that  was

being  lost in the other hemisphere. The Ferroans ran  about

in  confusion  and growing panic. Even the  clouds  reacted,

flying through  the sky in fright and terror. The forging of

my ship was postponed as the entire planet mobilized to deal

with the emergency.

At  this point I revealed myself as Jedi. The reaction

of   the  Ferroans  was  strangely  ambivalent-not  hostile,

precisely, but warier than I expected. I later learned  that

they had been taught a version of Jedi doctrine, though  far

from  an orthodox one. They were believers in the Potentium,

the  doctrine that the Force is light only and that evil and

the dark side are a kind of illusion. They were afraid I had

come  to  persecute them for heresy. By the time I  appeased

their  fears, the ecological onslaught had grown to  embrace

much of the southern hemisphere.

I  was brought to meet their leader, their Magister-by

that  time  his mountain palace was besieged by  the  world-

plague.  Here, in a symbiosis with the planet that  was  his

home,  he  directed his world's defenses. And he  succeeded!

The  living  world of Zonama Sekot possesses more  resources

than   the  Yuuzhan  Vong  had  imagined.  In  the  war   of

ecosystems, Zonama Sekot began to push the enemy  back.  The

invading organisms began to die.

It  was  then  that  the Yuuzhan  Vong  attacked  with

conventional  forces.  Frigates  bombarded  the  world  from

orbit;  coralskippers descended into the atmosphere to  bomb

and  strafe.  But  Zonama Sekot again had hidden  resources,

fighters and other planetary defenses, and the Yuuzhan  Vong

were driven off. This was not, you see, an invasion such  as

the  one you know, but merely a reconnaissance in force, the

Yuuzhan Vong scouting our defenses.

I  tried  to protect the Magister, but in  the  end  I

failed him. A Yuuzhan Vong squadron attacked his palace, and

that  brave, inventive man was killed. His belief that  evil

was an illusion did not save him.

But scarcely did I have a chance to mourn the greatness

of   the  man.  His death brought forth a miracle!  I  felt,

stirring  in  the living Force, a powerful Presence-a  great

mind  uncoiling and feeling its power for the first time.  A

new  being caught in the first, astonishing moment of  self-

awareness.

That being was Zonama- Sekot! For three generations the

Magisters, with their unconventional doctrine of the  Force,

had  communed  with the living world that they believed  was

their   mythical  Potentium,  their  all-benevolent   Force.

Unknowing, they had taught the harmony that was Zonama Sekot

to realize itself as an individual. What had been an egoless

perfection  now  became a self-conscious, self-aware  being,

with  all  the  confusion and uncertainty of a new,  fragile

creature dropped suddenly into a hostile universe.

I  needed  to  give  the planet  time.  I  offered  to

negotiate  with  the enemy on its behalf,  in  the  hope  of

either turning away the attack or delaying the next assault.

Sekot  assumed  the  personality of its  dead  Magister  and

communicated  to the Yuuzhan Vong its wish  to  parley.  The

Yuuzhan Vong consented, feeling that they might gain through

intimidation what they had failed to gain through violence.

The Ferroans gave me a shuttle and a brave pilot, and I

went to speak to the Far Outsiders. They were led by Supreme

Commander Zho Krazhmir-he died in his sleep years  ago,  you

would not have heard of him.

Imagine  the scene. The air lock dilating like a living

membrane. The air that reeked of organics. The chamber  with

its  curves  and  half-melted resinous walls.  The  mass  of

Yuuzhan Vong, the commander with his staff, his priests, his

intendant. In armor, bearing weapons. All in an angry group,

a  crowd  massed  to  intimidate. A group  designed  by  Zho

Krazhmir to shock an envoy into submission.

I did not face them quite alone. My seed-partners, the

embryos  of  my future ship, were with me, clinging  to  the

robes that I had worn since the ceremony.

But  you can imagine what truly shocked me. All I  had

seen  to that point was nothing compared to the realization,

as I summoned the Force to my assistance, that I had brought

the Force into a place that was alien to the Force itself.

I  could  not  touch them with the  Force.  They  were

blank-they  were worse than blank, they were an  abyss  into

which the Force could drain forever, drain until it was  all

gone, until all existence, all life, had drained away . . .

At  first I thought that they were all Force  masters;

that they had devised ways of shielding themselves from  me.

But  as I tried again and again to pierce their defenses,  I

realized what the Yuuzhan Vong truly were.

A  sacrilege. Everything a Jedi knows is based on  the

belief-on  the  absolute, unquestioned knowledge-  that  all

life  is  a  part of the Force, that the Force is life.  But

here  were  beings whose very existence denied  this  sacred

truth.  From  the  depths of my heart I hated  them  all,  I

wished  them  blotted out. A rage rose in me,  an  anger  so

complete that I almost attacked them then and there  in  the

hope  that I could obliterate them all from the face of  the

universe.  Never  had  I been so close  to  surrendering  to

darkness.

My  anger  was  not the only anger in that  room.  The

Supreme Commander was furious because his attack had  failed

and  he had lost face before his intendant. The priests were

angry  because  I  had  flown to  them  in  a  machine  they

considered a blasphemy. The intendants were outraged because

of   the  loss of scarce materiel, which they would have  to

justify to their own superiors. The Far Outsiders were  eons

away  from  their home, and Zonama Sekot had  damaged  their

ability to survive here.

But one creature there was not angry. The mascot of the

priestess  Falung,  a feathery birdlike  thing,  only  semi-

intelligent, long-legged, and orange-yellow.

That being was the key. For I could touch it with  the

Force!  I  could feel its mind, benign, witless as a  child,

too mindless to feel the anger that surged about it.

And  it  was discovering that creature that caused  my

rage  to ebb. Perhaps the realization that the Far Outsiders

kept  pets made me realize they were not so far removed from

ourselves.  I  realized  that  within  hours  I   had   just

encountered the two extremes of the Force. Zonama Sekot  was

a  living  embodiment  of  the Force,  of  its  harmony  and

potential.  The  Far  Outsiders, on  the  other  hand,  were

creatures completely outside the Force, whom the Force could

not touch. One was a contradiction of the other!

I  wondered if it were possible for me to bring  these

two forces into balance.

But  first I had to deal with the rage of the  Yuuzhan

Vong.  Such  was their fury that it was possible that  these

mad  beings  would obliterate me on the spot, parley  or  no

parley.

Again  the priestess's mascot was the key.  Using  the

Force to influence its simple mind, I coaxed it forward.  At

my  urging it warbled. It crooned. It fell upon me as  if  I

were  a long-lost cousin, and put around me its many-jointed

wings.

The Yuuzhan Vong stared.

We  danced  together, the mascot and I. In  unison  we

stamped  and thumped and caroled. The Yuuzhan Vong,  I  saw,

had  forgotten  to be angry. They began to be  amused.  Some

even  swayed back and forth, if only slightly, to  the tempo

of our dance.

And then I made them stare. With a push of my mind,  I

sent  the  alien mascot into the air. Singing,  it  spiraled

toward  the Yuuzhan Vong and orbited the commander. Singing,

I joined it. The two of us continued our dance, sailing in a

stately  spiral  about Supreme Commander Zho  Krazhmir.  The

Yuuzhan Vong stared in utter wonder.

The  Far Outsiders were capable of anger, of violence,

of  amusement, of awe. Were they then so very different from

us? Was their very existence a blasphemy? I needed to know.

Before their wonder began to fade, I brought the dance

to an end. Zho Krazhmir grew suspicious. He demanded to know

what trick I had just played.

No trick, I replied. What you have seen is the power of

Zonama Sekot.

I told them I was not from Zonama Sekot; that I was  a

teacher who had come to the planet in order to learn of  its

wonders. I described what I could of the world, that it  was

a  glory, covered with a single great organism that formed a

single intelligent mind.

Then the Supreme Commander grew excited.

I did not know then that the Yuuzhan Vong, in their own

way,  revere  life. Not as a Jedi reveres  life,  cherishing

each  individual as a component of the Force  that  is  both

life  and greater than life, but in their own perverse  way,

the  reverence for life mixed with their own ideas  of  pain

and  death. The Yuuzhan Vong revere life in the abstract but

sacrifice  their own lives without thought. Their veneration

of  life  is  as extreme as their other beliefs, so  extreme

that  they believe nonliving tilings-droids, starships, even

simple  machines-  are a blasphemy and  an  insult  to  Yun-

Yuuzhan, their Creator.

The  Supreme  Commander  had  been  tasked  to  locate

habitable   worlds  for  the  increasing  and   increasingly

discontented   inhabitants  of  the  rapidly   deteriorating

Yuuzhan  Vong worldships. To find a living world was  beyond

his wildest dreams.

Then  the intendant pointed out that the Yuuzhan  Vong

lacked  the  resources  to launch  another  strike.  If  the

Supreme  Commander  attacked  and  was  defeated,  then  the

Yuuzhan Vong would be without sufficient means to return  to

the  great  worldships that moved between the  galaxies.  If

they  conquered the planet but took losses,  they  would  be

stuck on the planet without the resources to defend it.

The  Supreme Commander reluctantly submitted. He would

return  to  the  worldship convoy  and  inform  the  Supreme

Overlord of his discovery. He gave the order to withdraw.

It  was  then  that I had to make my decision.  I  had

bought at least a temporary peace for Zonama Sekot, but  the

mystery  of  the origin and nature of the Far Outsiders  had

yet  to  be  resolved. They were clearly  a  menace  to  the

galaxy,  to  the Jedi, and perhaps to the Force itself.  Yet

they  did not seem beyond understanding, and reacted in many

ways   as   other  sentients  do.  These  beings   were   so

extraordinary   that   my  mind  was  dizzied   with   their

strangeness.

Though I could now return to Zonama Sekot with much of

my  mission  accomplished, I knew  I  could  not  leave  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  before I had answered my  many  questions.  I

approached the priestess Falling and asked whether  I  might

stay  on  the  ship  with my "cousin"-by this  I  meant  her

pet-and she conceded. Perhaps Falung would be kind enough to

instruct me on her doctrine. In return, I would tell her  as

much as she wished to know of our own galaxy.

The  priestess  agreed, and without reference  to  the

Supreme Commander. I saw that she was powerful enough in her

own right to make these decisions.

So I was committed to remain. I returned briefly to my

shuttle,  and contacted the spirit of Sekot, who  was  still

assuming the form of the planet's dead Magister. I told  the

planet  that it was safe for now, but that it should prepare

for another, stronger assault in the future.

And  then-and this was very hard-I had to bid farewell

to  my  seed-partners. They had dreamed with me of the great

ship  that  would flash between the stars like the lightning

that  the boras drew from the skies, but this was not to be.

I  told  the  seed-partners that they had to return  to  the

planet.  I  told  them  that  a  Jedi  would  be  coming  to

Zonama-for  I  was  certain that Jedi  would  follow  in  my

footsteps  when  I did not return-and that  they  must  hold

themselves  in  readiness. I impressed upon them  a  message

that  was  to  be  delivered to that Jedi,  saying  that  an

invading  force was poised to overrun the galaxy,  that  the

Force was useless in fighting these creatures.

If  a  Jedi  came,  I  know not. If  the  message  was

delivered,  I  cannot tell. I did what seemed best,  but  in

this I may have failed somehow.

Following  this  came  the  hardest  task  of  all.  I

destroyed my lightsaber, the outward symbol of everything to

which  I had dedicated myself. I knew that the Yuuzhan  Vong

would  not  permit me to retain anything of a  technological

nature. My comlink and my few other metal objects I gave  to

the shuttle pilot who had brought me.

And  so  I bade farewell to everything I had known.  I

returned  to the Yuuzhan Vong and the priestess Falung,  and

Zho  Krazhmir's  forces  returned to  that  limitless  space

between   the  stars  where  the  Yuuzhan  Vong   worldships

traveled.

From  time to time, the Yuuzhan Vong asked to  see  me

dance  with the priestess's mascot. The mascot and I danced,

and flew- but we flew less and less, the farther we traveled

from  Zonama  Sekot. When we left the galaxy, I told  Falung

that  we  were  at such a distance that the power  of  Sekot

could  no  longer reach us, and from that  point  on  we  no

longer danced.

I did not want the Yuuzhan Vong to know that it was my

power, not Sekot's, that had created the aerial dance. I did

nor  want  the Yuuzhan Vong even to consider the possibility

that I had any power of my own.

For  his  action in discovering Zonama Sekot,  Supreme

Commander  Zho Krazhmir was granted a new leg implant  as  a

reward. He did not make a good recovery, and was dead  in  a

few years.

Falung, priestess of Yun-Harla, instructed me  in  the

religion of the Yuuzhan Vong and in particular the mythology

of Yun-Harla herself.

Yun-Harla the Trickster is never visible. Her body  is

made  of borrowed parts, and cloaked in borrowed skin.  Over

the  borrowed  skin  are garments designed  to  deceive  and

deflect. Yun-Harla herself is never seen. Only her spirit is

to be found working in the world, laying traps and deceiving

the unwary.

As Yun-Harla is, so I became. I became cloaked, as  it

were,  in  borrowed garments, in my assumed  identity  as  a

simple teacher eager to learn the True Way. My weapons  were

those  I could borrow or adapt from my opponents, those  and

my own cunning. My Force abilities I learned to keep hidden,

even from telepathic creatures such as yammosks. I meditated

upon Yun-Harla every day- every day for fifty years.

I  turned my true self completely inward. It  required

little  effort  to maintain my identity as the  familiar  of

Falung  the  priestess,  in part because  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

expect so little from a familiar. But in my mind I built  my

home.  There,  I  could consider the matter of  the  Yuuzhan

Vong,  and contemplate the Force. In my mind I learned  true

freedom.

In my conversations with Falung I tried to suggest the

key Jedi principle of the unity of life, and somewhat to  my

surprise she agreed with me. All life, she explained, was  a

part  of  Yun-Yuuzhan,  who  created  it  through  his   own

sacrifice,  tearing himself into bits and  flinging  himself

through the universe to spawn all existence.

Though  the reverence for life was real,  it  was  not

possible to separate it from the Yuuzhan Vong obsession with

pain and death.

Others  than  Falung  questioned  me,  but  not  about

philosophical matters-as far as they were concerned we  were

all  infidels, and our beliefs were of no possible interest.

The information that truly interested them was of a military

and political nature.

I  agonized over what I would tell them. Should I tell

them  the  Republic  was unprepared, in the  hope  that  the

Yuuzhan Vong would attack prematurely, carelessly, and  with

overconfidence?  Or  should I suggest  that  the  Republic's

defenses were invincible, and force the Yuuzhan Vong to make

elaborate,  thorough preparations that I hoped  other  Jedi,

following  in  my footsteps and warned by my message,  would

detect?

In  the  end I dared not lie to them. I knew not  what

other  sources of information were available to them. But  I

could  feign  ignorance-I had assured them I  was  a  simple

teacher, no authority on the defenses of the Republic.

I  was not in a position to influence the Yuuzhan Vong

for  good or ill. Falung died, and I became the property  of

her  junior,  Elan,  who was not in  a  position  to  affect

policy.

And  so  the war began, and it began the  way  it  did

because  of the decisions I made fifty years ago, at  Zonama

Sekot. Because I danced in the air, and proclaimed my  power

the power of a world.

Was  I  wrong  to do so? Right? And if it  was  wrong,

should  I  have  spent the last fifty years in  sadness  and

recrimination,  fearing to act in  the  event  that  I  made

another mistake?

I  chose.  I  acted. And then I resolved to  face  the

consequences. Tell me then, young Jedi-was I wrong?

Chapter 8

Jacen  heard Vergere's story in silence as he squatted

on his heels on the resinous floor of the coral ship. He did

not answer her question, but instead asked a question of his

own.

"Where  is Zonama Sekot? I've never heard of a  living

planet."

Vergere shrugged her narrow shoulders. "It left,"  she

said simply.

Jacen stared at her.

"I  felt Sekot's good-bye. I had saved it once, but  I

sensed  it was under a new threat. The planet had hyperdrive

engines-it  was  capable  of going into  hyperspace.  So  it

fled."

Jacen blinked. "Where did it go?"

"I  remind you that I have been away for a  number  of

years. I will not venture to guess."

Jacen  rubbed his chin. "One hears stories of  planets

that  move.  But usually in the same tapcafs, and  from  the

same people, who tell you of the Cursed Palace of Zabba Two,

or  old  Admiral Fancy's ghost ship that plies  the  Daragon

Trail."

Vergere gave a sniff. "I do not venture into tapcafs. I

would not hear such stories."

Jacen  gave a quiet smile. "No. You venture into  more

dangerous places than bars."

Vergere's crest feathers rippled. "You did not  answer

my question. Did I do wrong on Zonama Sekot? Or did I not?"

"What I think," Jacen said, "is that I'm still worried

about  my  sister." He knew perfectly well that Vergere  had

told  her  story at this moment partly in order to  distract

him from his anxiety over Jaina.

Vergere made a sound somewhere between a snort  and  a

sneeze.  She  straightened her legs and reared to  her  full

height  of  slightly over a meter. "You haven't been  paying

attention!"

"I  have.  I'm still thinking about it. But  I'm  also

still concerned about Jaina."

Vergere made the noise again. Jacen's thoughts returned

to  the mystery of the vanished planet.

"I've never heard of Zonama Sekot by that name. And if

your  warning ever reached the Jedi Council, I haven't heard

of  it-but then it's not likely I would have. We haven't had

a Jedi Council in more than a generation."

"What became of it, then?" Vergere paced back and forth

before Jacen, the patchy feathers on her frame fluffing  and

then  smoothing  again. "Perhaps you can tell  me  what  has

happened  to  the Republic in my absence. Tell  me  why  the

thousands of Jedi Knights I expected to contact on my return

no longer exist, why there are only a few score half-trained

young  Jedi in their place, and what all of this has  to  do

with  this Sith Lord you mentioned on Coruscant, this Vader,

your  grandfather, whom I remember as that turbulent  little

Padawan, Anakin Skywalker."

Crouching, Jacen watched Vergere's agitated pacing. He

shook  his  head and gave a laugh. "Well," he  said,  "you'd

better sit down again, because this is a very long story."

This  time  Vergere sat in silence while Jacen  spoke.

When  he  was  done  with  his  bare  narrative,  she  asked

questions, and Jacen replied as completely as he  could.  At

the end, they were both silent for a long, long moment.

Finally  Jacen broke the silence. "May I  worry  about

Jaina now?"

"No, you may not."

"Why not?"

Vergere  straightened and approached the coral  ship's

little  control station. "Best to worry for ourselves,"  she

said. "We're about to fall out of hyperspace. When we arrive

in realspace, we'll be near a well-defended world of the New

Republic, guarded by fighters very jumpy after the  fall  of

Coruscant. We are in a Yuuzhan Vong vessel, with no means of

contacting  these trigger-happy defenders, and  we  have  no

defenses and no weapons."

Jacen looked at her. "What do you suggest we do?"

Vergere's  feathery  crest  gave  a  little  flutter.

"Foolish  question,"  she  said. "Naturally,  we  trust  the

Force."

Chapter 9

Surrounded  by rainbows, the great shadow descended  in

majesty  from  the sky. Like the wings of a  butterfly  just

emerged from its cocoon, enormous wings slowly unfolded from

the great craft. Rainbow colors pulsed and swam.

"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" The roar came from ten thousand

throats.  The perfect rectangular formation of warriors,  in

their  vonduun  crab  armor, raised  their  amphistaffs  and

roared  their  battle cry as the shadow of the craft  passed

over them.

"Taan Yun-forqana zhoi!" Ten thousand priests, in  red

cloaks  emblazoned  with the symbol of Yun-Yuuzhan,  crossed

their  arms  in  salute  and roared their  devotion  as  the

vessel's shadow enveloped them.

"Fy'y  Roog! Fy'y Roog!" Ten thousand members  of  the

shaper  class,  dressed  in stainless  white,  howled  their

pride,  fear, and obedience as the belly of the great  craft

passed over them.

Beyond the three giant formations of priests, warriors,

and  shapers, massed workers cried nothing, but simply flung

themselves onto their faces, groveling in submission to  the

great shadow as it passed before the sun.

Shamed Ones, mutilated and crippled and barred from the

ceremony,  hid in their barracks or workhouses and  shivered

in fear.

The smallest group, the twelve hundred members of  the

intendant  class, stood motionless in three  long  lines  in

front  of the three larger formations of Yuuzhan Vong,  each

member  in  his  long green cloak. They did not  shout,  but

stood  in  perfectly disciplined silence, arms crossed  over

their chests, as the massive craft moved silently overhead.

If  we  had  a battle cry, thought Nom Anor  from  the

second  rank,  it would probably be Have you  triple-checked

this  order  with your superiors'? For it was the intendants

who  administered  the new empire of the Yuuzhan  Vong,  and

tried  to  balance the competing claims for resources  among

the  other castes. A task that grew harder, it seemed,  even

as  victory  followed  victory  and  more  resources  became

available.

For  years now, since before the time he had  poisoned

Imperial  Interim Ruling Council members  in  the  cause  of

Xandel Carivus, Nom Anor had been living among the enemy  as

a  spy and saboteur. In  the service of the Yuuzhan Vong, he

had  spun  his  treachery and left a trail of bodies  across

half the galaxy.

It had almost been enough to forget that the normal job

of an intendant was a bureaucratic one.

Rainbows spiraled off the craft's great unfolded wings,

dovin basals with their space-warping capabilities tuned  to

the  spectrum  of light. The great shadow hovered  over  the

massive  cradle  that had been built for  it,  then  slowly,

majestically, descended.

Another  great  cry  roared up  from   the  triumphant

multitude as  the huge craft settled into its cradle like  a

monarch  slowly  sitting on his throne.  Dazzling,  spinning

rainbows  reached  into  the heavens, cast  brilliant  light

onto  the  plaza  where   the Yuuzhan  Vong  masses  waited.

Beneath  the ship, hidden from view,  the living  craft  and

the  living  cradle joined, linking power and communications

and  resource  systems  so  that  the  craft  now  drew  its

nourishment from the planet, and the Supreme Overlord was in

direct  contact  with  the  World Brain,  the  dhuryam  that

controlled  the remaking of Yuuzhan'tar, formerly  known  as

Coruscant, capital of both the New and Old Republics.

The  Supreme Overlord's craft, ship and palace in one,

was  now  joined  with  its cradle, just  as  the  spaceborn

Yuuzhan  Vong  had  settled onto the conquered  worlds  that

their  gods  had promised diem. The craft would remain  here

permanently, its rainbow-edged wings outstretched over  this

world  the  Yuuzhan Vong had conquered. The conquered  world

would  be  altered  from  the bedrock up  to  re-create  the

legendary  homeworld of the Yuuzhan Vong, lost long  ago  in

another galaxy.

At the moment the shout went up, Nom Anor began to feel

an itching at  the base of his toes. He resisted the impulse

to  bend and scratch, or to scrape one boot over the  other.

The  Yuuzhan  Vong  did  not  regard  bodily  discomfort  as

significant.  Only those who had most successfully  embraced

pain  and  mutilation were promoted to the highest  degrees.

Surely an itch could be overcome.

As  if to dispute this claim,  the itch increased  its

fury. Nom Anor found that it was all he could do to keep his

mind  on   the ceremony, on  the ritual steps and obeisances

that  prepared  the way for the appearance  of  the  Supreme

Overlord.

He  panted  with  the effort to ignore  the  itch.  He

alternately  stretched  and clenched  his  toes  inside  his

boots,  hoping   the effort might relieve  his  torment.  It

didn't.

Another  roar  went  up from the  crowd.  Through  his

single, rainbow-dazzled eye, Nom Anor saw two figures on the

summit of the great building.

Shimrra's personal quarters arched up above  the plaza

like  a head on  the end of a long neck. At  the apex was  a

circular  walkway surrounded by a rail that  glittered  like

mother-of-pearl  in the artificial rainbows.  Standing  amid

the  brilliance  was Supreme Overlord Shimrra,  unquestioned

leader of the Yuuzhan Vong, sanctioned by the gods to  bring

all these new worlds under his heel. Norn Anor's eye was  so

dazzled by rainbows that he could see nothing of Shimrra but

a  silhouette--a giant silhouette, towering over  the  bent,

ungainly figure next to him. Onimi, apparently, a member  of

the Shamed Ones whom the Supreme Overlord had adopted as his

familiar.

As  Shimrra's  loyal subjects bellowed their  triumph,

several  mon  duuls  waddled out  from  the  shadow  of  the

building. Giant, placid beings weighing four metric tons  or

more,  the  creatures had been implanted  with  specialized,

dedicated  villips  by  the shapers who  had  crafted  them,

villips that enabled them to receive communications  from  a

master  villip  employed by the Supreme Overlord.  Each  mon

duul,  on  receiving a message, could then broadcast  it  to

others  in its vicinity through the use of a giant two-meter

tympanum of skin that stretched over its belly.

The mon duuls spread out over  the plaza, then sat back

on   their  haunches,  their  tympani  directed  toward  the

formations  of  Yuuzhan  Vong. Nom Anor  could  hear  joints

cracking  as  the  nearest of the massive creatures  settled

itself into an upright posture.

The Supreme Overlord's voice, amplified by the tympani

in  the  mon duuls, echoed and reechoed over the plaza,  and

for a moment Nom Anor forgot his aggravating itch.

"Yuuzhan  Vong,  conquerors,  blessed  of  the  gods!

"Shimrra. roared. ccWe have come to the turning point!"

Luke  found out the next afternoon why Fyor Rodan  had

behaved in such an extraordinary way at their meeting. Rodan

hadn't  been  having a conversation; he'd been rehearsing  a

speech.

"He  laid  it all out before the Senate this morning,"

Cal  Omas said. "His whole program-the Jedi shouldn't  be  a

privileged  group within the state, we should stop  spending

money  on  Jedi  concerns, a new Jedi  Council  would  be  a

threat. . ."

"Jedi  should  just get jobs like every other  working

stiff," Mara added. Cal laughed.

"How was the speech received?" Luke asked.

Cal  Omas clasped his lanky arms behind his  head.  "I

imagine  it went down well with the working stiffs.  As  for

the Senators, some agreed, some didn't, some saw it only  in

political terms. Since Fyor made no motion, just stood up in

the  Senate  and  gave his speech and made sure  there  were

plenty  of reporters there to cover it, there wasn't a  head

count one way or another."

"So why did he make the speech at all?"

Triebakk,  the Wookiee who served with both  Omas  and

Rodan  on the Advisory Council, gave a long series of roars,

all  translated by the elderly protocol droid that Cal  used

for  a  secretary. "He spoke in order to make  the  Jedi  an

issue  in  the upcoming election. Now that he has  made  his

speech, Cal and the other candidates arc forced to respond."

"Whether they want to or not," Luke said.

"Precisely," Cal said. "Fyor's started up a tune,  and

the rest of us will have to dance to it."

Cal Omas's apartment was cramped and underwater, though

built  with  the  usual  Mon Calamari attention  to  elegant

design,  which made it seem larger than it actually  was.  A

transparent  wall  looked  out onto  the  floodlit  inverted

cityscape  of  Heurkea Floating City, showing Mon  Cals  and

Quarren  swimming  past  or jetting by  in  their  vehicles.

Unfortunately, the transparent wall sweated heavily, the air

was  dank and tasted of brine, the carpet was soggy, and the

small  sofa  that Luke and Mara shared gave off  a  distinct

smell of mildew. There was no security. Cal's protocol droid

was  beginning to show rust stains. Still, Cal's  place  was

better than most refugees' quarters, and a testimony to  his

character-he  had  refused to pull rank  and  demand  better

quarters for himself.

Such were the circumstances of the man whom Luke hoped

would be the next Chief of State of  the New Republic.  Even

Fyor  Rodan's  cramped, overflowing  hotel  suite  was  more

impressive than this.

"I made a response to Fyor's speech," Cal went on.  "I

said  that anyone who had fought alongside the Jedi  in  the

war  against Palpatine would never believe that they were  a

threat  to the rest of us, and that it was unfortunate  that

Rodan lacked the experience."

Triebakk gave a howl of appreciation.

"Clever," Mara said. "Good to point out that while you

were  fighting for the freedom of the galaxy, Rodan was  off

selling protocol droids to Lurrians, or whatever."

"That  didn't end it, though," Cal said.  "CZ-Twelve-R

here," nodding at his protocol droid, "has been swamped with

messages  from reporters wanting to know the details  of  my

'Jedi program.' "

"And of course," Luke said, "we don't know what that is

yet."

"I'm afraid not." Cal leaned his long body forward  in

his  chair and looked at Luke. "I'd like to reestablish  the

Jedi  Council, of course, but I don't know if  it's  a  good

idea to say so."

"When all else fails," Mara advised, "fall back on the

truth."

Cal  Omas  gave  a  look of mock horror.  "No!  I'm  a

politician! I can't tell the truth!"

"Seriously, Cal," Mara said, "what can you say?"

Cal Omas hesitated.

"Suppose," Luke offered, "you say that you will  bring

the  Jedi  firmly  under the control of the government.  You

don't have to specify how."

"I'll have to give some details," Cal said. "Otherwise

it'll seem as if I don't really have a plan at all, and that

would  be  uncomfortably close to the truth, which"-with  an

amused  glance at Mara- "as a politician I absolutely cannot

speak."

He frowned. "Luke, can you tell me how the Jedi Council

was  set  up  in the past? If we know how it used  to  work,

maybe we can make it work again."

"The Jedi Council was a dozen or so respected Masters,"

Luke  said, "who oversaw the other Jedi and their  training,

and   who  reported  to  the  Supreme  Chancellor.  If   the

Chancellor  saw a problem that required Jedi  abilities,  he

would  inform the Council, who would send Jedi to deal  with

it.  Usually not many, because it was well known that behind

the  first Jedi were a few thousand more. And I imagine that

information  went  both ways-that the Jedi themselves  would

alert  the  Supreme  Chancellor  if  their  own  network  of

contacts pointed to a problem somewhere."

"A  few thousand Jedi," Cal mused, "to cover an entire

galaxy."

Mara gave a smug smile. "We're good" she said.

"But there are somewhat less than a few thousand of you

now,"  Cal said. "Which is why we now have a military and  a

diplomatic  service and so on. So how do  I  counter  Fyor's

contention that you're redundant?"

"Well," Mara said, "what happens if you need a diplomat

who  can  also practice philosophy, fight with a lightsaber,

and  levitate small objects? Who else arc you going to  call

but us?"

Triebakk gave a snarl of amusement. Luke felt a kind of

bliss  sing  through his heart at the fact that  Mara  could

joke again, and he put an affectionate arm around her, after

which  he  decided to ignore the scent of mildew  that  rose

from the pillows.

"Mara has a point," he said. "We provide a specialized

service- all-arounders, if you like."

"The  Council of All-Arounders." Cal Omas  sighed.  "I

don't think we're getting anywhere."

"Not  the  Council of All-Arounders," Luke said.  "The

Chief  of State's Special Investigative Service. Your  eyes,

ears,  and  sword arm throughout the galaxy. When  you  need

more muscle than a diplomat, and less than a battle cruiser,

you send us."

Cal's   eyes  brightened.  "I  think  you're  getting

somewhere," he said. "But there are still problems with that

scenario.  Either they're going to say that you're  secretly

controlling  me  and I'm your puppet, or  they're  going  to

claim you're a bunch of superpowered clandestine agents whom

I'm  going to use to subvert the constitution. Probably Fyor

will  manage  to  say  both  things  at  once."  He  sighed.

"Unfortunately,   we're   snick   with   a   constitutional,

representative,     multibranched    government,     heavily

scrutinized  by a self-interested media. We're  inefficient,

divided,   and   prey   to  conflicting  and   contradictory

interests-  even,  and  perhaps especially,  in  moments  of

crisis."

Triebakk gave a low moan.

Luke gave Triebakk a sharp look. "No," he said. "Never

even think of sympathizing with Palpatine."

Triebakk  conceded with a graceful bow of  his  shaggy

head.

But even as he spoke to Triebakk, Cal's words seemed to

echo  for  a  long  moment in Luke's  mind.  Constitutional,

representative,  multibranched ... As opposed  to  what?  he

wondered.  Elite,  clandestine, autocratic,  threat  to  the

constitution.

The old Jedi had personified the rule of order and  the

will of the state. But they were also secretive, and removed

from the people and their representatives. Their link to the

outside  was  through  the Supreme Chancellor,  and  once  a

malevolent figure like Palpatine became Chancellor, with his

disciple among the Jedi, the Jedi were cut off by the secret

enemy, isolated, and destroyed.

The Jedi should never be so isolated again.

He became aware that the others were staring at him.

"Another message from the beyond?" Mara asked.

Luke smiled. "No. At least I don't think so."

"What, then?"

"I  think I've worked out how to reestablish  the Jedi

Council in a way that will disarm Fyor Rodan."

Cal leaned forward. "Tell," he said.

"I  had a nagging feeling when I was listening to Fyor

Rodan  yesterday," Luke began. "The nagging feeling I  had,"

he  continued, "was that Rodan was right, in a way.  We  are

doing  the jobs that other people are being paid to  do.  We

are asking the government for privileges, and we're asking a

great  deal of people to believe that we ask in all humility

and  mean no harm-yet all they have to do is remember  Darth

Vader, and they'll suspect the contrary."

"And your solution?" Cal looked deeply intrigued.

"Suppose the council isn't composed entirely of Jedi,"

Luke  said.  "We  can  have  one member  from  each  of  the

government branches that might feel threatened by us. Say we

have  a  Senator  chosen  by the Senate.  Someone  from  the

Defense  Force. Another representative from the Ministry  of

State,  and another from the Justice Council to make certain

we  stay  within  the  law. Rodan would  have  a  hard  time

convincing people that all those representatives  were  Jedi

puppets. Especially if the Chief of State himself was on the

council as well."

"The Chief of State or his ambassador," Cal said. "The

Chief of State is a busy person."

"Conceded."

Cal  frowned as he considered the matter. "You've just

given  me  quite a list. That's five non-Jedi  on  the  Jedi

Council."

"Six,"  Luke corrected, on second thought. "We'd  also

need someone from the Intelligence division."

"And how many Jedi?" Cal asked. "If we make the council

too  large,  we'll  start having the same  problems  as  the

Senate-it'll be too big to be effective."

"Six Jedi," Luke said. "That will bring the government

representatives into balance with the Jedi."

Cal's  long  face grew abstract as he  considered  the

implications of the new idea. "That's giving up a lot of the

traditional Jedi power," he said.

"It's power we've already lost," Luke said. "We lost it

when the old Jedi fell."

Gal's  eyes  focused, searching Luke's  face.  "You're

sure? You're sure that you're comfortable departing this far

from Jedi tradition?"

Luke felt an utter certainty in his answer. "On Ithor,

I  surrendered  the guardianship of the Jedi tradition.  I'm

content with the idea."

Triebakk gave a triumphant roar.

"And   you'd  be  welcome  as  the  first  Senatorial

representative," Luke replied. "But the Senate  would  still

have to vote on your nomination."

"And  there  would have to be security and  background

checks and so on." Cal continued to think out loud.

Triebakk snarled a reference to the late Viqi Shesh.

"I-" Luke began. And then he felt a touch on his mind,

and again he thought, Jacen!

Jacen's presence sang in his head.

"I think we've got another brainstorm here," Mara said.

Her  voice  seemed  to  be  coming  from  a  distant  place,

somewhere outside the universe.

"I  thought I had sent you to your death," Luke  said.

Dimly  he was aware of the shock and sudden concern  of  the

others  in the room as they reacted to the words he'd spoken

out loud-but not to them.

It   was   Jacen   all  right-Luke   recognized   the

ingenuousness,  the dry earnestness. But  Jacen  wasn't  all

that  Luke  sensed.  Hovering remotely in  the  Force,  Luke

perceived   another  presence,  one  who   seemed   entirely

unfamiliar.

"Is someone else there?" Luke asked.

Vergere. It wasn't a name that floated to him,  but  a

thought, an image, a presence.

Luke   took  a  breath  at  this  direct,  surprising

confirmation.  He  had never met the alien  personally,  but

he'd  been  briefed about her, and had also heard  from  Han

about the defection she'd once staged from the Yuuzhan Vong,

along with her redefection in the opposite direction.

He had every reason to be suspicious of Vergere. But on

the  other hand, Vergere, through her tears, had healed Mara

of  the disease that had threatened her life. It was Vergere

who  was  responsible for Mara returning from  the  serious,

focused,  almost grim person she had become to the laughing,

spontaneous woman she had once been, and now was again.

What Luke hadn't known was that Vergere was strong  in

the Force. He could feel her power, restrained at the moment

but  perfectly  genuine.  And it was strangely  cloaked-even

though  they  were in telepathic contact, Luke could  detect

nothing  of  Vergere's personality or purpose. That  bespoke

training-Vergere was no mere Force-sensitive with  a  talent

for telepathy; she had been carefully educated.

But  where had she received such training? Not at  his

Jedi   academy.   And   that   left   a   number   of   dark

alternatives-Palpatine, Vader, the Shadow Academy.  But  why

would a Dark Jedi bring Jacen to Luke?

More impressions came from Jacen. A Yuuzhan Vong craft,

with  its  organic  scent  and resinous  walls.  Alarm.  New

Republic ships moving in swarms.

Luke broke contact and turned to his three friends, all

of whom were gazing at him with deep concern.

"The  short  version," he prefaced. "Jacen  Solo  just

contacted  me through the Force. He's in the Mon Cal  system

in  a  Yuuzhan Vong escape pod, and we've got  to  stop  the

military from blowing him up."

Cal's response was immediate. He turned to his protocol

droid  and  said,  "Call Fleet Command-priority  urgent  and

immediate.  Place  another  urgent  and  immediate  call  to

Supreme Commander Sien Sow."

"Yes, Councilor," the droid said.

Cal turned back to Luke. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll

get him back."

But Luke was already reaching into the Force, his mind

stretching out into the great void beyond. Alongside him  he

felt  the  spirit of his wife, her strength supporting  his,

striving  through  the  darkness  of  space  for  his   lost

apprentice.

Chapter 10

Nom  Anor forgot his itch as he filed into the Hall  of

Confluence behind his superior, High Prefect Yoog Skell. The

hall  was magnificent, broad at the four palpating doors  by

which   high-ranking  members  of  the  four  ruling  castes

entered,  then narrowing as it approached the far  end.  The

room  was  a trompe l'oeil, designed so that all  eyes  were

drawn  toward an artificial vanishing point, at which  point

was the seat of the Supreme Overlord.

The walls were chitin marbled black and white; pillars

of white bone supported the roof, and coral spread pale lace

over  the  arches of the ceiling. Though the planes  of  the

room  were  flat, the dovin basals that provided the  room's

artificial  gravity were tweaked slightly so as  to  provide

the  sense  of walking uphill as one approached the  Supreme

Overlord;  it felt as if he sat at a summit, and all  others

toiled upward toward him.

At  the focus of all eyes was the largest Yuuzhan Vong

that  Nom  Anor had ever seen, a giant even among  the  most

massive  warriors.  Shimrra sat in  silence  on  a  bloodred

throne of yorik coral that thrust spines and spikes from its

central  mass,  as if warding an enemy from  the  Overlord's

presence.  His  ceremonial  robes  were  somber,  black  and

gray-the gray was leather, the carefully preserved flesh  of

Steng,  who in the distant past had lost the Cremlevian  War

to  Yo'gand, the first Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong.

Shimrra's  massive head was so covered with scars,  slashes,

tattoos,  and the marks of branding that he could barely  be

said to have a face at all, just a torn collection of barely

healed wounds. But fierce, discerning intelligence could  be

seen  behind  the  glowing  mqaaq'it  implants  in  his  eye

sockets,  which shifted through the spectrum as  he  watched

the dignitaries enter.

Crouched  at  the feet of Shimrra was a  lanky  figure

dressed in rags that hung in shreds on his flabby skin,  his

lip  curled back over his teeth to show one yellow fang. His

skull  was  misshapen,  with  one  lobe  swollen.  Shimrra's

familiar, Onimi.

The  dignitaries plodded-"uphill"-toward  Shimrra  and

took  their places, each of the four castes equidistant from

the  throne. Shimrra loomed over them, and for once this was

not   a  trick  of  the  gravity-the  Supreme  Overlord  was

enormous.  All  prostrated themselves, and  then  in  mighty

voice chanted their salutation.

"Ai' tanna Shimrra khotte Yun'o!" Long life to Shimrra,

beloved of the gods!

A  deep  rumble came from the throne. Norn Anor  could

barely see Shimrra's lips move as he spoke.

"Let the Great Council be seated."

The  leading members rose to their feet and took their

seats,  which had been adjusted so as to compensate for  the

room's peculiar gravity.

Nom Anor rose and then remained on his feet. He did not

rate a chair in the Supreme Overlord's presence.

Standing  across  the room Nom  Anor  saw  the  priest

Harrar,   with   whom   he   had  shared   several   serious

misjudgments.

Harrar  gave  no sign of knowing him. Good,  Nom  Anor

thought. Let all that be forgotten.

He  shifted on his feet, propping himself against  the

gravity  that  made  him  lean to his  right.  The  movement

triggered the itching again, and Nom Anor clenched his teeth

against  the  blaze  of sensation. The  itching  had  spread

across  his  belly and under one armpit, and it felt  as  if

half  his  skin were aflame. His ringers twitched  with  the

urge to scratch, and he forced them straight.

The  Shamed One, Onimi, rose to his feet. "Great lords

all," he began,

"-whose plans profound

Have put our feet on solid ground.

I hope you will not think it crime

If for this day I speak in rhyme."

Onimi  paused for an answer, mismatched eyes  scanning

the  crowd. As if anyone would object. Shimrra's  status  as

Supreme Overlord was unquestioned, and a reflection  of  his

power  was that he had actually adopted a Shamed One as  his

familiar,  a grotesque, twisted being who had been  rejected

by  the  gods.  Shimrra permitted his familiar extraordinary

liberties,  and  to all appearances enjoyed  the  creature's

grotesque capers as well as the discomfort they caused among

onlookers.

After the pause, Onimi raised his arms and performed a

lurching pirouette, spinning to display the rags he wore.

"Permit me to recite an ode

To raiment new, this latest mode.

For like my lord, I glory in

My garments made of foemen's skin."

Surprise flashed through Nom Anor as he realized  that

Onimi's  rags  were  the remnants of New  Republic  uniforms

taken from those who had fallen at Coruscant.

There  were  intakes of breath around the  chamber  as

others realized this as well.

Onimi capered on, shambling near High Priest Jakan, who

hissed and drew back so that none of the whirling rags could

contaminate him. Shamed Ones had been rejected by  the  gods

themselves,  damned  to  all the contempt  and  hatred  they

surely deserved.

"Enough." The single word came from Shimrra,  and  was

sufficient  for Onimi to fall silent, a glimmer of  fear  in

his eyes.

"Back to your place, creature," Shimrra growled.  "Our

meeting  will be long enough without having to  endure  your

capers."

The  Overlord's  familiar  cringed  in  apology,  then

dragged himself back to the throne and dropped like  a  sack

of  bones  at his master's feet. Shimrra's head turned  left

and right, viewing all the delegates in turn.

Then he turned his massive body toward Tsavong Lan. "I

should  like to discuss the prosecution of the war. What  do

you have to say, Warmaster?"

Tsavong Lah's hand formed a fist, which he brought down

with  a crash on the arm of his chair. "I have but one  word

to say, and that word is Victory!" His delegation growled in

agreement.  "The  enemy  capital  is  ours,"  the  warmaster

continued, "and you have taken formal possession of  it!  We

followed  the  capture of Yuuzhan'tar with  our  victory  at

Borleias! Supreme Commander Nas Choka's fleet does  well  in

Hutt  space.  With  the  exception of the  unfortunate  Komm

Karsh, our forces have been victorious everywhere."

Onimi,  at  the overlord's feet, gave a little  giggle

that echoed strangely in the room's cavernous spaces.

The warmaster bared his teeth. Shimrra gave a rumble of

warning to Onimi at his impudence, and then his gaze settled

on Tsavong Lah.

"Onimi may spawn wretched doggerel," he said, "but  he

has a point. Your attempt to capture Jaina Solo at Hapes was

a complete failure."

Having no choice but to acknowledge his defeat, Tsavong

Lah bowed his head. "I confess it."

"And  the  casualties  we  took  for  the  capture  of

Yuuzhan'tar  were enormous. The first two waves  were  wiped

out,  and  the third wave, though victorious, was decimated.

After  that, Borleias was a very expensive victory-more,  in

my  judgment,  than the planet was worth.  Your  own  father

died.  Plus Komm Karsh's defeat was expensive in both  lives

and materiel. I am not as lenient as my predecessor."

A  fanatic gleam entered Tsavong Lah's eyes. "We would

give  these lives again, and more!" he said. "Life  is  less

than nothing! What is a warrior's life compared to the glory

of the Yuuzhan Vong?"

Shimrra's  answer was sharp. "I do  not  dispute  your

warriors'  glory, or their willingness to die! That  is  not

what is at issue."

"I  beg  the  Supreme Overlord's pardon," Tsavong  Lah

said. "I did not understand-"

"Do  not assume that I am a fool!" Shimrra barked.  He

pointed  at  Tsavong Lah. "You have won  your  victories  by

sending your troops over a rampart of our own dead!  How  do

you intend to replace these casualties?"

Nom  Anor  gloated at the sight of Shimrra taking  the

warmaster to task for his failings. He and Tsavong  Lah  had

butted heads often enough, and it did his heart good to  see

the warrior taken down a few steps in front of his rivals.

"My  lord-I-"  The warmaster was at a  loss.  "I  have

fulfilled  all our primary objectives-I have given  you  the

capital-"

"We may grow more warships, but warriors must be bred"

Shimrra said. "It will take a generation or more before  our

formations  stand again at full strength, and  we  now  have

many worlds to defend."

"I  will give you more victories!" Tsavong Lah  cried.

"The infidels are routed! If I follow up our victories, they

will break!"

The  warmaster  was interrupted by yet another  giggle

from Onimi. "The warmaster is not listening! He needs a  new

pair  of ears-or perhaps instead the organ that lies between

them."

A  hiss  of  fury escaped his throat  as  Tsavong  Lah

glowered at Onimi.

"Silence." Again the word came from Shimrra. Though the

Overlord's  tone  was  soft, the room's admirable  acoustics

made  the  word  sing  in the air. A hush  followed,  though

Tsavong Lah seemed visibly to be choking on his words as  he

again bowed before his superior.

The Supreme Overlord spoke on. "You ask to follow  the

enemy.  I  have read our strength reports. We  do  not  have

sufficient forces both to maintain the offensive and to hold

what we have already taken."

"My Lord." Tsavong Lah kept his head bowed. "With  all

respect-we pursue a broken foe. We may expect nothing but  a

glorious slaughter that adds great glory to your name."

Shimrra's voice was icy. "The enemy that wiped out Komm

Karsh was hardly broken. And may I remind the warmaster that

Komm Karsh's fleet was our sole strategic reserve? From this

point,  moving  any  warrior to strengthen  one  force  will

weaken another."

Tsavong Lah had no answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the

ground.

"Our forces will break off offensive operations for the

present," Shimrra said. "We may resume the offensive once we

conclude  a  reorganization that brings more  warriors  into

the field."

"As the Supreme One wishes." Tsavong Lah's voice was a

barely audible hiss.

"I  wish  it."  Shimrra's glowing gaze rose  from  the

warmaster and swept over the room. "Many of our warriors are

tied  down in garrison and pacification duties far from  the

front.  I  wish  to  liberate them for  combat  against  the

infidels."  His eyes sought out the delegation  of  shapers,

who had until this point remained silent.

"I require you to create more warriors," he said.

Ch'Gang  Hool, master of Domain Hool, a  shaper  clan,

responded  quickly. "The Supreme Overlord refers  to  surge-

coral implants?"

"Yes. Captives will be given implants enabling them to

receive the commands of a yammosk. They will then be  placed

under  the  command of warriors." Shimrra  turned  again  to

Tsavong  Lah.  "Thus will you have larger  forces  to  bring

against the infidels."

"I am grateful, God-Chosen."

Nom Anor couldn't help but observe that gratitude  did

not seem foremost in the warmaster's mind.

"If   the  warriors  are  not  wasted"  Shimrra  said

pointedly,  "these  measures should  serve  to  correct  the

problem  for the short term. In order to make up our  losses

in the long term, I command the following:

"All warriors will now be ordered to breed at the  age

of  sixteen, if they have not already. If no mate chooses  a

given  warrior, his or her commander will award  a  suitable

mate  from  the  warriors available. Afterward,  awards  and

incentives  will  be  devised to reward  those  who  produce

children."

Tsavong  Lah  bowed again. "It shall be as  you  wish,

Supreme One."

"Nothing  shall  be as I wish if we continue  to  lose

battles,"  Shimrra reminded. "The enemy have  developed  new

tactics that enable them to gain victories. I command a full

report."

Tsavong Lah at last raised his head. "The infidels have

discovered a way to use a ... machine to override the signal

sent to our units by the yammosks. Our units arc thus forced

to operate on their own, without strategic guidance."

"And the remedy?" Shimrra's question was prompt.

The warmaster hesitated. "We have not developed one as

yet,

Supreme One. We are-we have discussed the problem-" He

hesitated  again.  "The  fact is,  Supreme  One,  that  this

development is unprecedented in our history, and-"

"You are baffled," Shimrra said.

Again  the warmaster bowed. Nom Anor felt a  surge  of

gloating pleasure.

"I confess it," Tsavong Lah said. "My life in payment."

Shimrra turned again to the shapers. "Has  the  shaper

caste any suggestions?"

This  time Ch'Gang Hool's answer was not as  swift  as

before.  "We  could  attempt to create yammosks  that  could

function  despite  these evil machines'  influence.  But  it

would be more useful if we had a better understanding of the

technical dimensions of the problem. Have any of these-"  He

hesitated even to speak the foul word, "-these machines been

captured?"

"No," Tsavong Lah said. "We do not capture machines, we

destroy them."

"And  they have another type of new machine,  do  they

not?"  the  Supreme  Overlord asked. "One  that  causes  our

vessels to fire on one another?"

"It is the cause of much misfortune," Tsavong Lah said.

"The  infidels  have developed machines that adhere  to  our

ships,  like  grutchins  to a foe, and  broadcast  a  signal

identifying   them  as  an  enemy.  Our  own  loyal   ships,

perceiving  an  enemy, then open fire." His expression  grew

wooden.  "The enemy insults us by placing on these  machines

the device of Yun-Harla, the Trickster."

"They  insult not us, but the gods!" shouted the  high

priest, Jakan. "Blasphemers! Infidels! Let us capture  those

responsible, and their agony shall be undying!"

The  Supreme Overlord gestured toward the priest. "Not

now,  Lord Priest." Jakan fell silent. Shimrra leaned toward

Tsavong  Lah. "These deceptive devices are able to penetrate

our ships' defenses?"

"No more than any other missile. But the infidels have

also used treachery and surprise. They have captured one  of

our  frigates.  This vessel maintains a  pretense  of  being

friendly until such time as it launches missiles against  us

that  turn  our  vessels against each  other.  The  captured

frigate then escapes in the confusion."

Shimrra  was silent for a long moment. Then  he  said,

"You have been fooled how many times by this trickery?"

"Once, Supreme One. At Hapes, the first time the tactic

was  used. And Komm Karsh was tricked fatally at Obroa-skai,

but he was encountering the tactic for the first time."

"The  solution  seems  elementary.  You  will  develop

recognition  signals for friendly frigates. If  any  frigate

fails  to make the correct signal, all elements in the fleet

should be instructed to regard it as an enemy."

"I  have already begun to implement this reform,"  the

war-master said.

"Let it be your greatest priority," Shimrra said.  "We

must restore the superiority of our forces."

"It shall be done, Supreme One."

Shimrra  turned to Yoog Skell. "Let the  high  prefect

inform  us  of the disposition, strength, and intentions  of

the infidels."

Yoog Skell bowed to the Supreme Overlord and presented

a  digest  of  the latest information procured from  sources

within  the New Republic. Unfortunately, the digest was  not

as  complete as once it would have been: several of the most

useful  Yuuzhan Vong agents among the enemy had been  killed

or neutralized. The late Senator Viqi Shesh was particularly

missed.

The enemy government, Yoog Skell reported, had moved to

Mon  Calamari  in  the Outer Rim, though it  was  not  clear

whether it would remain there. The government had not as yet

chosen  a  new head, though a human named Fyor Rodan  was  a

possible candidate. There was also a Quarren named Pwoe  who

had declared himself Chief of State shortly after Coruscant,

but  it  appeared that fewer and fewer of the  New  Republic

were willing to follow his orders.

The New Republic military appeared to be in a state of

disarray   since  the  fall  of  their  capital.  They   had

undertaken  no  coordinated operations since  Borleias,  and

showed no sign of doing so.

Delegates from several worlds had come to the  Yuuzhan

Vong  offering surrender or neutrality. It was difficult  in

the  current  conditions to determine whether or  not  their

credentials  were genuine, so it wasn't often clear  whether

they had been sent officially or not.

Leaders  of  the  Peace  Brigade,  infidels  who  were

collaborating  with the Yuuzhan Vong, had established  their

capital  on  Ylesia. They had the beginnings  of  their  own

fleet,  though their equipment was drawn from a  variety  of

sources  and  was hardly uniform. Yuuzhan Vong  cadres  were

doing their best to train them.

While Yoog Skell made his report, Norn Anor tried  his

best to remain rigidly calm. The itch had turned his skin to

fire. Desperately he willed himself to be still.

He  noticed, as he stood in silence behind his  chief,

that  Yoog  Skell's hand was surreptitiously scratching  his

leg under cover of his desk. So Yoog Skell had  the itch  as

well, and the stress of his report had made him surrender to

the weakness of scratching.

Nom Anor wished he dared surrender to such a weakness.

After  Yoog  Skell's report, there  was  a  moment  of

silence  before Shimrra responded. "This Fyor Rodan,'  "  he

said.  "This 'Cal Omas.' Is it known whether they will favor

submission or war?"

"Supreme One, I will defer in this matter to my junior

colleague Nom Anor," Yoog Skell said. "He is a specialist on

the  subject  of the infidels, having lived among  them  for

many years."

Shimrra's baleful rainbow gaze lifted to Norn Anor, and

again  Nom  Anor  felt  the chill of  fear.  He  could  feel

Shimrra's presence,

the  gods-given power he possessed, and it sat on  Nom

Anor's heart like a great weight.

At least he forgot all about his itch.

"Supreme  One," he began, and was thankful  he  hadn't

stammered, "according to the analysis provided by our  agent

Viqi  Shesh,  Fyor Rodan was a supporter of  Borsk  Fey'lya,

though  he  occasionally showed signs of  independence.  His

only consistent position was on the matter of the Jedi, whom

he always opposed. As far as we know, he hasn't expressed an

opinion  on  the  matter of peace or war.  Neither  has  Cal

Omas-who has, however, consistently supported the Jedi."

Nom  Anor wished, as the word left his lips,  that  he

hadn't  mentioned the Jedi, which might remind  the  Supreme

One  of too many mistakes that Nom Anor had committed in the

field.  But Shimrra, to  the intendant's relief,  pursued  a

different tack.

"This  Fey'lya  punished  Rodan  and  Omas  for  their

independence?"

"Not as far as I know, Supreme One."

"Fey'lya  was  a  weak creature," Shimrra  mused.  "He

scarcely deserved the honorable death we gave him."

"Supreme One," Nom Anor said, "the citizens of the New

Republic lack a proper understanding of hierarchies and  the

duties  due to one's superior. They believe that  a  certain

amount  of  independence  of  mind  is  permissible.   Borsk

Fey'lya's attitude was not unusual among their leaders."

Shimrra absorbed this, then nodded. "One of our  great

missions, then, shall be to teach these creatures the proper

meaning of submission."

Nom Anor bowed. "Undoubtedly, Supreme One."

"I  wish this Cal Omas killed. Have your agents  carry

out an assassination."

Nom Anor hesitated. "Few of my agents are in place  on

Mon Calamari," he said. "We-"

Shimrra's eyes glittered dangerously. Nom Anor crossed

his  arms  obediently. "It shall be as you  desire,  Supreme

One."

The Supreme Overlord's next question was so soft-spoken

that it caught Nom Anor by surprise. "We shall teach the New

Republic the glory of the gods. And what shall we teach  the

Jeedai? More importantly, what have they taught us?"

At  the mention of the Jedi, fear paralyzed Nom Anor's

tongue,  but after a brief internal struggle he  managed  to

wrench a satisfactory answer from his half-numbed mind.

"We shall teach them how to increase the glory of  the

Yuuzhan Vong through their extermination! And what they have

taught us is that their treachery is boundless, and must  be

answered with death and blood."

He  heard a growl of agreement from the warriors,  and

also from members of the intendant delegation.

Shimrra,  however,  was  silent.  Nom  Anor  felt  the

Overlord's  eyes  on  him, and felt again  the  presence  of

Shimrra's  mind pressing on his own. It was as if  his  very

thoughts had become transparent, completely exposed  to  the

Overlord's  inquiring  mind. Again  fear  shimmered  up  Nom

Anor's spine.

"And  whose fault," Shimrra asked in a voice  all  the

more ominous for its quiet tone, "was the fiasco in the Well

of the World Brain?"

Nom  Anor  fought  his way to the  surface  through  a

current of blind panic. "My Lord," he said, "though I am not

blameless, I beg you to remember that I operated  under  the

authority of Warmaster Tsavong Lan."

The warmaster stood tall, not deigning to respond.

Nom Anor battled terror as he realized the others were

perfectly  willing to sacrifice him. "We all  underestimated

the  treachery of the Jedi, Supreme One," he said. "We  were

misled  by  the  creature Vergere-I no  more  or  less  than

others."

Shimrra  fixed Nom Anor again with his  baleful  look.

"Thousands  witnessed this disaster," he said. "One  of  the

Jeedai,  they  were  told, had been  converted  through  the

Embrace  of  Pain  to  the True Path,  and  would  willingly

sacrifice one of his peers in the Well, and offer his  death

to  the gods. And instead what do they see? The great  doors

slammed in their faces as our tame Jeedai escaped, while the

supposed  sacrificial  victim held  off  an  army  with  the

special  Jeedai weapon that was supposed to have been  taken

from him."

"The  World Brain was endangered!" Ch'gang Hool cried.

"The  Jeedai could have destroyed our last dhuryam, just  as

he destroyed all the others!"

"This catastrophe has led to heresy!" spoke the priest,

Jakan.  "Thousands  were led to doubt the  wisdom  of  their

superiors and the reality of the gods!"

Shimrra's eyes once again settled on Nom Anor. "Heresy.

Doubt. Danger to the dhuryam on which all our plans for  our

new  homeworld  depend. Proof of the heroism of  the  Jeedai

fighting  in our own capital, before the eyes of  thousands.

And,  Executor,  you  will have us  believe  that  this  was

entirely the workings of one little avian, this Vergere?"

Nom  Anor's vision began to darken. He felt as if  his

soul  were  being  squeezed by a ruthless  velvet  hand.  He

gasped in air and tried to speak in his defense.

"Supreme  One," he managed, "none of  us  trusted  her

completely.  All  her meetings with the  captive  Jedi  were

monitored.  Nothing  seditious  passed  between  them.   Her

explanations for her behavior were plausible. She proved her

loyalty more than once-she led Jacen Solo into captivity  on

three  separate occasions. When the Jedi was  tortured,  his

physical responses were monitored, and truly indicated  that

he  was  learning the Embrace of Pain-he was  accepting  the

pain  as  if  he  were Yuuzhan Vong! When he  announced  his

willingness to proclaim the True Doctrine and sacrifice  the

other  Jedi  whom he himself had captured,  no  one  doubted

him."

"And  the  importance of the twin sacrifice?"  Shimrra

inquired.  "The  idea that this Jacen  Solo  should  not  be

killed  immediately, but held until he could  be  sacrificed

along with his sister? Whose notion was that?"

"Vergere's," Norn Anor said. He felt the  presence  of

the  Supreme  Overlord  begin to  squeeze  his  mind  again,

blotting  out  his  thoughts. He could  see  only  Shimrra's

ruthless, glowing eyes. It is like the Embrace of  Pain,  he

thought,  mental torture at the hands of a yammosk.  Through

the  horrible  pressure he held to one word.  "Vergere!"  he

cried. "Vergere! It was all Vergere!"

"Supreme One," another voice said. Through the blur of

oppression  and  terror,  Nom  Anor  recognized  the  priest

Harrar.  Another betrayer, he thought, another one  come  to

crush me with some burden of blame.

"I was present, Supreme One," Harrar said. "The idea of

the  twin sacrifice was partly my own, partly Khalee  Lah's,

partly  Vergere's. I confess that I was duped. The truth  is

that  Vergere  fooled us because none of her actions  seemed

capable  of a treacherous interpretation. Why did  she  lead

Jacen  Solo  into  captivity not once, but thrice?  She  had

numerous  opportunities to help him escape, but did  not  do

so.  Why  did  she participate in his torture? Why  did  she

manipulate him-or seem to manipulate him-on our behalf?

"I  have concluded," Harrar finished, "that if Vergere

is not loyal to us, neither is she loyal to the infidels."

Nom Anor sobbed for breath as the mental pressure  was

released.  Through his dimmed eye he could make  out  Harrar

standing  in the delegation of High Priest Jakan.  The  high

priest  did  not  seem  pleased to  hear  his  subordinate's

confession-thus far the college of priests had  escaped  any

blame  for  the  catastrophe, and now Harrar was  likely  to

bring unwelcome attention to his caste.

Nom  Anor's blood sang with gratitude for Harrar.  The

priest had saved him.

The warmaster, on the other hand, looked at Nom Anor as

if he were on the verge of throttling him.

While  Nom  Anor struggled to recover his presence  of

mind, Shimrra interrogated Harrar and the warmaster. In  the

end,  the  Supreme  Overlord  leaned  back  on  his  throne,

disappearing into its spiky interior.

"Interesting," he said. "For fifty years this  Vergere

has lived among us, and none of us knew her true nature. For

fifty  years she studied us, and learned our ways,  and  was

able to plan her treachery." He leaned forward and turned to

Jakan.  "Priest!" he said. "Is this creature  not  the  true

incarnation of Yun-Harla  the Trickster?"

Outrage  quivered in the priest's jowls, but  when  he

spoke his voice was firm. "Never!" he said. "Say rather that

Vergere is the embodiment of evil!"

"Is she a Jeedai?" someone queried.

"She  can't be," Harrar said. "The Jeedai derive their

abilities  from something called the 'Force,' and their  use

of  it can be detected by a yammosk. If Vergere were Jeedai,

she would have been unmasked."

Shimrra's deep voice was reflective. "Jeedai or not, I

wonder  about her. Isn't such a deception, over such a  long

period,  a  kind  of  masterpiece?" He looked  down  at  his

creature,  Onimi.  "Is  she  not worthy  of  admiration,  to

deceive  so  many for so long?" he asked, and gave  Onimi  a

kick. Onimi, startled, looked up and began to warble.

"Out of the World-Well, and into thin air,

That devious trickster, the traitor Vergere."

And  then, with a fawning glance at his master,  Onimi

added slyly:

"But some little pets are more suitably loyal,

I'll still be your friend, and share your throne royal."

Shimrra burst into laughter at this, and shoved  Onimi

with  his  foot,  pushing him another step lower.  "You  may

share my throne from there, Onimi!" he said.

Onimi shaded his eyes with a hand and peered out at the

assembled delegations. "I still have a better view of things

than  any  of  these,  Supreme One,"  he  noted,  thankfully

forgetting to speak in rhyme.

"That  wouldn't be hard," Shimrra said, almost  as  an

aside.

Uneasy  laughter rolled around the great chamber.  Nom

Anor,  still  dizzied  from  his interrogation,  sensed  the

anxiety  and fear that lay beneath the laughter.  Would  the

Supreme Overlord choose another one to humiliate?

Shimrra faced his audience. "The lesson of all this is

simple," he said. "Let all follow my example, and permit  no

pet to inhabit a position of trust."

The  delegates chorused agreement. Nom  Anor  couldn't

help but think, however, that Onimi was trusted at least  to

the  extent  of  being  permitted to attend  meetings  where

important  matters were discussed. If Onimi were a  spy,  he

could give his secret masters much useful information.

But  if Onimi were a spy, surely Shimrra, through  his

powerful  presence that saw into souls, would  discover  the

fact?

But  Vergere, too, should have been discovered, should

she not?

"High  Priest," Shimrra said, turning his head  toward

Jakan.  "My  apologies  for delaying this  vital  discussion

until  now.  I wished us all to give it our full  attention.

Please bring to everyone's attention this matter of heresy."

The better to make his presentation, Jakan rose to his

feet, his formal robes brushing the floor. His daughter, the

priestess  Elan, had adopted the treacherous  Vergere  as  a

pet, and then died on a mission to assassinate the Jedi. The

loss  of  his  daughter had hardened Jakan in his  religious

orthodoxy,   and  hardened  him  in  his  determination   to

implement the will of the gods.

"I, too, bring word of infiltration," he said. He gave

a  ponderous pause, his head turning left to right  to  view

each  delegation in turn. As the priest's eyes crossed  with

his,  Nom  Anor felt a thrill of fear. Was the  high  priest

about to accuse someone here?

"Not by dangerous spies," Jakan went on at last,  "but

by  dangerous ideas. Priests from as far away as  Dubrillion

have   reported  that  they  have  discovered  unauthorized,

clandestine  meetings  among the lower orders-meetings  that

claim  to  be  religious  ceremonies.  Meetings  in  private

quarters  or empty countryside. Meetings where our own  True

Way  is denied, and where treasonous, heretical concepts are

spread to the people."

Again  the priest paused solemnly, as if to  emphasize

the gravity of his words. Shimrra spoke into the silence.

"Heresy  is  nothing new. Why is this  of  such  great

import? What sort of people take part in these ceremonies?"

"Shamed Ones.," Jakan said in a fierce whisper, as  if

the   words  themselves  were  obscene.  "Shamed  Ones,  and

workers.   Precisely  those  castes  needing  the   greatest

guidance  in matters of belief. Sometimes"-again  his  voice

dropped  into a dramatic whisper- "workers and  Shamed  Ones

are found at the heretical ceremonies together."

Nom  Anor's single eye was drawn irresistibly  to  the

Shamed  One Onimi, condemned by the gods through the failure

of  his  implants. For once Onimi seemed inclined to  remain

silent,  though his lanky body half reclined in  a  pose  of

insolence.  His  upper lip was again curled  to  reveal  one

long, yellow tooth.

"And the nature of these heretical ceremonies?" Shimrra

prodded.

"They  venerate the Jeedai" Jakan said, and this  time

there  was a murmur of outrage and surprise from the  crowd.

"The power of the Jeedai has brought into question that  the

gods favor the Yuuzhan Vong. They believe that Yun-Harla and

Yun-Yammka are aligned with the twins Jaina and Jacen  Solo.

And  some of the heretics, here on Yuuzhan'tar, have in  the

last  weeks  begun to revere a being they call  the  Gunner.

Gamier, of course, was  the name of the Jeedai who gave  his

life at the battle of the World-Well."

Shimrra fingered his chin. "Where do the lower  orders

acquire these heresies?"

"The  contamination was probably begun by slaves  from

the  New Republic who labor alongside the workers and Shamed

Ones,"  Jakan explained. "Slaves who admired the Jeedai  and

their philosophy."

Jakan  clenched his fist and shook it. "At the  moment

the  heretics are not organized, they have no real  leaders,

and  their doctrine is a jumble of contradictory ideas. Stop

them  now-root them out, before they grow into a force  that

weakens us from within!"

Again the priest offered a dramatic moment of silence,

and  then  he turned and bowed toward Shimrra. "Such  is  my

report, Supreme One."

Nom  Anor  heard  a sigh from his own  superior,  Yoog

Skell,  but  he was unable to work out what the sigh  meant.

The  itching was a tormenting blast that scared  Nom  Anor's

flesh.

"Have you any specific recommendations concerning this

crisis?"  the Supreme Overlord inquired. ''Kill the heretics

is final, but lacks detail."

Jakan  bowed  again. "Supreme One, my  recommendations

would demand absolute segregation of the slaves from our own

people  so as to prevent the spread of inappropriate  ideas.

Public  sacrifice  of the heretics. Rewards  for  those  who

renounce their false paths and turn in their fellows."

Yoog  Skell sighed again, more loudly this time,  more

wearily.  "Supreme One," he said, "while I am  certainly  no

friend  to  heresy, I must beg for less drastic methods.  We

are  engaged in a war that may continue for klekkets or even

longer.  The combined labors of workers and Shamed Ones  and

slaves  arc  necessary to advance our  objectives.  We  have

settlements  to  grow, food crops to raise  in  half-wrecked

ecosystems, ships and weapons and other vital items to ripen

and  harvest,  and  Yuuzhan'tar itself to transform  from  a

machine-poisoned,  artificial  landscape  into  our  perfect

ancestral paradise."

Jakan  bowed  toward  Yoog Skell.  "Our  paradise  can

scarcely be perfect if it contains heresy."

"I  concede the high priest's point," Yoog Skell said.

"But  an  inquiry into all our workers would be  disruptive.

Segregation of the workers from the slaves is impossible  at

this  stage-they are all engaged in vital work.  Going  amid

them  with  bribes  aimed at getting them  to  turn  on  one

another-imagine the disruption! Imagine the situation if the

workers start accusing overseers in the hope of seeing  them

brought  down! Imagine how many false accusations we  should

have to weed out from the true!"

"That  would be the task of the priests," Jakan  said.

"Your own people need not concern themselves."

"But if the workers should accuse warriors? Or shapers?

Or even loyal priests?"

Nom Anor realized that Yoog Skell was pointing out  to

the  shapers and warriors that Jakan's plan put them at risk

as well as the workers, whom no one cared about.

Yoog  Skell  spoke on. "Besides, who  cares  what  the

Shamed  Ones  think? The gods hate them  anyway.  And  whose

fault is it that the workers lapse into heresy? Haven't  the

priests already failed in their duty?"

Jakan, bloated with injured dignity, was about to make

a  furious rebuttal when Shimrra held up a hand for silence.

All  eyes respectfully turned to him-all except that of Norn

Anor, who was blind to everything but a sudden blaze of  his

own  itching torment. The itch was spreading. Now  his  back

was on fire, where he couldn't scratch even if he wanted to!

"The  gods  have placed me upon this throne  as  their

instrument," Shimrra said, "and I agree with the high priest

that heresy may not be tolerated."

A satisfied look inflated Jakan's face, a satisfaction

that  died away at the Overlord's next words. "But the  high

prefect  has  a  worthy point. When we arc  at  war,  it  is

foolish   to  disorder  one's  own  forces.  I  don't   want

disruption  among  the workers at such a time,  particularly

since  the workers are uneducated and may have adopted these

beliefs without knowing their dangerous nature. Therefore-"

He  turned to the high priest. "Priest Jakan, I direct

that  the  priests inform the people of the danger  of  this

heresy. Tell them from me, from their Supreme Overlord, that

the  Jeedai are not emanations of the gods. Tell  them  that

such  beliefs are unsound and forbidden. Those  workers  who

are  properly obedient to their superiors will then know  to

avoid any such contamination in the future."

"And"-the  priest  bowed-"if  they  persist  in  their

error?"

"You may kill any heretics you come across, as publicly

as  you  like,"  Shimrra said. "But I  wish  no  large-scale

investigation  of  the  masses of workers,  no  rewards  for

accusations.  When we win the war"-he nodded at  Jakan-"then

we may have a more thorough inquiry. But for the present,  I

want the Yuuzhan Vong focused on defeating our enemies,  not

interrogating each other."

Jakan's face had fallen, but he bowed and acceded with

grace. "It shall be as you wish, Supreme One."

"You may return to your scat, High Priest Jakan."

With  great dignity, the priest returned to his  desk.

Behind him, Onimi sneered and scratched himself again.

Fury  raged  in Norn Anor as he watched the  misshapen

figure  scratch.  How he would love to  have  those  fingers

beneath his boot!

An  agreeable expression crossed Shimrra's face.  "The

Shamed  One  reminds me," he said, "that I  should  ask  the

shapers how their work progresses? How goes the worldshaping

of Yuuzhan'tar?"

"Supreme One," Ch'Gang Hool said, "it goes well."

"This news is pleasing," Shimrra said. "May we inquire

of the master whether there have been any problems?"

A look of caution crossed the master shaper's face. He

spoke  quickly.  "Some difficulties are inevitable,  Supreme

One.  We are dealing with an alien environment that we  have

largely   destroyed,   and  some   of   the   native   life-

forms-microscopic   ones,  mostly-are  proving   persistent.

Perhaps," he admitted, "some of you have experienced some  .

.  .  minor  discomforts  ... as  the  result  of  a  fungal

infection. We are attempting to, ah-"

"And the nature of this minor discomfort?" the Supreme

Overlord asked sweetly.

Ch'Gang  Hool  hesitated.  "Ah-itching,  Supreme  One-

persistent itching."

Nom  Anor's nerves flamed at the very mention  of  the

word itch. Anger began to simmer in his blood.

Ch'Gang Hool gave what was probably intended to  be  a

confident growl. "A mere itch, Supreme One. Nothing that any

member  of  the  higher  castes  cannot  overcome  with  the

discipline  demonstrated in the course of earning  rank  and

honor."

"And  you are, of course, a disciplined member of  the

highest caste," Shimrra said.

Ch'Gang Hool rose to his feet, lordly in his ceremonial

robes. "I have earned that distinction, Supreme One."

Shimrra  jumped to his feet, both fists  smashing  the

arms  of  his  throne, and roared at the top of  his  lungs.

"Then  why  have  I  watched  your surreptitious  scratching

through this whole meeting?"

Ch'Gang Hool froze. In the sudden ominous silence Onimi

jumped  to  his feet, rags of uniforms swirling around  him,

and scratched himself with abandon. Then he sat down with  a

broad grin on his face.

The Supreme Overlord pointed one long-clawed, implanted

finger  at the master shaper. "The worldshaping of  our  new

home-world is being botched. Do you think I don't know  that

this  plague  has  spread among our entire population  here?

Even I was infected within hours of landing on Yuuzhan'tar!"

Anger  erupted  in Nom Anor's mind. This  wasn't  just

about  his  own personal torture by this demonic itch.  What

was this whole war about, if not to re-create the perfection

of  the long-lost homeworld? What a catastrophe it would  be

if the worldshaping failed!

"Supreme  One,"  Ch'Gang  Hool  said,  "this  complete

reconstruction  of an entire ecosystem is a complex  matter,

and  though  perfect success is within reach,  it  may  take

longer than our earlier estimates-"

Shimrra  gave a scornful laugh. "It's not  simply  the

fungus, though, is it, master shaper? Do you think I haven't

heard  of  the  grashals intended for worker  barracks  that

melted down into a mass of undifferentiated protein? Or  the

crop  of  villips that grew imprinted on some local  animal,

and  could  only transmit the beast's screech  of  a  mating

call? The blorash jelly that attempted to devour the shapers

who tended it?"

"Supreme  One,  I-"  Ch'Gang Hool attempted  again  to

protest,  then sagged in defeat. "I confess the  fault,"  he

said.

"Death!" someone roared in Nom Anor's ear.

The  Supreme Overlord himself growled his  rage.  "The

world-shaping shall be placed in more competent  hands  than

yours," he said, and then he turned to the group of warriors

behind  Tsavong  Lan.  "Commander!  Subalterns!  Take   this

imposter of a master shaper and carry him from this chamber.

Execute  him  as soon as you get him out of our sight!  Make

him pay for his incompetence!"

Chapter 11

Dif  Scaur, the head of New Republic Intelligence,  was

alone in his office when his secure comm chimed. This was  a

comm  unit that was used for one purpose only, and he  tried

to  control the sudden lurch of his heart as reached for the

comm with one long, pale hand.

The  display  brightened, and he saw the  caller.  The

caller with flame-colored eyes.

"Yes?" Scaur said. Anticipation hummed in his nerves.

"The experiment was a success."

Scaur took a breath. "Very well," he said.

"I  believe  I  can now guarantee the success  of  the

project."

Scaur gave a single, deliberate nod. "Then I will make

the necessary arrangements."

"We will need a larger facility. And we will also need

the silence of certain individuals."

"That has already been arranged." Scaur hesitated. "We

should meet in person."

"Very well." The caller seemed satisfied. "I will await

your arrival."

Transmission ceased. Scaur reached out a hand to  turn

off  the comm unit, and when he drew it back in, he realized

it was trembling.

Now  everything has changed, he thought. Now I am  the

Slayer.

The shipyards of Mon Calamari glittered in the light of

its sun, structures as graceful and strong as the ships they

produced. Luke could see three cruisers partially completed,

each  in  the MC80 class, each different in appearance  from

the  others. Half a dozen smaller craft were also in various

stages  of completion. One always wished the Mon Cals  would

develop  a sense of urgency, at least in wartime, but  their

desire  to  customize and perfect each vessel never  abated,

and  each  was lovingly crafted and beautified  and  refined

until  it became both a work of art and the deadliest  force

in the New Republic arsenal.

Beneath a transparent dome, Luke and Mara stood  on  a

graceful mezzanine thrust out over the main concourse of the

Fleet  Command  annex. Both gazed upward at  the  glittering

silver  shipyards  afloat over the brilliant  blue  of   the

planet, both set off by the depthless velvet night of  space

and  its spray of stars. The scene, the emptiness and beauty

and  the  blue  jewel of life set within it, settled  around

Luke  like a cloak, a vision of peace and perfection.  "It's

the turning point," he said.

Mara gave him a quizzical look. "Do you know what made

you say that yesterday?" she asked.

After  that strange moment, when he'd been touched  by

something  that reminded him of Jacen, he'd gone  into  deep

meditation  and a Force trance in the hope of regaining  the

fleeting  contact, but he'd been unable to find the  answers

to any of his questions.

Now that he'd made contact with Jacen a second time, he

had begun to suspect he knew what had spoken to him.

"It may have come from the Force itself," he said.

Distant  stars reflected in her jade-colored  eyes  as

Mara considered this. "The Force can offer us a view of what

is  to  come," she said. "But usually it's ...  a  bit  less

spontaneous."

"I'm  more  sure than ever that Jacen  has  a  special

destiny." He turned to Mara and squeezed her hand.

Mara's eyes widened. "Do you think Jacen himself knows

his destiny?"

"I don't know. And I don't know if he would accept  it

if  he did-he's always questioned his purpose as a Jedi, and

even  the  meaning  of the Force. I can't  imagine  him  not

questioning  any  fate  that lay  in  store  for  him."  His

thoughts  darkened, and he looked at Mara  soberly.  "And  a

special  destiny is not always something joyous, or easy  to

bear. My father had a special destiny, and see where it took

him."

Mara's look turned grave. "We must help him," she said.

"If  he'll  let us. He hasn't always been  cooperative

that way."

Luke raised his head to gaze out the great dome, and to

the  dome  of star-spangled blackness beyond, where  Jacen's

coral  craft,  caught in the tractor beams  of  one  of  the

fleet's  MC80A  cruisers,  was being  carried  to  a  nearby

docking  bay.  Though the craft itself was too  distant  for

Luke  to see it, Luke thought he saw the Mon Cal cruiser,  a

distant wink of light swooping gracefully toward the annex.

"Hey!"  called a loud voice from the concourse  below.

"It's Senator Sneakaway! And Senator Scramblefree!" This was

followed  by  booming  laughter, and then.  "Yes!  You!  I'm

talking to you!"

Wordlessly Luke and Mara drifted to the mezzanine rail

and  looked  down  onto the concourse.  Below,  the  tallest

Phindian Luke had ever seen, her long arms thrusting out  of

the  sleeves of her Defense Force uniform, lunged  toward  a

human  and a Sul-lustan who had just emerged from a consular

ship docked at the annex. Luke recognized both the newcomers

as members of the Senate.

The Phindian stepped into the path of the two Senators,

then reeled. Luke realized that the Phindian was drunk;  she

had  probably just stormed out of the officers' club beneath

the mezzanine.

The Phindian thrust out her tiny little chin. "Do  you

know  how many friends I lost at Coruscant?" she asked.  "Do

you?"

The  two Senators remained silent, their lips  pressed

closely together. They tried moving around the Phindian, but

her long, long arms blocked their way.

"Ten  thousand?"  the Phindian boomed,  extending  one

finger  from  a  delicate-looking  fist.  "Twenty  thousand?

Thirty thousand comrades lost?" Two more fingers thrust out.

"F-forty?"  The Phindian tried to hold out a fourth  finger,

but  then  seemed a little late to realize there  were  only

three fingers on her hand.

"We  all lost friends on Coruscant," the human Senator

said  grimly,  and  tried  to push  one  of  the  Phindian's

enveloping  arms  out of his way. The Phindian  blocked  him

again. Her yellow eyes tried to focus on his face.

"Too bad you didn't think about your friends when  you

ran  away, Senator Sneakaway!" she said. "Too bad that  when

you commandeered Alamania, you left your friends to die!"

Luke  felt  Mara's  hand  on  his  arm.  "Should   we

intervene?" she asked in a low voice.

"Not unless it turns violent," Luke said. "And I don't

think  it's  going  to."  He  glanced  directly  below   the

mezzanine  rail  at  a group of officers  who  were  quietly

watching  the confrontation from the officers'  club.  "Look

there."

Mara turned her gaze to the group of officers. "They're

not intervening, either."

"No," Luke said significantly. "They're not."

"Please  stand aside, Captain," the Sullustan  Senator

said  to  the Phindian. "We have important business here  on

Mon Calamari."

"Important  business!"  the Phindian  said.  "Is  that

anything  like the important business that required  you  to

order  Green  Squadron to escort you and your  shuttle  into

hyperspace? Green Squadron, which was covering my  Pride  of

Honor? My poor Pride, which got hammered by the Yuuzhan Vong

and  suffered two hundred and forty-one dead? My poor Pride,

which barely made it to Mon Calamari and is going to have to

be  scrapped, because it simply isn't worth the  expense  it

would  take to patch it back together? What business was  so

important that it was worth two hundred and forty-one  lives

Senator   Scramblefree?"  One  spindly  hand   prodded   the

Sullustan  in the chest. "Eh?" the Phindian asked.  "Senator

Flyaway? Senator Cowardheart? Senator Curdleguts? Eh?"

"Take care, Captain,"  the human Senator said. "You're

endangering your commission."

"You've already taken away my ship!" the Phindian said.

"You've already killed half my crew! You've already cost  us

the capital!" She hooted with laughter. "Do you think I care

about my commission? Do you think there's anything you could

do  to me that's worse than what you've already done? Do you

think I care about the solemn oath I swore to protect craven

little bootlickers like you? Do you think any of us care?"

The Phindian waved one long arm in the direction of the

officers  on  the  threshold of the club. The  two  Senators

turned   and   saw  the  solemn  group  who   watched   this

confrontation in silence.

The Senators stared. The officers stared back. And for

the first time, the Senators seemed nervous.

The  Phindian still stood with her long arm  extended,

pointing to the officers' club, and the human ducked beneath

it  and  walked  briskly  for the  exit.  When  the  drunken

Phindian swung around after the human, the Sulhistan  dodged

around her and scuttled after his human colleague.

But  even  if her arms were longer than her legs,  the

Phindian was fast in pursuit. She caught the two and  draped

her arms around their shoulders as if they were old friends,

"Tell  you what,"  the Phindian said. "There's nothing

you  can do to me, but there's something you can do for  me.

There's  a  fleet appropriations bill coming up in  the  new

session-it  will  be  in your committee, Senator  Decamp-and

you're going to vote for it. Because if you don't, we  won't

be  able  to  go  on  protecting  cowards  and  thieves  and

politicians from the Yuuzhan Vong, will we? And besides,  if

you  don't give us the money-" The Senators stopped dead  in

their tracks as the Phindian caught their heads in her elbow

joints, half strangling them. Her yellow eyes glittered. "If

you  don't  give us the money," the Phindian said drunkenly,

importantly, "we'll take it. After all, we've got the  guns,

and  we  already know how brave you are around  guns,  don't

we?"

She  released  her  two  captives,  and  the  Senators

hastened for the exit. The Phindian raised her tiny chin and

called  after  them. "One more thing, Senators!  Don't  ever

expect  to  run from the enemy on a fleet ship  ever  again!

Because if you ever try to commandeer one more fleet vessel,

we're  going  to pack you into an escape pod  and  fire  you

straight at the Yuuzhan Vong. And that's a solemn oath,  and

we've all sworn it!"

The Senators were gone. The Phindian stared after them

for  a  moment, her long arms dangling past her knees,  then

wheeled and returned to her friends.

The  group of officers burst into applause. There were

cheers.  They  put their arms around the Phindian  and  half

carried her into the club for a celebration.

Luke  and  Mara stood on the mezzanine in  the  sudden

weighty silence and thought about what they had just seen.

"Natural high spirits?" Mara suggested.

"You know that's not what it was."

"Mutiny?"

"Not  mutiny. Not yet.T Luke looked at the blank doors

through  which the two Senators had fled. "But  it's  close.

The  military haven't had anything but defeats in this  war,

and they know it's not their fault. They know the leadership

has  been  corrupt and stupid and cowardly and  inept.  They

know that Coruscant might have fallen because of politicians

like  those two." He paused as he heard a muffled cheer from

the  officers below. "I'd feel better," he said, "if one  of

those  cheering  weren't wearing the  insignia  of  a  fleet

commander."

"Me,  too," Mara said. She gave a nervous glance  over

her  shoulder. "We'd better get a government the  fleet  can

respect,  and  soon.  If  the military  break  free  of  the

civilian   government  and  start  grabbing   resources   at

blasterpoint, they're no more than pirates."

"Extremely well-armed pirates," Luke added.

It's the turning point., he reminded himself. And hoped

it wasn't turning the wrong way.

He  glanced overhead again, out the great  dome.,  and

this  time  he could see Jacen's coral craft with the  naked

eye,  suspended  by tractor beams below the great  scalloped

hull  of the MC80A cruiser. The alien origin of the pod  was

clear:  the  coral  hull and its bulbous organic  form  were

unlike  anything  else  in the sky.  The  graceful  Mon  Cal

structures,  with their fluid curves, imitated  nature;  but

the Yuuzhan Vong pod was nature, and extragalactic nature at

that.

Doors  slid  open behind Luke, and a file of  soldiers

trotted  onto  the  mezzanine, all  armed  and  armored  for

combat,  their faces masked to keep out alien poisons.  They

were followed by a combat droid that brandished half a dozen

weapons on the ends of its brazen arms.

The  military  was clearly taking no  chances  with  a

Yuuzhan  Vong pod docking in vital New Republic  space.  Not

only  was an armed escort meeting the vessel, but the vessel

was  being  docked not to Fleet Command, but to  its  annex,

which  could  be completely sealed off from the headquarters

itself  and, if necessary, jettisoned into space  by  firing

explosive bolts.

The  young  officer commanding the soldiers approached

Luke and Mara and saluted.

"Masters Skywalker," he said to both of them. "Admiral

Sow's  compliments, and after Jacen Solo and  his  companion

are  brought on board, he would be honored if you would  all

join him for refreshment."

Poor  Sien Sow, Luke thought. As Supreme Commander  of

the  Defense  Force,  he'd  been held  responsible  for  the

multiple  catastrophes that had befallen the military.  Last

Luke  had heard, Sow had been wandering Mon Calamari  trying

to  find someone to submit his resignation to-but without  a

Chief of State, no one was in a position to take it.

"I  would  be  delighted  to see  the  admiral,"  Luke

answered,  "provided,  of course,  that  my  nephew  doesn't

require medical attention."

"Of course, sir. Understood."

Luke  and  Mara followed the soldiers to  the  docking

port.  The  soldiers took positions left and  right  of  the

hatch,  and  the  droid directly in front  of  it,  multiple

weaponry  directed forward. Luke looked  at  Mara.  She  was

focused inward, her eyes half closed.

"I don't sense anything wrong," Mara said.

"I don't, either."

Without  a  word,  Luke and Mara stepped  between  the

battle  droid and the docking bay hatch. Luke felt his  nape

hairs  prickle at the thought of all that firepower directed

at his back.

"Sir-" the officer began.

Luke   made  a  gentle  gesture.  "We'll   be   fine,

Lieutenant," he said.

"You'll be fine. Yes, sir."

There was a gentle tremor as tractor beams brought the

pod  to the hatch, and a hiss as the lock pressurized.  Then

lights  blinked on the inner hatch and it swung open.  Jacen

stood in the open hatch.

He  was dressed in a kind of colorless poncho, clearly

of  Yuuzhan Vong origin, tied at the waist with what  looked

like a vine. He had lost weight, and his ropy muscles flexed

plainly under pale, sickly skin that didn't seem to hold  an

ounce  of  fat. Scars, healed but still vivid,  striped  his

bare arms and legs.

It  was  Jacen's face, however, that showed  the  most

change.

Beneath an untrimmed mane of hair and a short, equally

scruffy  beard  was a sharp, chiseled face, any  remains  of

baby  fat burned away, with brown eyes that showed an adult,

restless, penetrating intelligence.

When Jacen had left for Myrkr, he had been on the cusp

of  adulthood. It was clear that whatever else he  may  have

left there his boyhood was gone.

The  relentless eyes turned toward Luke and  Mara  and

blossomed at once with warmth and recognition. Luke felt his

heart  surge  with joy. He and Mara each took an involuntary

step  forward, and Jacen sped from  the hatch, and his  arms

swept  out  to  embrace them both. Laughter burst  from  all

three at the joyous reunion.

Tears stung Luke's eyes. The turning point, he thought.

Yes. From this point, we turn from sorrow toward joy.

"My boy!" The words spilled from Luke. "My boy!"

It was Mara who broke the embrace. She took a half step

back, her hand gently placed on Jacen's chest as if to touch

the heart of him. "You've been injured."

"Yes."  The  word was simple, accepting. Whatever  had

happened to him, Jacen seemed at peace with it.

"Are  you all right?" Mara continued. "Do you  need  a

healer?"

"No, I'm fine. Vergere healed me."

It  was  then  that  Mara and Luke turned  to  Jacen's

companion.  The piebald little alien had taken a  few  steps

into  the  station, and was looking at the  ranks  of  armed

soldiers with what seemed to be both skepticism and humor.

"I owe Vergere thanks of my own, it seems," Mara said.

Vergere turned her wide, slanting eyes toward Mara. "My

tears served you?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm cured, apparently."

"Many  years ago, Nom Anor poisoned you with  a  coomb

spore.  Did you know that?" Vergere's words were precise,  a

little fussy.

"Yes, I know." She hesitated. "But-healing tears?  How

did you-how is it done?"

Vergere's feathery whiskers rippled in what  may  have

been a slight smile. "It is a long story. Perhaps someday  I

will tell you."

Luke faced Jacen again and found the young man grinning

at him. Luke grinned back. And then an idea struck him.

"We've got to tell your parents you're alive," he said.

"And your sister."

Jacen's grin faded slightly. "Yes. I tried to  contact

them  through  the Force. But-yes-they should have  official

word, as well."

"Sir."  It was the lieutenant commanding the  military

detachment. "Master Skywalker, I have to take possession  of

the  escape  pod. If you'll wait for a few  minutes  on  the

mezzanine,  I'll  escort  you to the  communications  center

where  you  can  send your message, and then on  to  Admiral

Sow."

"Certainly," Luke said. An irresistible urge  to  grin

struck him again, and he ruffled Jacen's hair with his hand.

With  the  young man between them, their  arms  around

Jacen's  shoulders and waist, Luke and Mara walked past  the

battle  droid  to  the mezzanine rail. Vergere  followed  in

silence.

Below,  travelers  moved back and forth  from  docking

ports,  all too busy to look up and see the strange  reunion

taking place on the balcony above them.

"Welcome back," Luke said. "Welcome back, young Jedi."

"I'm  not the only one you should welcome back," Jacen

said, with a nod toward Vergere.

Luke turned to Vergere. "Welcome, of course," he  said

politely. "But I don't know where you're from, so I can't be

sure whether you're back or not."

"That  is  a paradox without an easy answer,"  Vergere

said.

Jacen laughed. "That's true. Haven't you guessed?" And

when Luke and Mara turned to him, Jacen laughed again.

"Vergere is a Jedi. A Jedi of the Old Republic.  She's

been  living  among  the Yuuzhan Vong for  more  than  fifty

years."

Luke stared at Vergere in astonishment.

"And you're still alive!" Mara blurted.

Vergere looked down at herself, and patted herself  as

if  demonstrating her own existence. "Apparently  so,  young

Masters," she said.

"How-" Mara began. How had she lived among the Yuuzhan

Vong without having her Jedi powers unmasked by a yammosk?

"Another  long  story,"  Vergere  said,  "perhaps  for

another time."

"You keep your secrets, Vergere," Luke observed.

"I didn't survive by offering my secrets to anyone who

might be interested," Vergere said. "My secrets shall remain

mine  alone,  unless I see a reason to set them  free."  She

didn't speak defiantly, but in a matter-of-fact tone, as  if

describing the color of the carpet.

"We   don't   want   to  pump  you  for   information

unnecessarily," Luke said, "but I do hope we'll be  able  to

talk sooner or later."

Vergere's  feathers  ruffled  a  bit,  then  smoothed.

Perhaps  it  was  her  version of a shrug.  "We  may  speak,

certainly.  But please recall what I told you  earlier-I  am

not a partisan of your New Republic."

"What does hold your allegiance?" Luke asked.

"The  Jedi  Code. And what you would  call  the  'Old'

Republic."

"There is no Old Republic." Luke tried to speak gently.

"But there is." Her eyes lifted to his, and he felt  a

shimmer  of Vergere's power and conviction, like a vibration

in his bones.

"As long as I draw breath," she said, "the Old Republic

lives."

There  was  a moment of silence, and then Luke  spoke.

"Long may it live, Vergere," he said.

Vergere  bobbed her head. "I thank you, young Master."

And  then  she fell silent and turned to look out over   the

concourse, her eyes sweeping left and right, gazing  at  the

busy  people and droids moving swiftly about their business,

the ships, the cargo moving back and forth.

It  was  a  world,  Luke  thought,  that  Vergere  had

abandoned  fifty  years ago. She had lived  among  a  people

immeasurably strange, and Luke wondered how alien  Vergere's

own  native  galaxy seemed to her now, with its many  races,

its bustle, and its humming, clicking, chattering machines.

Sadness  sifted through Luke's veins. He had  welcomed

Jacen back to his home, but no such welcome was possible for

Vergere- everything she had known was gone.

The reunion did not end with the reappearance of Jacen.

When Luke and his party were brought into Admiral Sow's

suite, Luke found that Sow wasn't alone. Sitting on the long

curved  cream-colored sofa behind their Sullustan host  were

two  familiar figures posed like a painterly study in white,

a white-uniformed Mon Calamari and a white-haired human.

"Admiral Ackbar! Winter!"

The joy of reunion with his old friends died, however,

as he saw Ackbar struggle to rise from  the sofa, and he had

to force the smile to remain on his face.

Ackbar leaned heavily on Winter's arm as he stood. The

amphibian's  shiny  pink skin had turned grayish  and  dull.

When  he  spoke, his words were lisped out of a slack  mouth

that gasped for air.

"Master Skywalker. Friends. I regret to say that living

out of water is a burden for me these days."

"Please don't stand, then," Luke said.

He went to Ackbar's side, and with Winter's help eased

the  admiral  again onto the sofa. "Have you been  ill?"  he

asked the admiral, but his eyes went to Winter.

The white-haired woman looked at Luke and gave a brief

nod, a quiet confirmation.

"Ill?" Ackbar said. "Not exactly. What I am is old" He

gave  a sigh from his slack lips. "Perhaps Fey'lya was right

when he refused to let me return to the service."

"More  likely he remembered the times you'd humiliated

him in Council," Mara said.

Winter  approached Jacen and wrapped him  in  a  long,

thorough,  and powerful embrace. "Welcome back, Jacen,"  she

said  simply.  Winter  had looked after  the  Solo  children

through much of the early days of the New Republic, when Han

and  Leia  had been driven by the war from one  end  of  the

galaxy  to  the other, and over the years she  had  probably

spent as much time with Jacen as his mother had.

"Have you heard from Tycho?" Luke asked. While Winter's

husband,  Tycho  Celchu, was away with the military,  Winter

had  returned  to Ackbar's side as his aide  and  companion,

serving him as loyally as she'd once served Leia.

"He's  helping Wedge Antilles organize the defense  of

Kuat  and  the establishment of resistance cells.  And  he's

well."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Ackbar lifted his large head toward Mara. "I understand

that  I  should  offer congratulations. Did you  receive  my

gift?"

"We  did,  thank  you. The toy holoprojector  will  do

wonders for Ben's vision and coordination."

"The child is well?"

"Ben's fine." A shadow crossed Mara's face. "He's been

sent to safety for as long as we're in danger, which may  be

a while."

"The  Solos  did the same thing with their  children,"

Winter  reminded them. She sent an affectionate look  toward

Jacen. "They turned out all right."

"Will you all please make yourselves comfortable?" Sien

Sow said in his nasal voice. "Shall I send for refreshment?"

Luke  turned  to  Sow and felt mild  embarrassment  at

having  ignored  the Supreme Commander of the  New  Republic

Defense Force for so long. "I beg your pardon, Admiral,"  he

said. "I should-"

The Sullustan made a dismissive gesture. "Since I asked

you here to meet old friends, I can hardly object if you let

them  take precedence over me." His black plate eyes  turned

to  Admiral  Ackbar. "For that matter, I  wish  the  admiral

would take precedence over me during this war."

He  wasn't alone in that wish, Luke knew. It  couldn't

have  been easy for Sien Sow to be the successor to a legend

like Ackbar, and Sow's modesty and hard work were hardly the

sort  of gifts to fill the void left by Ackbar's genius  and

charisma.  Sow might have done better if his term  had  been

blessed  by  peace,  since his administrative  talents  were

genuine  and he could have kept the service running at  high

efficiency, but he'd been unlucky in being forced  to  fight

the wrong war against an enemy for whom the New Republic had

been completely unprepared.

Unlucky. It was the worst thing you could say about  a

military commander. Soldiers trusted a commander's luck much

more than they trusted a commander's intelligence.

'I  do not believe," Sow said gently, "that I have met

all your party'?"

Luke  apologized  again,  and  introduced  Jacen  and

Vergere.  Sow  complimented  them  both  on  their  survival

skills.

"And  young Solo," he added. "I am pleased  to  report

that  your sister is not only well, but has taken part in  a

major victory at Obroa-skai."

Apparently  comfortable with his ragged,  half-clothed

appearance,  Jacen  had  perched on a  chair  near  Vergere.

Honest relief broke across his face at the news.

"I  was  worried," he said. "I sensed she was  in  a-a

situation."

"An   entire Yuuzhan Vong fleet was attacked   by  our

fleet  combined with a squadron of Hapans. General Farlander

was  quite  explicit in his praise of Jaina. It appears  she

was responsible for much of the operational plan."

Jacen  listened  to  Sien  Sow  with  interest,  then

responded  cautiously. "Jaina planned  this  offensive?"  he

asked.

"Not  all the details, of course, but yes, the  attack

was  her  inspiration.  Two  Yuuzhan  Vong  troopships  were

destroyed,  with  tens of thousands of warriors.  Our  first

completely successful offensive battle."

Jacen nodded. "A good plan, then." His lips smiled, but

there was no smile in his eyes.

A light began pulsing on Sow's comm unit, and he put a

small listener to his ear for a private message.

"Your   pardon,"  he  said,  "but  I  alerted   Fleet

Intelligence  once I understood that Jacen and a-a  defector

were  on  their way. They would like to debrief the both  of

you."  His plate eyes turned to Jacen. "If you're physically

strong enough, of course."

Luke  couldn't  help but notice that  Vergere,  unlike

Jacen, was not being given a choice.

"I'm  willing." Jacen rose from his chair, then turned

to his avian companion. "Vergere?"

"Certainly."  The feathered Jedi wore  the  same  wry,

skeptical  expression she had worn when she'd first  stepped

out  of  the air lock and seen the soldiers with weapons  at

the ready.

"I suppose this will go on for a while," Jacen said to

Luke. "Since I don't know where I'll be staying, may I  have

your comm code?"

Luke assured Jacen that he was welcome to stay with him

and Mara, and gave Jacen his code. Then, turning to Vergere,

he repeated the offer.

"Vergere  may be detained a little longer than  Jacen,

unfortunately," Sow said, which only increased  the  cynical

look in Vergere's eye.

Vergere padded ahead of Jacen as the two made their way

out. Through the briefly open door Luke caught a glimpse  of

Ayddar   Nylykerka,   the  Tammarian   director   of   Fleet

Intelligence, at the head of a group of guards; and then the

door closed. He turned to Sien Sow.

"You're taking every precaution," he said.

"Yuuzhan Vong use of defectors and infiltrators is very

effective,"  the Sullustan said. "Before I free  her  to  go

where  she wishes, I want to make sure that Vergere is  what

she claims to be."

"I  know  what she claims to be," Luke said.  "I  just

wonder how she can be expected to prove it."

Chapter 12

Now  remember," Leia said, "we call it the Remnant, but

to these people it's still the Empire."

"An Empire without an Emperor," Han commented.

She patted his hand. "For which we may be thankful, my

dear." She sighed as a darker thought intruded. "And the New

Republic is something of a remnant these days, as well."

The  Millennium Falcon had finally completed its long,

dangerous crossing of enemy-dominated space to the  Imperial

capital  of  Bastion. A squadron of Imperial Star Destroyers

flew  escort close alongside, their long, wide hulls  almost

walling off the stars. Their destination wasn't  the  planet

at all but a Super Star Destroyer that stretched a full four

kilometers left and right from the docking port,  and  which

carried a crew larger than the population of cities. In  the

docking  bay, a military escort met Leia, officers quivering

at  the salute. Behind them was a military band that drummed

and thumped them the fifty or so meters to their shuttle,  a

deluxe   Lambda-class  vehicle  that  featured  a  passenger

compartment  with fixtures of solid gold and  a  soft-spoken

military aide who offered drinks and refreshments to fortify

Leia and Han for the ten-standard-minute trip to the world's

surface.

"The  Empire hasn't changed its style much," Han said.

He  tugged at the collar of his general's uniform. Leia  had

made  him wear full dress on the theory that Imperials  were

conditioned  to  defer automatically  to  anyone  wearing  a

uniform  with  sufficient badges of rank. Leia  herself  had

chosen  for  the occasion a gown that was as uniformlike  as

possible,  with  a high collar and a double row  of  jeweled

buttons down the front.

"Did you notice when Vana Dorja left us?" Leia asked.

Han  gave a startled look over one shoulder. The  only

person to share the compartment with them was  the aide, who

had  perched on a chair a tactful distance away, far  enough

to  permit  them  to speak in lowered voices  without  being

overheard.

"No," Han answered.

"I'll  lay you a wager that Grand Admiral Pellaeon  is

listening to her report right now," Leia said.

"I don't take sucker bets."

The Lambda-class shuttle dropped close to the planet's

surface  and sailed low down a long avenue, past  formations

of thousands of stormtroopers and uniformed fleet personnel,

all  bracing into a salute as the shuttle drifted past.  The

late-afternoon  sun  stretched the  soldiers'  long  shadows

across the pavement, producing the illusion that each ranked

formation was followed by a dark legion of ghosts.

"Quite a welcome," Han said.

"They're trying to show us what valuable allies they'd

make. Troops galore, a Super Star Destroyer, precious metals

plating the furniture . . ."

"And what do they expect us to give them in return for

all this?"

Leia gave her husband a significant look. "They'll tell

us, I'm sure."

The  shuttle  began to float upward as  it  approached

Imperial  Headquarters, a stupendous  monolith  of  polished

black  marble, gleaming bronze, and dark reflective windows,

with  shield generators and turbolaser installations perched

on  a  series  of stepped-back ledges from which  emerged  a

final,  slim  pinnacle that stretched  upward  to  a  bright

crystalline starburst at the very top. It was as if a  giant

black  fist had raised a single finger to indicate that  the

galaxy  could  have  only one law, one government,  and  one

absolute ruler.

It was toward the starburst that the shuttle rose.  It

lined  up  on one of the long crystal rays of the starburst,

then  brought  its docking arm to its tip and hovered  there

effortlessly on its repulsorlifts.

The  aide rose from his seat and stepped to the hatch.

"I hope you enjoyed your flight," he said, and at a touch of

his fingers the hatch hissed open. The crystal ray, fragile-

seeming from the ground, was actually a quite sturdy docking

arm,  transparent crystal supported by a strong silver-alloy

skeleton.

Leia thanked the aide, straightened her shoulders, and

marched down the tube, with Han one pace behind and off  her

right  shoulder.  After about sixty meters the  docking  arm

ended  in  a  large  glittering  room  roofed  with  faceted

crystal.  To  Leia's  surprise  she  realized  it   was   an

arboretum,  filled with thousands of bright exotic  blossoms

spilling  out  of their neat rows. Their fragrance  perfumed

the air. The setting sun set their petals aflame.

As  if  in deliberate contrast to the brilliant  color

that rose in profusion behind him, Gilad Pellaeon dressed in

the plain white uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral. He had

put  on ten kilos since Leia had last seen him, and his hair

and  bristling mustaches were white. But alert  intelligence

still shone in his dark eyes, and his pace was brisk and his

clasp  firm as he walked to the docking port to take  Leia's

hand.

"Princess." Pellaeon gave her a courtly bow.

"Supreme Commander."

Pellaeon greeted Han as well, but did not bow over his

hand. He stepped back and turned again to Leia.

"I received an urgent message for you from New Republic

Fleet  Command,"  he said. "They failed to contact  you  and

wished me to relay the message to you."

Leia took an involuntary step back as her heart gave a

lurch. Jaina! During the Borleias campaign Leia had seen for

herself  the relentless way Jaina was driving herself,  both

against  the  Yuuzhan  Vong and against  the  darkness  that

threatened  to claim her soul. Jaina was far  too  young  to

cope  with the constant tragedy and loss that had been  hers

since  the  beginning of the war, her friends  and  comrades

killed  in  action, her teachers lost, her  brother  Ana-kin

killed  before her eyes, and Jacen gone to ...  to  wherever

Jacen  had  gone. In response Jaina had grown hard,  but  to

grow  hard was also to risk growing brittle. Jaina had  been

riding with death sharing her cockpit for far too long,  and

it  was  only  her ferocious willpower that was keeping  her

from toppling over the brink.

Her willpower, which must one day fail, along with her

luck. Which bad failed. Leia knew it.

Han's  strong hands caught Leia's shoulders and buoyed

her up.

A smile drew itself across Pellaeon's face. "Good news,

Princess!" he said. "Your son Jacen has escaped the  Yuuzhan

Vong. He's arrived at Mon Calamari in good health."

Leia  felt  her  knees weaken, and willed  herself  to

remain  upright. Without Han's support she  might  not  have

succeeded.  Whatever minor doubts she might have  had  about

Jacen's  survival  had  been  erased  days  ago  when  she'd

received his Force message, but still she should have  known

an official transmission would follow.

It  wasn't about Jaina after all. It wasn't about more

death, more sorrow, more grief.

"Yes!" Han hissed in her ear. "Did you hear that, Leia?

Jacen's alive!"

His  arms  wrapped her from behind, and she  felt  the

ferocious joy of his embrace. Dizzily she realized  that  he

hadn't  entirely believed her last assurance  about  Jacen's

survival.  He loved her, and so had consciously  decided  to

believe  her,  an  act  of will, but still  a  part  of  him

doubted, and that part wanted official word.

With effort Leia summoned speech.

"Thank you, Supreme Commander," she said. "You've-"

Still  wrapping  Leia  in  his  arms,  Han  gave   an

unrestrained whoop of pleasure that nearly deafened her.

"You've  made  us  very  happy,"  she  finished,  more

understated than she would have liked.

"If you would like to use our channels to send your son

a message, you are welcome," Pellaeon offered.

"Certainly. Thank you."

Han's  message-way to go, sprout!-was composed quickly

enough, but Leia's was more measured and took longer.

"Once   again,  Jacen,"  she  dictated  into  Admiral

Pellaeon's comm, "you have answered a mother's prayers."

"An  elegant sentiment," Pellaeon judged. A wry  smile

formed  beneath  his white mustache. "Jacen  seems  to  have

inherited his parents' gift for escaping capture."

"As well as our gift for getting captured in the first

place," Han said.

Pellaeon  gestured toward the garden and its profusion

of  bright blossoms. "Shall I show you my garden?" he asked.

"We can speak privately about your embassy."

Leia  hesitated. "Won't I need to speak to  others  as

well?"

"The  Empire  is  not  run  by  committee,  Princess,"

Pellaeon reminded. "If I find that the Moff Council needs to

know the substance of your message, then I'll be the one who

tells them."

Pellaeon drew Leia and Han along the rows of blossoms,

pointing with obvious pride to his hybrid native orchids, to

rainbow-colored fungi from Bakura, to lofty yellow  Pydyrian

blossoms that so strangely resembled the moon's tall,  aloof

sentients. Contentment rose in Leia at  the sight and  scent

of the flowers, at Pellaeon's pleasure in them.

"I  had  no  idea you were a gardener, Admiral,"  Leia

said.

"Every  ruler  should have a garden,"  Pellaeon  said.

"It's always useful to draw lessons from nature."

"True." Leia cupped a vast pink blossom and lifted  it

to her face, inhaled its scent.

"From a garden one learns to cull the weak and unfit,"

Pellaeon  continued,  "and  to  encourage  the  strong   and

vigorous." He held up his thumb and forefinger. "An inferior

bud soon feels the strength of my pinch!"

Leia sighed and straightened, letting the blossom fall

from  her fingers. She supposed it was too much to hope that

she  could  stay for long on Bastion without being  reminded

what the Empire was really about.

Han  gave Pellaeon's pinching hand an appraising look.

"And you make your plants grow in rows," he said.

"Each  receives  its  proper allotment  of  space  and

sunlight,  and no more," Pellaeon said. "That's fair,  don't

you think?"

"But plants don't naturally grow in rows," Han pointed

out. "This is only possible-" He gave a deliberate glance at

the  glass  arboretum  overhead. "-in  a  highly  artificial

environment."

Bravo! Leia thought at her husband. 7 swear FU make  a

diplomat of you yet!

Pellaeon gave a judicious smile. "You prefer the state

of  nature, then? I think you will find that in a  state  of

nature,  the weak are culled hi a far more merciless fashion

than you find here."

Leia took her husband's arm. "Let's say that I prefer a

balance," she said. "There should be enough nature  so  that

the plants can thrive by following their natures, if you see

what I mean."

"That   notion  of  balance  is  derived  from   Jedi

philosophy, if I'm not mistaken," Pellaeon said.  "But  such

hybrid beauty as you see here"-he indicated the blossom Leia

had just cupped in her hands-"is not a matter of balance, or

nature,  but  a contest of wills. The will of the  gardener,

and  the  will of the plant he must coerce into surrendering

her treasure."

Leia  dropped Han's arm and sighed again. "I see we're

doomed to talk about politics.," she said.

Pellaeon gave her one of his courtly bows. "I fear so,

Princess."

"The  New Republic," Leia said, "would like to request

that  the  Empire furnish us its maps of routes through  the

Deep Core."

"Those,"  Pellaeon said, "are among our  most  closely

held secrets."

During the Rebellion, the Empire had held out for years

in  the galaxy's Deep Core. The Imperials' knowledge of  the

narrow, twisting paths among the closely packed star  masses

was  unmatched; though the Rebels had finally cleared  their

enemies  out  of  the Core, it had been grinding  work,  and

probably   a   good   many  of  the  Empire's   routes   lay

undiscovered.

"There  are no more Imperial bases in the Deep  Core,"

Leia  said, "so the information has no value to you. On  the

other  hand, you're aware of how useful such bases would  be

to  the  New Republic now that Coruscant is gone. And,"  she

added,  seeing the skeptical look on Pellaeon's  face,  "you

know that  the longer we tie up the Yuuzhan Vong in mopping-

up operations around the Deep Core, the less likely they are

to look at Bastion as their next conquest."

"I have no fear for the safety of my capital," Pellaeon

said.

Then  you haven't been paying attention, Leia thought.

But she knew that Pellaeon didn't mean this in all truth; it

was   probably  just  one  of  those  things  that   Supreme

Commanders of totalitarian regimes were expected to say.

"Once,"  Leia said, "I had no fear for the  safety  of

Coruscant."

Which wasn't exactly true, either.

"Perhaps  you  would like some refreshment,"  Pellaeon

said.  He took Leia's arm and escorted her down the  row  of

blossoms  that seemed to get more extravagant  and  colorful

the farther they traveled. Han followed, pretending interest

in the flowers.

"I hope you can offer me something in exchange for this

information,"  he said. "The Moff Council won't  want  these

secrets given up."

Leia smiled. "Didn't you just say that you'd tell them

what you wanted them to know?"

"I  will.  But unfortunately," he added,  "their  busy

little  minds  are capable of drawing their own conclusions,

and  it  would be useful for them to know that something  of

equal value was given in exchange."

Leia   had  anticipated  this.  Offer,  counteroffer,

outright  payment,  blackmail-all the arsenal  of  politics.

"The  New  Republic  would be pleased to offer  in  exchange

everything we know about the Yuuzhan Vong. Weapons, tactics,

communications, internal organization, the whole package."

"Communications?" Pellaeon pounced on the word. "You've

discovered that secret?"

"We have," Leia said. Thank you, Danni Quee.

"Obsolete  Core  routes in exchange for  the  greatest

secret  of the Yuuzhan Vong," Pellaeon mused. "I predict  no

trouble with the Moff Council."

Leia was pleased to hear this, but if necessary she had

been  perfectly prepared to give the information to Pellaeon

free  of charge. As far as she was concerned, anything  that

weakened  the Yuuzhan Vong relative to everyone else  was  a

positive good.

They  came to the end of the row of plants,  and  Leia

discovered  a  circular space surrounded by  the  trunks  of

Gamorrean  coolsap trees, with their dense canopy  providing

an  arbor  overhead. Beneath the foliage a grand buffet  had

been  laid out on a hollow, circular table, a long array  of

silver  chafing  dishes along with great  bowls  of  salads,

fruit,  and  a selection of desserts and pastry. One  entire

table  was  covered  with a glittering selection  of  choice

liquors.  In  the center of the circle was a  crystal-topped

table set for three, the plates arranged around a bouquet of

the most exquisite blossoms  the arboretum had to offer.

"Please  forgive the informality and help yourselves,"

Pellaeon said.

Han  eyed the banquet skeptically. "We're sharing this

meal with which regiment?" he asked.

Pellaeon  smiled  beneath  his  white  mustache.  "Our

previous  meetings really hadn't given me an  idea  of  your

tastes. So I ordered a little of everything."

"Must  be  good to be on top of the food  chain,"  Han

commented.

Leia thanked Pellaeon and thought, Now I know how  you

gained those extra ten kilos.

Leia  and  Pellaeon talked through the  meal,  but  of

matters  of  no  importance.  Talking  of  matters   of   no

importance  was  an important political skill.  Later,  over

cups of nans-bud tea, Leia resumed.

"After  you've  had  the  opportunity  to  review  the

information we've gathered on the Yuuzhan Vong," she  began,

"I hope the Empire will accept our offer of alliance against

the enemy."

Pellaeon raised his white eyebrows. "I expected you to

raise the matter earlier," he said.

"Dinner first," Leia said. "War later."

Pellaeon laughed. "Very civilized."

"The main forces of the Yuuzhan Vong are facing the New

Republic  now," Leia said. "You could cut their supply  line

from the Rim with very little effort."

Pellaeon gave her a dubious look. "I can present  your

offer to the Moff Council," he said, "but I know what they'd

say."

"Yes?"

"They would ask how the Empire would benefit from this

action."

"Surely the Empire would benefit by helping to rid the

galaxy of a menace like the Yuuzhan Vong."

Pellaeon considered this, then shook his head. "I would

rather not go to the Moff Council with this offer," he said.

"They won't approve it."

Jag  Eel's voice whispered in Leia's memory. It  would

really  make more sense in the short term for the Empire  to

join  the  Vong  ...  Leia found a muscle  behind  one  knee

trembling, and she stilled it. "Why not?" she asked.

"Because, quite frankly, the New Republic is losing its

war,"  Pellaeon  said. "Your forces are undisciplined,  your

government  is in disarray, your capital is lost,  and  your

Chief of State was tortured to death in his own office.  Why

should the Empire join such a debacle?"

Leia silently cursed Vana Dorja and the report Pellaeon

had doubtless heard before this meeting.

But  maybe  that  wasn't fair, she  thought;  Pellaeon

didn't need Vana Dorja for this.

"If we join with you now, you'll only drag us down with

you,"  Pellaeon  continued. He hesitated. "That's  what  the

Moff Council would say."

That's what you say, Leia translated.

"Now,  if  you  start  to win  some  real  victories,"

Pellaeon  went  on,  "then  the  Moffs'  position  would  be

altered.  But you'd have to convince us you're not  dragging

us  into  a  disaster." His dark eyes looked quite  solemnly

into hers. "And that, Princess, is the truth."

"Well," Leia said, "that's that."

Something  shifted in Pellaeon's face. "On  the  other

hand,"  he said, "if you could offer something to  the  Moff

Council. Something concrete ..."

"Such as?" Leia queried.

"The  Moff  Council  is  impressed  by  real  things,"

Pellaeon  said. "Solid things. For instance, if  the  Empire

could  retain any worlds we took from the Yuuzhan  Vong,  it

would impress the Moffs considerably. Not" he added, at  the

protest  in  Leia's face, "any worlds that still  have  your

population on them. Only those the Yuuzhan Vong have  remade

for  themselves." He nodded confidingly. "I think  the  Moff

Council is most impressed by worlds, Princess."

The Empire could double its size, taking its choice of

worlds,  and it would cost the Yuuzhan Vong nothing  .  .  .

Again Jag's voice whispered in Leia's mind.

Leia managed to seize control of her whirling thoughts.

"I-  I  have  no  authority to make such a concession,"  she

said.  "And in any case, there are millions of refugees  who

want their worlds back."

"They would be welcome in the Empire," Pellaeon  said.

"I  think  we could support them better than could your  own

overstrained resources."

Then  you can prune and cull to your heart's  content.

Leia  saw  the  cynical  remark in  Han's  brown  eyes,  but

fortunately Han didn't speak it out loud.

"As I said," Leia managed, "I have no authority to make

such a concession."

"But you will take my words back to your government?"

Leia nodded. "Certainly."

If we have a, government when I get back, she thought.

It  wasn't until long after Shimrra had dismissed them

all  that  Norn Anor thought to question what had  happened,

and then it was Yoog Skell who spoke the words that made him

stop  and think. The delegation had walked in procession  to

the  Damutek of the Intendants and broken up, and Nom Anor's

path  lay  alongside that of his master, walking  along  the

coiled  corridors of the damutek, breathing in  the  healthy

organic  stench of  the building as young intendants  dodged

respectfully to the side.

"So," Yoog Skell said, "you have seen the power of the

Supreme Overlord."

"Indeed, High Prefect."

"You  felt  his  mind  on  yours,  I  know,  when  he

interrogated you."

Nom Anor recoiled inwardly at the memory of the mental

pressure that had squeezed him dry. "Yes," he said.

"Never think to lie to the Supreme One. He will know."

"Never," Nom Anor agreed. "I'll never think it."

Yoog  Skell gave him a sidelong glance. "Did you  feel

the  Supreme  One  again when he incited us against  Ch'Gang

Hool?"

Nom  Anor  almost stumbled as he walked alongside  his

leader. "High Prefect? "he said.

"Oh  yes,"  Yoog Skell said, "unless  you  think  it's

normal  for high-caste Yuuzhan Vong to scream and  rant  and

drool in that way."

The  breath went out of Nom Anor in a long, awed hiss.

The  Supreme  Overlord had created that? Turned his  closest

subordinates into a mob of murderous fiends rejoicing at the

fall of one of their number?

"Oh  yes," Yoog Skell said, "the gods have  given  him

that power, among others." His voice turned reflective. "Not

that  Ch'Gang  Hool  is  such a loss. His  ambitions  always

exceeded his talents. I remember an Escalatier Ceremony that

he performed for one of my most talented advisers, young Fal

Tivvik. A fairly basic procedure, I recall, but-as our  high

priest  would say-'the gods discovered a flaw' in  the  poor

girl,  and she joined the Shamed Ones. I have myself  always

wondered whether the flaw might instead have been in Ch'Gang

Hool."

Nom  Anor  gave  his superior a sharp glance-the  high

prefect's words flirted with heresy. But Yoog Skell was in a

reflective mood, and he continued.

"Perhaps  you remember Fazak Tsun, another of  Ch'Gang

Hool's  unfortunates," he said. He paused as he came  before

the  door  to his chamber, and turned to face Nom  Anor.  He

dropped a heavy hand on his subordinate's shoulder.

"You have made mistakes, Executor," he said, "and  now

you  see  what happens when too many mistakes  come  to  the

attention of the Supreme Overlord."

"Yes,  High Prefect." Nom Anor's mind ran so  fast  he

could almost hear the wheels spinning. "How do you suggest I

avoid Ch'Gang Hool's fate?"

"Don't  make  any  more  mistakes,"  Yoog  Skell  said

blandly.  The door behind him quivered open, and he  stepped

through it.

"And my particular advice, Executor," Yoog Skell added,

"is that whatever you do, don't give the Supreme Overlord an

itch, particularly one he can't scratch in public."

The  door shimmered shut behind him and left Nom  Anor

alone in the corridor. He was thinking hard.

The stars streamed aft, and Han sat back in the pilot's

seat  and  gave Leia a grim smile. "Well," he said.  "That's

that. Next stop, Mon Calamari."

The day after their meeting in the arboretum, Leia and

Han  had  returned Grand Admiral Pellaeon's  hospitality  by

having  him  to  dinner  on  board  the  Millennium  Falcon.

Pellaeon  and  Leia exchanged disks: he had  given  her  the

charts of the Deep Core hyper-space routes, and she gave him

everything  the  New Republic knew about the  Yuuzhan  Vong.

Then  formal  toasts  had  begun,  with  Leia  toasting  the

Empire-it  had  been  getting easier with  repetition-  then

Pellaeon  toasting the New Republic, and, very  kindly,  the

success and survival of Jacen Solo.

Then  Pellaeon had presented Han with a new hyperspace

comm  antenna to replace the one shot off in the fight  with

the  Yuuzhan  Vong. If there were any more  bulletins  about

Jacen or any other friends or family, Han and Leia would  be

able to receive them without Pellaeon acting as a relay.

Han eased himself out of the pilot's seat. "I want  to

get that antenna installed at our next jump point," he said,

"and  get your message and a copy of that Deep Core map  off

to  the capital. And I'm going to send a copy of the map  to

Wedge  Antilles,  too, just in case no one  in  the  capital

knows what to do with it."

"Good  idea."  An  idea  struck  Leia.  "I  wonder  if

Pellaeon's antenna has been tampered with. Maybe anything we

send will be transmitted to Imperial Headquarters."

"It  won't matter," Han said. "The Empire already  has

the information they gave us."

"True."

"I'll replace the antenna again, with one of our  own,

when we get back to Mon Calamari."

Leia followed Han to the galley. He looked at her. "So

were those Core charts worth this trip?"

"Yes.  We  can  keep fighters in the Core  for  years,

raiding the Yuuzhan Vong."

"Even though  the Empire isn't about to attack."

"Not without preconditions, anyway."

Han looked grim. "He had a lot of nerve asking for our

planets," he said.

"They're not our planets anymore, which I suppose  was

his  point. But I think that was just a test. If I'd  agreed

to his idea, it would have told him how desperate we arc."

Han's tone turned thoughtful. "Would that have brought

him into the war, or scared him off?"

"Good question." Leia considered the matter. "I  think

I've come to the conclusion that we don't want the Empire in

this war."

Han was startled. "You sure? All those Star Destroyers?

Those troops?"

"That's right," Leia said. "Pellaeon said he'd join us

if  we started winning victories. But once we start winning,

we  don't  need the Empire any longer. What Pellaeon  really

wants  are concessions ahead of time, and then to be at  the

peace table when it's over. He wants a peace that serves the

Empire's interests."

Han  began slicing up charbote root. "And here  I  was

starting to think that Pellaeon was a good guy."

Leia  made an equivocal motion of her hand.  "I'm  not

saying he isn't., at least by Imperial standards. But he's a

head  of  state,  and he has to look out  for  that  state's

benefit.  He didn't persuade the Empire to end the war  with

the  New Republic on the grounds that it was the moral thing

to  do, he did it by persuading the Moris that it was in the

Empire's  best interests. Right now the Remnant  has  barely

recovered  from  the last war-why should Pellaeon  get  into

another   life-and-death  struggle  unless   it's   to   his

advantage?"

"I guess," Han said.

"Not too much charbote root, Han," Leia said.

"I'm a Corellian. I like charbote root." But he stopped

cutting,  and instead gathered the root slices  and  dropped

them into the saucepan. Then he turned to her.

"Do  you know," he said. "I'm not sure I need any food

right now."

"Really?"  She  frowned down at the  stove.  "Normally

you're ravenous at this time of day."

"What  I just remembered," Han said, "is that  we  had

hoped to be alone together on this voyage. And that now that

Grand  Admirals and Imperial spies are off the ship, we  are

alone."

"Oh." She blinked at him. "Oh my." The look in his eyes

made her skin flush with warmth.

He  took her in his arms. "I think we deserve a little

time together," he said, "don't you?"

Chapter 13

Pray  to the Pardoner Yun-Shuno," the Shamed One  said.

"Pray  that her promises will soon be fulfilled.  Pray  that

the  Jeedai soon liberate us from those who oppress us  with

terror and violence."

"So we pray!" the tiny group echoed. Some of them, even

as  they chanted the response, did not cease from scratching

at  the fungus that tormented them. Beneath the sound of the

ceremony  was  the  constant  whisper  of  fingers   against

inflamed skin.

"So  we  pray!"  Nom Anor echoed the  words  with  the

others. Wearing an ooglith masquer that disguised him  as  a

common  worker, he had infiltrated the tiny heretical  sect.

This was his second meeting.

infiltration was one of his skills, and he had  fooled

more suspicious folk than these fools.

But  no more, he thought as he scratched idly  at  one

leg. These people are doomed.

There  were  fewer than a dozen in the  little  group,

which  met in the shadowy lower levels of a minor office  of

the  intendants, a place normally empty at night. The  group

was  led  by a Shamed One, a former member of the  intendant

caste  whose arm implant had gone spectacularly  wrong,  and

still  dripped  a  trail  of slime wherever  he  went.  Even

workers  should  have had better taste  than  to  listen  to

anything said by this pitiful creature.

It  was  plain curiosity that had driven Nom  Anor  to

infiltrate the sect. Was this group such a mighty threat  to

orthodoxy as High Priest Jakan had said? Was the message  of

redemption by Jedi so powerful that it constituted a  danger

to the Yuuzhan Vong and all they stood for?

When the meeting was over, Nom Anor made his way out of

the structure through a door used only by workers.

The night of Yuuzhan'tar was cool and refreshingly free

of  the  scent  of the Shamed Ones' rotting flesh.  A  night

breeze  soothed  Nom  Anor's  flaming  skin.  Phosphorescent

lichen  shone  on bits of undigested rubble, relics  of  the

planet's  old civilization that were gradually being  broken

down into more useful, basic elements. By the phosphorescent

light  Nom  Anor wandered away from the center  of  the  new

Yuuzhan  Vong  city  into  an area  of  wreckage  and  half-

dissolved   rubble  that  had  not  yet  been  cleared   for

settlement. He wanted to be free of distraction so  that  he

could think.

The  workers'  heresy  was an  incoherent  muddle,  he

thought.   And  yet,  if  the  heretics  had  a  leader,   a

prophet-no,  a Prophet- someone who knew how to  adapt  this

doctrine into a weapon, then they would become something  to

reckon with.

Obedience, yes, but not obedience to the ruling castes;

obedience to the Prophet. Outward passivity and humility  to

those  they  considered  their oppressors,  but  inside  the

keenest  resentment  and  hatred,  and  an  arrogance   that

demanded  a galaxy. Someone-yes, someone like Nom  Anor  who

had  spread  a  religious doctrine on  Rhommamool  that  had

caused   the  inhabitants  to  destroy  themselves   in   an

interplanetary war-someone like Nom Anor could make  out  of

these  heretics  something  very  dangerous.  All  that  was

necessary  was to create a tipping point, a point  at  which

the  arrogance  and  hatred could be  brought  to  overwhelm

passivity and caution, and then the heretics would become an

army.

Yes, it was lucky these heretics were being suppressed.

Scratching himself on the elbows, Norn Anor turned back

toward  the city, and in the sky saw the spiraling  rainbows

created  by  the  dovin basals on the great hovering  palace

that  housed  Shimrra. Now there is power, he  thought.  But

what rainbows have these here-tics cast?

He  walked  back toward the settled area, and  to  his

surprise found himself walking along a clearly defined road.

He hadn't realized that the shapers had grown roads out this

far.

And then he saw something coming toward him along  the

road,  a  riding quednak with someone astride it.  Nom  Anor

stepped to the side of the road, and-in his character  as  a

simple worker- bowed in servitude with his arms crossed.  It

was  only as the scaled, six-legged creature thumped by that

Nom Anor thought he recognized the silhouette of the rider.

Onimi. That bulbous, misshapen head was unmistakable.

What was the Supreme Overlord's familiar doing here, so

far from the palace and any of the centers of government?

Nom Anor thought for a long moment as the beast thudded

into the distance, and then followed.

Kashyyyk  was  a  brilliant  green  crescent  in  the

glittering darkness of space, and around it Jaina could  see

the  silver gleam of the New Republic capital ships that had

turned  the  planet  into one of the New Republic's  forward

bases.

She  was  in  command of Trickster, tensed  under  the

cognition hood in case enemy were present as they jumped out

of  hyperspace. Instead a message of jubilant  welcome  came

from  the  elements  of  the New  Republic  fleet  that  had

remained behind at their new base, and she and the  rest  of

the fleet had stood down from their alert.

Lowbacca growled cheerfully.

"I'd love to join your family on Kashyyyk," Jaina said.

"A  furlough in the green trees would be ideal."  Just  what

she needed to ease the tension she felt in her shoulders and

arms, the dirge of grief and sorrow that played in her mind,

the sadness that flooded her heart.

Lights  flashed on the comm system that  Lowbacca  had

jacked  into  the Yuuzhan Vong ship, and the unit  tweedled.

[Message from the flagship,] Lowie said.

"What does  the general want?" Jaina wondered.

[It's not Farlander,] the Wookiee said- [The message is

from Admiral Kre'fey. He wants you and General Farlander  to

report on board Ralroost-"at your earliest convenience,"  he

says.]

And now we pay for our success, Jaina thought.

"O  great  warrior, is this the damutek of  the  noble

intendant Hooley Krekk?"

Tattoos on the warrior's face creased as she scowled at

Nom  Anor. She waved her amphistaff in the direction of  the

city.

"You are not permitted here! Get your miserable carcass

back to your barracks!"

Nom Anor, still in his worker guise, bobbed in feigned

humility.  "With all respect, O Commander, if this  is   the

damutek of Hooley Krekk, then I am permitted here."

The  warrior  was not appeased by Nom Anor's  casually

promoting  her  two  degrees. "This is not  the  damutek  of

Hooley Krekk! Now begone!"

It  was not the damutek of Hooley Krekk, whom Nom Anor

had  just  invented  on the spot, but  it  was  the  heavily

guarded  damutek to which the Shamed One Onimi had traveled,

a  fact  proven by Onimi's riding beast seen standing before

the  building and quietly licking a fungus-covered rock. The

damutek  was  a  large, bulbous, three-lobed structure  that

radiated a faint pinkish light. There was at least a platoon

of  warriors  either on guard or camped in the vicinity,  so

whatever  the function of the building might be, it  was  of

some importance.

And standing in the entrance to the damutek, a pair of

Yuu-zhan Vong were in conversation, their distinctive living

headdresses marking them as shapers.

"Oh,  woe!  Oh,  misery!  Oh,  unhappiness!"  Slapping

himself on  the head repeatedly, Nom Anor pranced about in a

little circle.

This  was enough to attract two more warriors, one  of

them a subaltern, unusually short, with stringy hair.

"What is the meaning of this?" the subaltern demanded.

The warrior explained, and the subaltern turned to Nom Anor.

"There is no Hooley Krekk here! Now get back to  where

you belong!"

"But I belong at the damutek of Hooley Krekk!" Nom Anor

wailed.  "I was given very explicit directions-left  at  the

Square  of  Hierarchy, then south to the  Boulevard  of  the

Crushing  of the Infidels, then right at the Temple  of  the

Modeler,  then on down the long road to the end."  He  began

slapping  himself again. "Oh woe! My supervisor will  punish

me!"

"I'll  punish you if you don't get out of  here!"  the

subaltern said. He cocked his amphistaff over his shoulder.

Nom  Anor  fell on his face and groveled  before   the

others.  "May I beg the officer's pardon? May I ask where  I

went wrong?"

"Tow  went  wrong  when you were  born,"  one  of  the

warriors joked, and the other laughed.

"Where is this damutek?" Nom Anor asked. "What is  the

name  of  this  place, so that I can explain  to  my  master

Hooley Krekk how I came to be here?"

"This damutek is for shapers only!" the subaltern said.

His  amphistaff  slashed down like a whip, and  fire  burned

along Nom Anor's back. "Now clear out before they stick  you

in their blasted cortex!"

Nom   Anor  scuttled  away  sideways  like  a   great

crustacean,  then  rose to his feet and  scurried  down  the

road.  Inwardly, despite the pain that flamed down his back,

he   gave   a  smile  of  satisfaction.  Warriors   are   so

predictable, he thought.

Cortex  was  a  shaper term for some kind  of  shaping

protocol  or technique, which meant that this was  a  shaper

project  secret  enough to move some  distance  out  of  the

capital,  where  its  business could go on  unobserved,  and

important enough to station warriors as its permanent guard.

The two shapers seen in the entrance only confirmed this.

And Onimi was a part of it somehow.

Nom  Anor stumbled on a fault in the road, and at  the

jar fresh pain shot along his back. That warrior hadn't held

back  when he'd slashed down with the amphistaff. Nom Anor's

teeth  ground as he thought of the arrogant little pipsqueak

with  a  weapon  longer than he was, and he  cast  an  angry

glance over his shoulder at the sawed-off subaltern with his

two warriors. I'll remember this, he thought.

And  then he thought of the heretics at their meeting,

the anger and hatred that they couldn't acknowledge even  to

themselves, and he thought: Yes. This is how it starts.

Jaina combed her hair and changed out of her coveralls

to  walking-out dress, which was as smart as she  could  get

for  the admiral, since her full-dress uniform hadn't caught

up  to her as she'd moved through her last several postings.

Walking-out  dress,  however, was still sufficiently  formal

that  she felt uncomfortable, and kept tugging at her collar

as she sat with Farlander in the shuttle that carried her to

the admiral's Bothan Assault Cruiser.

One  of Kre'fey's Bothan aides met Jaina and Farlander

at  the lock, and escorted them to the admiral's suite.  The

cruiser's air had a spicy alien scent.

When  they reached Kre'fey's quarters, they were  kept

waiting a quarter of an hour by a secretary until they  were

called in to meet the admiral. Kre'fey was alone in a formal

briefing room, standing at the head of a long, empty  table.

Farlander and Jaina approached the admiral and saluted.

"General   Farlander  and  Major  Solo  reporting  as

ordered, Admiral."

Kre'fey's  milk-white fur rippled as he  returned  the

salute. "You have your report?"

"Yes,  sir."  Farlander handed  the  admiral  a  disk.

Kre'fey  dropped  it  in  a  reader  and  glanced   at   the

information.  "One capital ship lost, another disabled,"  he

said.  "Nearly a hundred starfighters lost, with only  forty

percent  of the crews rescued-all in an unauthorized  action

to  chase an enemy Supreme Commander who wasn't even  there,

and  following  an  operational plan  devised  by  a  junior

lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Farlander admitted.

"And  a  stunning  victory," Kre'fey continued,  still

reading.  "Seven enemy capital ships destroyed,  a  pair  of

transports  holding  thousands of warriors,  and  a  Supreme

Commander  killed along with his flagship." His eyes  lifted

first to Jaina, then to Farlander.

"My  warmest congratulations to the both of  you,"  he

said.  "I wish my other subordinates demonstrated this  kind

of  initiative." He shook Farlander's hand. "Brilliant work!

I will put you both in for commendations."

Jaina flushed at the warmth of the admiral's response.

She felt the tension in her wire-strung muscles ease. "Thank

you,  sir,"  she  murmured, and then was  surprised  to  see

Kre'fey  step before her, then pause for a long moment  with

his gold-flecked violet eyes fixed on her.

"I  wished to sec you in comparative privacy in  order

that  I  might  give  you some news of your  family."  Jaina

stared  at  him in rising horror and felt herself brace  for

it,  her  parents  dead or captured, or perhaps  little  Ben

Skywalker ambushed in the Maw and killed.

"Your  brother  Jacen has escaped the  enemy  and  has

arrived  safely  on Mon Calamari," Kre'fey said.  "When  you

have  a  chance to catch up with your personal messages,  no

doubt you'll hear the story in more detail."

Jaina stared at Kre'fey in cold astonishment. "Are you

sure, sir?" she said. "I saw him, and the Yuuzhan Vong-I was

there-"

"Of  course it's true," Kre'fey said. "Your  brother's

been on the holonews-he's very much alive."

Jaina could only gape at him. Why didn't I know? It had

been  Jaina who had insisted on the reality of Jacen's death

in  the  face  of her mother's belief in his  survival.  Why

didn't  he  reach me through our twin bond? she demanded  of

herself. And then an answer came to her.

Because I cut him off. She had been driven into a near-

mad  frenzy by Anakin's death and Jacen's capture;  she  had

embraced the dark and turned her life to vengeance. She  had

cut  off all contact with those she loved. Including  Jacen,

who must have needed her dreadfully.

She  pictured Jacen calling to her over and over,  and

receiving  no answer. He must have thought I was dead.  What

kind of despair had she brought him?

She tasted bitter failure on her tongue.

"Would you like to sit down, Jaina?" Farlander's voice

floated toward her from beyond the shadowy wall that cloaked

her mind.

"Yes," she answered. "If I may."

She  groped  her way to a chair, and  as  she  lowered

herself  into it, she managed to remember the niceties.  She

looked up at Traest Kre'fey. "Thank you, Admiral," she said.

"I appreciate your telling me this way."

"It was the least I could do for our new hero," Kre'fey

said as he took the seat at the head of the table. "You  and

General Farlander have given us a great victory, and I would

like  you  to  give me an informal briefing  now,  before  I

arrange a full staff conference tomorrow."

"Very  good, sir," Farlander said. Even as he answered

Kre'fey, his concerned eyes still rested on Jaina.

"Your  tactics  involving the  Jedi?"  Kre'fey  asked.

"Creating a kind of meld? Were they successful?"

"They  worked, but we had too few units with  Jedi  in

them,"  Jaina said. "We need more Jedi in order to  make  it

really  useful. And even then it doesn't always  work."  Her

thoughts  darkened  as she remembered Myrkr.  "If  the  Jedi

aren't  in  agreement among themselves, the  meld  can  fall

apart."

Kre'fey brushed aside all doubt. "I'll put in a request

for  as many Jedi pilots as they can send us. Who knows what

the high command will make of it?"

"Who blows?" Jaina repeated. The New Republic had never

quite decided what to do with Jedi in this war, but then the

honors were even-the Jedi hadn't been quite sure what to  do

with themselves.

"I'd  like  to  share some other news," Kre'fey  said.

"I've just returned from Bothawui, where the mourning for my

cousin  Borsk  Fey'lya has now ended. While I was  there,  I

managed to meet with a good many important Bothans, and  I'm

pleased to report that I achieved some success."

"That's very good, sir," Farlander said.

"As  you  may know, intrigue is common among Bothans,"

Kre'fey  said. "The periods when we arc united as a  species

are rare, and usually occur only when we are facing a common

danger, as we did during the Empire. But now, as a result of

Chief  of  State  Fey'lya's death,  the Bothan  Council  has

decided to declare that the highest state of war now  exists

between Bothawui and the Yuuzhan Vong."

Something in  Kre'fey's phrasing caused Jaina  to look

up.

"Highest  state of war?" she repeated. "But you're  at

war already, aren't you?"

Kre'fey  looked solemn. "We've been in what you  could

describe  as  an  'ordinary' state of war,"  he  said.  "The

highest  state of war-it is called ar'krai-was not  declared

even  in  the  days of Palpatine. Ar'krai has been  declared

only  twice  in  our past, and was declared  only  when  our

survival  as a species seemed to be at stake. It means  that

we  will declare total war against our enemy, and not  cease

until he has been completely destroyed."

"You've  .  . . destroyed species?" General  Farlander

asked.

"In the distant past," Kre'fey said. "We did not cease

our  ar'krai  until our enemies were destroyed to  the  last

individual,  their names written out of the  histories,  and

their planets reduced to dust floating on the stellar wind."

He   placed  his  hands  on  the  tabletop,  his  white  fur

reflecting perfectly in its dark polished surface. "So shall

we  do  with the Yuuzhan Vong," he said. "They shall  become

dust, or we shall become dust ourselves."

Jaina looked at Kre'fey's determined face, and a chill

ran  up her spine at the quiet certainty that lay behind his

words.

Nen  Yim  couldn't quite suppress  a  shudder  as  she

reached toward the Shamed One, if only to hand him a bladder-

flask.  Nor  could she suppress her alarm as he  opened  the

flask  immediately  and  began splashing  the  balm  on  his

misshapen  body.  The  tendrils on her  headdress  waved  in

agitation.

"This is for the Supreme Overlord!" she said.

"I'll save enough for Shimrra," Onimi said.

"There must be enough for, for the other shapers," Nen

Yim said. "They must be able to create tons of-"

"I  know,  master heretic shaper," Onimi  said.  "I'll

leave enough for  the shapers."

He  slathered the pale green lotion over his  grayish,

inflamed flesh and sighed. "It works," he said.

"Of  course it works!" Nen Yim snapped. Even if  Onimi

was  her only conduit to the Supreme Overlord, his impudence

was often more than she could bear.

Onimi seemed oblivious to the shaper's loathing. "Think

of  all  the hours of labor you've saved us," he said.  "All

that scratching."

The  balm  had certainly saved Nen Yim's  own  sanity.

Since she had returned from Tsavong Lah's command to work on

Yuuzhan'tar directly tinder Shimrra, she had been one of the

worst  affected  of the itching plague's  victims.  She  had

barely  been  able to focus her mind to the point  that  she

could puzzle out an antidote.

She and Onimi faced each other in a room screened  off

by  membranous partitions that pulsed with bright oxygenated

blood.  Phosphorescent lichen filled the air with a  reddish

light  that  was  useful  when dealing  with  photosensitive

tissues. The tang of the lotion contrasted with the  organic

odors  that  normally filled the air, the coppery  scent  of

blood or the loamy scent of undifferentiated protoplasm, the

tissue  on  which  Nen  Yim  performed  her  grafts,  forced

mutations, and other experiments.

Performed her heresy. The eighth cortex was  known  to

the  Yuuzhan Vong as the ultimate grade of shaper knowledge,

the most refined and perfect of the procedures given by  the

gods  in  ancient times, known only to the Supreme  Overlord

and   the  few  master  shapers  with  whom  he  shared  the

knowledge.

Only  the handful who had seen the eighth cortex  knew

that it was a fraud. It was, in fact, practically empty.  It

contained  only  a few advanced techniques,  most  of  which

Shimrra had already given to his people.

Yuuzhan  Vong knowledge had reached its  end.  And  so

Shimrra had found Nen Yim, a shaper already convicted of the

heresy  of  not  merely repeating the procedures  given  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  in  ancient times, but actually  seeking  new

knowledge. It was now the task of Nen Yim and her adepts  to

create  the eighth cortex, to provide the new knowledge  and

new procedures that would enable the Yuuzhan Vong to win the

war and exist successfully in their new homeland.

Nen  Yim had first call on any Yuuzhan Vong resources.

Her  research took first priority in any dispute, even  over

urgent  war  aims. Her team was housed in its  own  damutek,

isolated and guarded. Her only visitor was Onimi, her direct

conduit to the Supreme Overlord.

But the guards, she knew, were not simply to prevent an

enemy from interfering-they were to prevent Nen Yim and  her

own  people from escaping to contaminate other Yuuzhan  Vong

with their heretical ideas. The Yuuzhan Vong chosen for  the

eighth cortex project were insulated from the rest of  their

own race-Insulated like a plague.

Nen  Yim  more  than  half suspected  that  after  the

project's  completion, after the eighth  cortex  was  filled

with  a  thousand and one useful shaping protocols, she  and

her coworkers and Onimi would be quietly liquidated, and all

record of their existence erased.

But should that happen, Nen Yim was prepared to accept

it.  She  had  accepted death more than  once  in  her  life

already. All life, after all, was preparation for death, and

once the eighth cortex was filled she would have contributed

her  whole  life's adventure to the defeat of the  infidels,

and the greatness of her people.

Onimi finished applying the lotion and straightened to

the  full  height  of  his gangling  limbs.  "This  cure  is

limited, I understand?"

"Yes.  It will kill any infection on contact, but  you

can always be reinfected."

Onimi's  unsettling eyes, one lower  than  the  other,

focused on her. "And we will be reinfected, yes?"

"I'm afraid so. The spore is everywhere."

"Can  the  World  Brain be instructed  to  produce  an

organism  that will kill the spore? Some kind  of  virus  or

bacterium that can devour the plague?"

Nen  Yim hesitated. "I fear," she dared to say,  "that

the World Brain may be the problem."

The  room's ruddy light shone eerily on Onimi's  eyes,

now  suddenly  alert. His tilted slash of a mouth  twitched.

"How can this be, master shaper?" he asked.

"I  have examined the organism that causes the itching

plague  most carefully. Though further examination would  be

necessary to confirm this, I believe that the spore and  the

fungus  it causes are of Yuuzhan Vong origin, not native  to

Yuuzhan'tar."

A  hiss  escaped  Onimi's lips.  "Ch'Gang  Hool.  That

imbecile!  He has contaminated the World Brain!"  He  paused

for a moment's thought. "Can you instruct the World Brain to

cease production of the spore?"

"Perhaps. I'd have to put aside my other work."

"Don't, then. A new clan has been put in charge of the

world-shaping project and the World Brain-let  the  work  be

theirs." His expression grew thoughtful. "The gods can speak

to  Shimrra  on the matter, and he can then advise  the  new

shapers."

Distaste flooded Nen Yim. She might be a heretic,  but

even  she  had more respect for the gods than to  claim  her

knowledge was of divine origin.

"The Supreme Overlord wants you to concentrate on  the

yammosk  project,"  Onimi went on. "We must  develop  a  war

coordinator  that  is  free from the infidels'  attempts  to

manipulate  the gravity spectrum. To this end,  the  Supreme

Overlord   has  granted  you  absolution  in   advance   for

investigating any of  the enemy's machines and weapons."

Nen Yim feigned surprise. "If we knew how the infidels

were  producing the interference," she said, "the work would

be easier."

"It   is   known  that  the  infidels  have  gravity-

manipulation devices called 'repulsorlifts.' Not as flexible

or  as useful as our dovin basals, but perhaps operating  on

the  same  principles.  They might have  modified  these  to

interfere with the yammosks."

Nen Yim considered. "Would it be possible to bring  me

one of these repulsorlifts?"

Onimi  gave  a  mirthless smile.  "I  shall  have  one

delivered, along with a translation of its specifications."

"Please  see  they  are  protected  from  our  metal-

destroying bacteria."

"Yes. Of course." His lopsided eyes glimmered. "Shimrra

prays  daily for a solution to this problem. May I  say  the

gods will provide an answer soon?"

"The gods should first provide a repulsorlift."

Onimi gave a bow and a cross-armed salute, but his head

was  tilted  at an ironic angle. "May your efforts  prosper,

master shaper," he said.

"And yours, Onimi."

The  deformed figure made his way out of the  chamber.

Nen Yim watched him leave, her lips twitching with distaste.

"Whatever  they  may  be,  creature,"  she  repeated,

"whatever they may be."

Chapter 14

Cal  Omas announced his "Jedi plan," and his  official

candidacy,  at midmorning before an army of holojournalists,

in  the  lobby  of  the building that the Mon  Calamari  had

donated for the Senate's use. Luke stood quietly behind  Cal

amid  a  group  of friends and supporters,  not  wanting  to

attract  attention, but when Cal called  for  questions,  at

least  half  were directed to Luke, and Cal  finally  called

Luke to his side.

"Are  you  and  the Jedi supporting  Councilor  Omas's

candidacy?" he was asked.

"I  hope to be able to work with any Chief of  State,"

Luke  said,  "but I'm supporting Councilor Omas's  plan  for

restoring the Jedi Council."

The holojournalist was skeptical. "So you're saying you

could work with Fyor Rodan if he wins the election?"

"I will work with Councilor Rodan if he will work with

me."  Luke  smiled.  "My impression, though,  is  that  he'd

rather not."

Laughter trickled lightly through the crowd.

"Rodan  says the Jedi Council is your means of seizing

power," someone else called.

Cal stepped to the front. "May I answer that one?"  he

said.  "Let  me point out that if Luke Skywalker  was  after

power, he wouldn't have needed to work with politicians like

me  or  Fyor  Rodan. He wouldn't have needed to destroy  the

Death Star, or fight Emperor Palpatine hand to hand, or help

his  sister  found  the New Republic. All  Master  Skywalker

would  have needed to do would have been to join his father,

Darth  Vader, at the right hand of the Emperor, and in  that

case  his  power  would be unlimited,  and  you  and  I  and

everyone here would either be dead or enslaved."

Cal  scowled at the crowd, and there was  a  touch  of

anger  in  his  voice.  "This isn't  some  little  jumped-up

lobbyist  or  politician we're talking about, this  is  Luke

Skywalker.  There isn't a single person in the New  Republic

who  doesn't  owe  him a profound debt of gratitude.  So  if

anyone suggests that Luke Skywalker is involved in some kind

of shabby power play, I'd suggest that person not only can't

read history, but is incapable of reading human character."

There was actually applause at that, and not just from

Cal's supporters.

"I'd  like to thank you for your words on my  behalf,"

Luke said later, after the meeting had broken up.

Cal grinned. "Did you like the hint of anger? I thought

I judged that pretty well."

Luke was surprised. "You were faking that?"

"Oh no, it was real enough," Cal said. "I just let  it

show  enough to get the top spot in tonight's holonews."  He

rubbed  his  chin.  "The question is,  did  I  let  it  show

enough."

Luke  left Cal Omas pondering this and other political

questions and shuttled up to the New Republic Fleet  Command

annex,  where  Vergere  was still undergoing  interrogation.

Jacen  had been released after a few hours' debriefing,  but

the   fleet   showed  every  inclination  to  keep   Vergere

indefinitely.

Luke didn't necessarily think that was a bad thing.

"She's  given us reams of material," said Intelligence

Director  Nylykerka.  "It'll take us hundreds  of  hours  to

process  it  all.  None of it contradicts  what  we  already

know-but  then, if she were a bogus defector  controlled  by

the  enemy, it wouldn't, would it?" Nylykerka seemed amused.

"She's  also  eaten about twice her weight-I've  never  seen

such an appetite."

"If  you  had  to cat Yuuzhan Vong cooking  for  fifty

years,  you'd be hungry for our food, too." Luke  asked  the

Tammarian  if  he  could  speak  to  Vergere  himself,   and

Nylykerka was agreeable. "Any information you can get out of

her . . ." he said with a wave of his hand.

He found Vergere in her cell, squatting on a stool and

watching a holo transmission from the planet-a news  program

that featured Luke and Cal Omas. ". . . incapable of reading

human character," Cal was saying. Vergere waved the holo  to

silence as Luke entered.

"In  my time," she said, "a Jedi Master would not have

intervened so with tile Senate and an election."

"In  your  time,"  Luke said, "it wouldn't  have  been

necessary."

Vergere  accepted  this with a  graceful  bob  of  her

unlikely  head.  Luke gathered up his robe  and  sat  cross-

legged on the chair before her.

He  calmed  himself.  He was  trying  not  to  dislike

Vergere, though he had very, very good reason to.

Out with it, he thought.

"I've spoken to Jacen about his captivity," he said.

"Your apprentice bore it well," Vergere said. "You are

to be congratulated."

Anger  swirled in Luke's heart. Exhaling a  deliberate

slow breath, he banished it.

"Perhaps Jacen didn't have to bear it at all," he said.

"He  said that you led him into captivity no less than three

times."

Vergere's head bobbed. "I did," she confirmed.

"He was tortured," Luke said. "Tortured to the point of

death.  And  you led him to it. You could have escaped  with

him earlier than you did."

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked.

Vergere held herself still, as if listening intently to

a voice that Luke couldn't hear. "It was necessary that your

apprentice learn certain lessons," she said.

"Lessons in betrayal?" Luke tried to keep the anger out

of  his voice. "Torture? Helplessness? Slavery? Degradation?

Pain?"

"Those, naturally," Vergere said blandly. "But chiefly

he  had to be brought to the edge of despair, and then  over

it."  Her tilted eyes gave Luke an intense, searching  gaze.

"You taught him well, but it was necessary for him to forget

every lesson you gave him, by showing that none of the gifts

you gave him could help him."

"Necessary?" Luke's outrage finally broke through  his

reserve. "Necessary for what? Or for who?"

Vergere  tilted her head and looked at him. "Necessary

for my plans, of course," she said.

"Who  gave you-" Luke suppressed his anger. "Who  gave

you the right?"

"A  right that is given is as useless as a virtue that

is  given" Vergere said. "Rights are used, or they  have  no

value,  just as virtues must be performed. I took the  right

to lie to your apprentice, to betray him, to torment him and

enslave  him."  Her piebald feathers fluffed, then  smoothed

again:  a  shrug. "I also take upon myself the consequences.

If you, as his Master, wish to punish me, so be it."

"Was there a point to this?" Luke gazed at her. "Other

than exercising your rights, I mean?"

Vergere  nodded. "Of course, young Master," she  said.

"Jacen  Solo  had to be bereft of friends, of relatives,  of

teachers  and  knowledge and the Force and  everything  that

could  help him. He had to be reduced to nothing-or  rather,

to himself only. And then he had to act-to act purely out of

himself,  out  of  his own inner being.  In  that  state  of

complete disinterest, everything else having failed him,  he

had no choice but to be himself, to choose and to act."

Her  voice turned thoughtful. "I regret the means,  of

course, but I used what I had at hand. The same inner  state

could  have  been  reached  more  gently,  given  time   and

opportunity, but neither were at hand. I tricked the Yuuzhan

Vong into preserving his life and inflicting the Embrace  of

Pain.  I  made the Yuuzhan Vong my instrument." She  gave  a

little  dry cough, or perhaps it was a laugh. "Perhaps  that

was my greatest accomplishment."

Vergere's words resonated in Luke's mind,  and  as  he

followed their reasoning he found his anger abating, if only

by  virtue  of his abstraction. "And the point of this?"  he

asked.

The slanted eyes closed and Vergere's body relaxed, as

if  she  were  entering  meditation. "Surely  you  know  the

answer, young Master, if you know Jacen Solo at all."

"Humor me," Luke said. "Spell it out."

The avian's eyes remained closed. Her voice seemed  to

come  from far away. "Once, or so the story that Jacen  told

me  suggests, you had your own props similarly knocked away.

Deprived  of  help,  of  hope, of weapons,  blasted  by  the

Emperor's Force lightning- what did you have then?  You  had

only  your  self.  You  were  made  to  choose  between  the

Emperor's path and your own."

"I had no choice," Luke said.

"Exactly. You had no choice, and even with annihilation

staring  you  in  the  face, you chose  to  remain  true  to

yourself."  A  hint of satisfaction entered Vergere's  tone.

"Likewise,  it was necessary to reduce Jacen to himself,  in

order  that, with every other door closed to him,  he  might

embrace his destiny."

Destiny. For the second time in two days the word rose

in connection with Jacen. And deep in his bones, in complete

inner  certainty,  Luke knew that Vergere  was  right,  that

somewhere  in  the  complex weavings of fate,  Jacen  had  a

special place.

The  previous  evening,  over  dinner  in  the  small

apartment,  Luke  and  Mara  had  asked  Jacen   about   his

experience at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. At first  Jacen

had  been reluctant to speak at all, saying it was  a  large

subject; but after the first few questions he spoke  matter-

of-factly   of  his  imprisonment,  the  way   Vergere   had

repeatedly  betrayed him into the hands of the  enemy  after

somehow  taking away his connection to the Force.  Mara  and

Luke had glanced at each other in growing horror.

But Jacen had shown no resentment of Vergere; in fact,

he  had  spoken of her with profound respect and admiration.

Luke  hadn't understood this until later that evening,  when

he  and  Mara were alone, and Mara quietly reminded him  how

hostages sometimes grew strangely attached to their captors.

Sometimes   captives  even  grew  to  love  their   warders,

particularly   if   the  warder  was   skilled   enough   in

manipulating people. Vergere-old and experienced and serving

her  own  agenda-had been able to manipulate  young  Jacen's

growing psyche.

And so Luke, angry, certain he knew what had happened,

had  traveled  to Vergere's cell to confront  her  with  her

actions.  But somehow it hadn't quite come out the way  he'd

anticipated.

"And what do you know of Jacen's destiny?" Luke asked.

Vergere pondered a moment before answering. "I believe

that  Jacen  is intimately connected with the  fate  of  the

Yuuzhan Vong," she answered.

Of  all  things, Luke had not expected that.  "He  can

destroy them?" he asked.

"Destroy them. Save them. Transform them." The  tilted

eyes  opened,  gazed expressionlessly into Luke's.  "Perhaps

all three."

"Can he open them to the Force?" Luke asked.

"I don't know if that's possible."

Luke  felt  bitterness poison  his  heart.  "Then  the

Yuuzhan Vong will remain . . . outside."

Vergere's head tilted. "That bothers you?"

Luke blinked. "Yes. Of course. The Force is life.  All

life  is  the  Force. But the Yuuzhan Vong are  outside  the

Force. So are they outside life as well?"

"What do you think?"

"I  think it was easier dealing with enemies from  the

dark  side." Luke looked narrowly at Vergere. "I also  think

you're very good at interrogation. This conversation started

with me asking the questions."

"If you didn't want me to ask questions," Vergere said,

"you  should  have  explained that at  the  beginning."  Her

piebald  body  stirred  on her stool. "I've  been  answering

question after question ever since I arrived, and I'm  tired

of it. So if you insist that the only questions in this room

must come from you, then I decline to answer them."

"Very  well." Luke rose to his feet. Her  head  craned

after him on its odd little neck.

"But  I  will ask one more question before you leave,"

she said. "You may answer it or not, as you like."

"Ask," Luke said.

Her  eyes blinked slowly. "If the Force is life,"  she

said,  "and  the Yuuzhan Vong are alive, and you cannot  see

them in the Force-then is the problem with the Yuuzhan Vong,

or is it with your perceptions?"

Luke, choosing not to answer, nodded politely and left.

"Tricky,  isn't  she?" Ayddar Nylykerka  asked  a  few

moments later.

"You heard?" Luke asked.

"Of course. Everything in that room is recorded."  The

Tammarian inclined his head. "What do you suggest we do with

her?"  "Hold  her  here," Luke said, "and  keep  asking  her

questions."  Nylykerka smiled. "Just what I planned,  Master

Skywalker."

Mon Calamari, goggle eyes gleaming in the floodlights,

swam  easily past Cal Omas's window. The scent of mildew  in

the  room  was  greater than ever. Mara looked  up  as  Luke

entered.

"Vergere?" she said.

"It's complicated," Luke said. "I'll explain later." He

looked at Cal Omas, who was sharing a hasty meal with  Mara.

"What news from the Senate?"

Cal swallowed the mouthful he'd been chewing, and said,

"The  Senate  had a vote this afternoon. I got  twenty-eight

percent."

"And Rodan?"

"Thirty-five."

"And  Cola  Quis  got ten percent," Mara  added,  "and

Ta'laam Ranth eighteen. Pwoe got three votes total-though he

sent a message saying that the vote was illegal and that  he

was  still  Chief  of  State. The rest  of  the  votes  were

abstentions, or scattered among half a dozen others."

Luke  and Mara had decided that, of the two  of  them,

Mara  would be one who would work more openly with  Cal  and

his  campaign.  Luke  had  other business,  with  Jacen  and

Vergere and the Jedi, and Mara could move more openly  among

the politicians and lobbyists than he could.

Luke  joined the others at the table, and Cal  amiably

pushed  a  bowl  of  giju  stew in his  direction.  "Where's

Triebakk?" Luke asked.

"Talking to Cola Quis," Cal said. "By now it  must  be

clear to Cola that he can't win, so we need to find out what

it  would  take for him to drop out of the race and  endorse

me."

"I'm  sure  Rodan's asking him the same  thing,"  Mara

said.

"And then we ask the same thing of Ta'laam Ranth," Cal

continued,  "though  I don't suppose  Ta'laam  is  ready  to

answer yet, He'll want a few more floor votes first, just to

show what a valuable ally he could be."

"What's he likely to want?"

"A place on the Advisory Council, certainly," Cal said.

"Plus   he'll  want  places  in  the  government   for   his

friends-he's  always  been  very serious  about  controlling

patronage."

Luke finished his bite of stew and spoke. "In order to

control patronage, there has to be a government for  him  to

control patronage in. If the government falls apart  in  the

meantime ..."

Cal shrugged. "Ta'laam wants what he wants. If we start

giving  him speeches about patriotism and duty, he'll  think

we're trying to put something over on him. He's the sort who

thinks that patronage is the whole point of government."

"In  that case," Luke said, sighing, "you may as  well

point  out  that  if the war goes on, his people  will  gain

access to a lot of military contracts."

Cal grinned. "We'll make a politician of you yet."

"I hope not," Luke said.

Cal  reached  across the table for  a  datapad.  "It's

Fyor's  supporters  that worry me." He tapped  the  display.

"I've been looking at the people who voted for him, and if I

were to make a mental list of the members of the Senate  who

would  want  a  truce  with  the Yuuzhan  Vong,  or  even  a

surrender,  I'd  find quite a number of  them  among  Fyor's

supporters."

"Senator Sneakaway," Luke said, with a significant look

at Mara. "Senator Scramblefree."

Cal  frowned at the datapad. "I count at least a dozen

Senators  who  either  ran away from  Coruscant  during  the

fighting  or  found  reason  to  flee  before  the  fighting

started. And some of them are influential."

"Rodan told me that he didn't trust the Yuuzhan Vong to

keep a truce," Luke said.

"He repeated it publicly, this afternoon," Mara said.

"But can he hold out against his own supporters?"  Cal

said.  "When the people he depends on for his position  tell

him  they  want  peace with the Yuuzhan  Vong,  how  can  he

resist?"

"I  don't  understand," Mara said.  "Rodan  was  brave

during  the  fight, maybe even heroic. How can he  associate

with these people?"

"Some  people don't question the folks who  give  them

what they want," Cal said, and then his long face creased in

a  sly smile. "I haven't exactly made my own supporters fill

out a questionnaire, either."

Luke finished his stew. "We need a government soon," he

said.  "And  one  the  military  can  respect.  Because  the

military  won't hold still for a surrender or a  truce.  And

then  we'll have a military government that won't  hold  any

legitimacy other than what they acquire at blasterpoint."

Cal  looked serious. "Mara told me what you  saw  this

afternoon.   I   agree   we  need  a  government   soon.   A

parliamentary  system  like ours is inefficient  in  certain

ways, but it's what we're stuck with."

"The  question  is,"  Mara said,  "does  the  military

understand that?"

It was a question to which none of them had the answer.

Luke  and  Mara  found Jacen in the  suite  when  they

returned.  Jacen sat on the floor in a meditation pose,  and

Luke could feel the Force surrounding him, swirling in great

eddies   through   the   boy's  body,  cleansing,   healing,

strengthening, and restoring. Jacen's eyes opened as soon as

Luke and Mara stepped into the apartment, and he smiled.

"The  Intelligence people are done with  me,  for  the

present,"  Jacen  said. "I think they'll  be  a  while  with

Vergere, though."

"I spoke with her myself," Luke said.

Jacen's smile broadened. "What did you think?"

"I think she's not simple."

Mara  had scowled at Jacen's pleased reaction  to  the

mention of Vergere, but she put the frown away and sat  next

to Jacen. "I have to wonder about her loyalties," she said.

"They're not simple, either," Jacen said. "She's  very

harsh sometimes."

Mara's  mouth twisted, and Luke knew why, because  his

own  insides  were queasing at the thought  of  torture.  He

swallowed  back a bitter surge of stomach acid  and  dropped

cross-legged to the floor in front of Jacen.

Jacen looked at him. "I'm still your apprentice, Master

Sky-walker," he said. "Do you have any assignments for me?"

Harsh, Luke thought. Whatever he was going to  be,  he

wasn't  going  to be Vergere. He smiled. "A  very  difficult

assignment, Jacen," he said. "You're to take a vacation."

Jacen was surprised. "What kind of vacation?" he asked.

Luke almost laughed. "Whatever kind you like," he said.

"You've been through a lot, and I want you to take the  time

to  think about it. Many of your friends are here-I want you

to  reconnect with them. Meditate, as you were doing. Try to

discern  what  it  is  that  the Force  wants  for  you,  if

anything, and whether it's what you want for yourself."

Jacen tilted his head in curiosity. "You'd give me that

option?"

"You  of  all  people," Luke said, "should  know  that

you've  always  had  that option." He  looked  into  Jacen's

solemn eyes. "I want you to get beyond what I want for  you,

beyond  what  Vergere wants, beyond any of us.  I  want  you

alone  with  Force. A dialogue, with just the  two  of  you,

alone."

"Harsh,"  Mara said. Luke could feel her muscles tense.

"Days and days of torture. Harsh"

They were alone in bed, lying nested like spoons, Mara

in  the curve of Luke's body. Jacen was presumably asleep in

the next room, and they conversed in low tones so as not  to

be overheard.

"She  claims she had good reasons for what  she  did,"

Luke said. "And they sounded plausible, if-well-harsh"

Mara  looked thoughtful. "She helped heal me with  her

tears."

"Perhaps a gesture of compassion, perhaps a coldhearted

calculation to pave her way to a defection-or should I say a

re-re-defection, to our side."

"She tortured Jacen, but she brought him back."

"And  she  collaborated in the deaths of  hundreds  of

billions  of citizens of the New Republic," Luke said.  "The

reasons she gives are, perhaps, adequate. Or perhaps she  is

simply  a being with absolutely no conscience and an  agenda

of her own."

Mara's  eyes turned hard. "We've got to get Jacen  out

from under her influence."

"That's  why  I  told Jacen to take time  off  and  to

reconnect  with his friends," Luke said. "I can't order  him

not  to feel a connection to Vergere, but I can tell him  to

connect to all the parts of his life that aren't Vergere."

Mara nodded. "Good idea."

"Whatever may have happened to Jacen while he was gone,

he's  more  mature  than  he was. More  balanced.  And  more

centered than ever in the force."

Mara  bit  her  lip.  "I agree.  Not  everything  that

happened to him was negative."

"After Jacen's gotten his bearings back, I'll send him

on  a  mission. After he's had a chance to think and  regain

his balance, he'll need to reconnect with his job."

"Yes."  She  hesitated. "That may be  hard,  but  it's

necessary."  "I  spoke  this morning  of  Jacen's  having  a

special destiny," Luke said. "Vergere thinks he has  one  as

well."

Mara  looked  at him over her shoulder.  "Maybe  you'd

better tell me what she said."

Chapter 15

Because he needed to know, he returned.

He  needed  to know whether or not he was doomed,  and

along with him the revived Jedi Order he had created.

Vergere peered up at Luke from her perch on the stool.

"Come  to ask more questions?" she inquired. "I should  warn

you I've already spent my day answering questions from Fleet

Intelligence, and I'm tired of it."

"I'll trade you," Luke said. "One of my questions  for

one of yours."

Her  whiskers rippled. "You didn't answer my last.  If

you can't detect the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force, is the fault

with the Yuuzhan Vong or with your perceptions?"

Luke settled onto the chair opposite Vergere. "You left

out a third possibility. The fault may be in the Force."

Vergere's  feathery crest rose in surprise.  "Is  this

your answer?"

"No. I don't have an answer," Luke admitted. He looked

at Vergere. "Do you?"

Vergere smoothed her crest with one hand. "Is that your

first question?"

"It is."

Vergere  paused  for  a long moment,  as  if  mentally

rehearsing an answer. "Before I can answer, I need  to  know

whether Jacen told you what happened to me on Zonama Sekot."

"He did," Luke said.

"So you know that I chose to accompany the Yuuzhan Vong

in order to discover their true nature."

"You  spent  fifty years with them. And so  if  anyone

should have an answer to the question of whether the Yuuzhan

Vong are outside the Force, it should be you."

"Yes."  There was a long pause while Luke  waited  for

Vergere to continue. Then she said, "That was your answer."

Luke  smiled.  "The  answer to my  first  question  is

'yes!'"

"Correct."

"And  I'll  have  to ask another question  if  I  want

further information."

"Also correct."

"Isn't this a little bit childish?"

Her  feathers fluffed, then smoothed. "It's your game,

not mine. And I believe it's my turn."

He shrugged. "Go ahead."

She  fixed  him with her tilted eyes. "If the  Yuuzhan

Vong  arc completely outside the Force, what does that imply

for the Jedi and our beliefs?"

Luke hesitated. This wasn't just a question, this  was

the  Question of Questions, the issue he had been  wrestling

since the invasion began. When he spoke, he spoke carefully.

"It  implies  that our knowledge of the  Force  is  in

error, or incomplete. Or it implies that the Vong are ... an

aberration. A profanation of the Force. A thing that  should

not be." He hesitated again, but the implacable logic of his

train of thought forced him to continue. "To life we owe our

compassion and our duty. But I must wonder what  we  owe  to

something  completely  outside our definition  of  life,  to

something  that is a kind of living death. I must wonder  if

we owe them anything but a real death?"

"You shrink from this thought." It was a statement, not

a question.

"Any  being of conscience must," Luke said.  He  could

feel  tension in his clenched jaw muscles. "But still it  is

my  duty  to  the  Jedi not to fear where  this  leads."  He

centered himself, and tried to send the tension into the far

distance. "My turn," he said.

Vergere nodded. "Proceed."

He  took  a  breath,  and forced himself  to  ask  the

question that he suspected would doom him. ""Are the Yuuzhan

Vong outside the Force?"

"I have only what amounts to an opinion."

"But it's the opinion of a Jedi Knight, experienced in

the  Force,  who  has spent fifty years  among  the  Yuuzhan

Vong."

"Yes. And my opinion is this: by definition the  Force

is  all  life,  and all life is the Force. So therefore  the

Yuuzhan  Vong, who are living beings, are within the  Force,

even though we can't see them there."

Luke felt months-long tension draining from his limbs,

and a heavy stone fly weightless from his heart.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She looked at him and spoke with quiet intensity. "You

owe  to the Yuuzhan Vong the same measure of compassion  you

owe  to all life. No war of extermination is justified.  You

will  not have to eradicate this profanation from the  heart

of existence."

Luke bowed his head. "Thank you," he repeated.

"Why were you afraid of my answer?"

"Because if the enemy were not life, if they  did  not

deserve  compassion, then leading a war against  them  would

have  furnished a means of letting the dark side  enter  not

only myself, but all the Jedi I have trained as well."

"My understanding of your position, then, is that such

traits    as anger and aggression are to be avoided, because

they  may lead to domination of the mind and spirit  by  the

dark side of the Force."

Luke  looked at her. "Was that your second  question?"

"Young Master," Vergere said, "it was phrased very carefully

so  as  not  to  be  a question. I was merely  attempting  a

clarification of your position."

Luke smiled. "Yes, your understanding is correct."

"Then  my  next question is this: do you believe  that

nature  would  have  given  us  traits  such  as  anger  and

aggression if they were not useful?"

"Useful for what?" Luke countered. "They are useful to

the  dark  side.  What use does a Jedi have  for  anger  and

aggression?  The  Jedi Code is specific:  we  act  not  from

passion, but from serenity."

Vergere settled onto her stool. "I understand now," she

said.   "Our   difference  concerns  where   this   serenity

originates.  You believe serenity is an absence of  passion,

but  I  believe it is a consequence of knowledge, and  self-

knowledge most of all."

"If  passion is not opposed to serenity,"  Luke  said,

"why are they paired in the Jedi Code?"

"Because the consequences of these two states of  mind

are  opposed  to one another. An unchecked passion  produces

actions   that   are  hasty,  ill  considered,   and   often

destructive. Serenity, on the other hand, may well result in

no action at all-and when it does, serenity produces actions

that  proceed from knowledge and deliberation, if  not  from

wisdom." Her wide mouth suggested a smile. "My turn."

"I haven't asked my question yet."

"I beg your pardon, but you asked a question about the

Jedi Code. I answered."

Luke sighed. "Very well. Though it seems to me that I'm

conceding a great deal."

"On  the  contrary. You are acting from  serene  self-

knowledge."

Luke laughed. "If you insist."

"I  do."  Vergere  stroked her delicate  whiskers  and

considered her next question. "It was my observation that on

your last visit, you were angry with me. You believed that I

had    deliberately   harmed   your   apprentice-which   was

accurate-though  your anger was moderated  somewhat  when  I

explained my motivations."

"That's true," Luke admitted.

"Now  my question is, was that anger dark? Was  it  an

evil  passion  that possessed you, such that the  dark  side

might have taken you as a consequence?"

Luke chose his thoughts carefully. "It could have been.

If  I had used that anger to strike out at you, or harm you,

particularly through the Force, then it would  have  been  a

dark passion."

"Young Master, it is my contention that the anger  you

experienced  was  natural and useful.  I  caused  deliberate

harm-pain  and  anguish  and suffering,  over  a  period  of

weeks-to   a   young   man  for  whom   you   had   accepted

responsibility  and  for whom you felt a  measure  of  love.

Naturally you felt anger. Naturally you wanted to  break  my

thin  little  neck.  It  is  absolutely  natural,  when  you

discover  that a person has inflicted deliberate pain  on  a

helpless  victim,  to feel angry with  that  person.  It  is

equally as natural an emotion as to feel compassion for  the

victim."

Vergere fell silent, and Luke let the silence build.

After  a moment, Vergere bobbed her head. "Very  well,

young Master. You are correct when you said that if you  had

entered  my  cell and struck out at me with the Force,  that

such an action would have been dark. But you didn't. Instead

your  anger  prompted you to speak to me and  find  out  the

reasons  for my actions. To that extent, your anger was  not

only natural but useful. It led to understanding on both our

parts."

She  paused. "I'm about to ask a rhetorical  question.

You need not answer."

"Thank you for the warning."

"My rhetorical question is: why wasn't your anger dark?

And  my answer is: because you understood it. You understood

the  cause  of the emotion, and therefore it did  not  seize

power over you."

Luke  thought  for a moment. "It is  your  contention,

then," he said, "that to understand an emotion is to prevent

its being dark."

"Unreasoning  passion  is the province  of  darkness,"

Vergere said. "But an understood emotion is not unreasoning.

That is why the route to mastery is through self-knowledge."

Her  tilted eyes widened. "It's not possible to suppress all

emotion,  nor is it desirable. An emotionless person  is  no

more than a machine. But to understand the origin and nature

of one's feelings, that is possible."

"When  Darth Vader and the Emperor held me  prisoner,"

Luke said, "they kept urging me to surrender to my anger."

"Your  anger was a natural response to your captivity,

and  they wished to make use of it. They wished to fan  your

anger  into a burning rage that would allow the darkness  to

enter.  But  any  unreasoning passion would do.  When  anger

becomes  rage, fear becomes terror, love becomes  obsession,

self-esteem  becomes vainglory, then a  natural  and  useful

emotion  becomes an unreasoning compulsion and the  darkness

is."

"I let the dark side take me," Luke said. "I cut off my

father's hand."

"Ahhh." Vergere nodded. "Now I understand much." "When

my rage took control, I felt invincible. I felt complete.  I

felt free."

Vergere nodded again. "When you are in the grip of  an

irresistible compulsion, it is then that you feel most  like

yourself.  But in reality it was you who were passive  then.

You let the feeling control you."

"My turn for a question," Luke said, and at that point

a comm unit chimed.

"Master  Skywalker." Nylykerka's voice. "A  fleet  has

just  arrived  out of hyperspace, and they wish  to  contact

you."

Vergere blinked at him. "Next time," she said.

Luke rose. "Next time," he said.

Outside, Nylykerka met him with a bow. "Sixteen  ships

just arrived, mostly freighters or modified freighters,  but

including  a  Star  Destroyer,  Errant  Venture.  There  are

messages  to  you from Captain Karrde, and also  from  Lando

Calrissian, who commands one of the ships."

"Thank you."

Nylykerka  walked with him to the nearest  comm  unit.

"I'm  running  out of questions to ask her,"  the  Tammarian

said. "And I'm running out of reasons to hold her."

"Keep her until I can talk to her one more time," Luke

said. "I'm still not convinced that she's benign."

The Tammarian's air sac pulsed meditatively. "Then why

would she rescue Jacen?"

"To gain access to the Jedi, perhaps so she can destroy

us."

Air whistled from Nylykerka's sac. "No wonder you want

her held."

The problem, Luke thought, was that if Vergere was  as

powerful as he thought, she wouldn't be in Nylykerka's  cell

any longer than she wanted to be there.

Luke  stepped  aboard Wild Karrde to a salute  from  a

double row of skull-headed, glowing-eyed droids with massive

physiques and sloping foreheads. The ship smelled of machine

oil.  Luke returned the salute and marched down the line  to

be  embraced by Lando Calrissian and to have his hand pumped

by Talon Karrde.

"I  see  your  droid factory is thriving,"  Luke  told

Lando.

"Everything you see," Lando said with a grin, "is  for

sale to the government for a very reasonable price."

Luke  frowned  at his friend's flippant remark.  "That

strongly depends on whether we get a government," he said.

Karrde  looked  serious and tugged his  small  goatee.

"You'd better tell us about that," he said.

Karrde took Luke to his cabin, and Luke told Lando and

Karrde of the latest developments in the Senate. "There have

always  been  rumors  about Fyor Rodan,"  he  said  finally.

"Rumors that he's connected with smuggling operations on the

Rim.  If either of you know any of the details, perhaps  you

can help us . . ."

"Discredit  Rodan by associating him with  us"  Karrde

said, and laughed.

"No offense," Luke said.

"None taken," Karrde said. "But I'm afraid I can't help

you.  It's not Fyor Rodan who's the smuggler, it's his older

brother Tormak."

"Tormak Rodan used to fly out of Nar Shaddaa for Jabba

the  Hutt," Lando said. "After Jabba had his, ah,  accident,

Tormak went independent and set up on the Rim."

"He  and  his brother hate each other," Karrde  added.

"Tormak  was  into anything shady, and little  brother  Fyor

grew  up  as strait-laced as they come, probably in reaction

to  how  big brother Tormak behaved. If Fyor's sensitive  on

the  subject  of smuggling, I guess that's why.  Still,"  he

added,  stroking his goatee. "I think Lando and I  can  help

your candidate along."

Alarm tingled along Luke's nerves. "How?" he asked.

Karrde  gave  a private little smile. "It's  best  you

don't know."

"I don't want Cal Omas discredited," Luke said quickly.

"If  you  get caught in something shady, no one will believe

that Cal wasn't behind it."

Lando put a reassuring hand on Luke's arm. "Not getting

caught at something shady is our specialty."

"There's always a first time."

"Luke,"  Lando  said, "we're just  businessmen.  We're

trying  to  get  government contracts. We have  a  perfectly

legitimate reason for talking to anyone who could help us."

"And we have sixteen ships full of supplies that we're

donating  to  the refugees on Mon Calamari,"  Karrde  added.

"All courtesy of the Smugglers' Alliance. So we're going  to

be very, very popular for a while, and politicians will want

to be seen with us."

"I'm not sure I like what I'm hearing," Luke said.

"Then we'll change the subject," Karrde said smoothly.

He  opened a locker and took out a metal container, which he

thumped down onto the table and opened. "Like it?"

Luke  saw  a  boxy, wheeled droid, and gave  a  little

shiver of distaste. "It looks like a mouse droid," he  said.

Millions  of mouse droids were in existence, chittering  and

squeaking and running their obscure errands beneath the feet

of  annoyed citizens. Why anyone had chosen to model a droid

on disease-carrying vermin was beyond him.

"It's a mouse droid chassis," Lando said. "We get them

cheap-people practically pay us to take them away. But  this

mouse  droid  now contains the sensor unit  of  one  of  our

Yuuzhan Vong Hunter droids."

"Ah," Luke said, understanding.

"The  Yuuzhan Vong Hunter units are better at  sensing

Yuuzhan Vong than they are at sensing humans," Karrde  said.

"But they are aggressive, and, well-"

"Murderous," Lando said.

Karrde  gave him a sharp look. " Conspicuous  was  the

word I was looking for." He tapped the mouse droid. "One  of

our YVH-M units can sniff out Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators and,

unlike  one  of our Hunters, won't be tempted to immediately

blow  him  to smithereens. Instead, it can be programmed  to

follow the infiltrator, record his movements, and take  note

of anyone that the infiltrator talks to."

"Who  ever  notices a mouse droid?" Lando said.  "Most

people do their best to avoid noticing diem."

"Our  next  model  will feature a small  repulsorlift.

Flying Yuuzhan Vong Hunters-just think about it!"

Luke had been making some quiet calculations while the

others were involved with their sales pitch. "I don't  think

you should talk about your YVH-M models to just anybody," he

said.  "We  want these to be a surprise, especially  to  the

Yuuzhan Vong."

Lando smiled and nodded. "Can you suggest who we should

talk to?"

"Dif Scaur and Ayddar Nylykerka, for two."

"The  head  of  New  Republic  Intelligence,  and  his

military equivalent. That's very good."

Luke reached out and gave the smooth plastic surface of

the  mouse  droid a pat. "I have a feeling," he said,  "this

little critter is going to be very, very useful."

Trickster was parked in orbit around Kashyyyk,  and  a

group of Wookiee technicians descended on it, supervised  by

Lowbacca.  Quarters for the Twin Suns Squadron  and  docking

bay  space  for  their X-wings had been  found  on  the  old

Rendili Dreadnaught Starsider, which had been converted to a

tender and supply depot for other ships. Jaina found her new

cabin  and  threw  herself down on  a  mattress  that  still

smelled of the previous occupant's unwashed body.

The  first  tiling she checked were  the  holomessages

that  had piled up waiting for her while she'd been  on  the

Obroa-skai mission.

Yes.  There was a holomessage from Jacen. Her  ringers

trembled  as  she pressed the buttons that  would  play  the

recording.

"Hi,"  Jacen  said. "I'm back from the dead."  And  he

looked  it-he was ten or twelve kilos underweight,  and  the

long  hair and scraggly beard gave him the appearance  of  a

hermit  just  rescued from a long period of fasting  in  the

desert.

He  briefly explained that he'd been held prisoner  by

the  Yuuzhan  Vong, and rescued by a Jedi named  Vergere,  a

Jedi of the Old Republic.

"I'm sorry I didn't try to contact you through our twin

bond," he said. "You were in my thoughts the whole time. But

I  knew  that the Yuuzhan Vong wanted you to try  to  rescue

me-they were ready for it. They wanted to sacrifice us  both

in  a  special  ceremony. So my greatest chance  of  staying

alive was to keep you as far away from me as possible.

"They  tell me you've played a big part in a victory."

His  brown  eyes gazed mildly out of the holo. "I hope  that

means  you've been all right while I've been away.  It  must

have  been bad enough knowing that An akin was dead  without

thinking  that  I was gone as well." He hesitated.  "I  know

you're too sensible to get into anything really hurtful, but

I  hope you're well, and I hope we'll be able to talk  soon.

Tell Logic and everyone hi. Take care. I love you."

The  holographic  image fizzled out.  Jama's  thoughts

whirled.  It  seemed  she was forgiven  for  not  trying  to

contact Jacen through the twin bond they shared, but on  the

other  hand  Jacen seemed to have sensed, or  perhaps  heard

about,  her  mad,  angry  brush  with  the  dark  side,  her

surrender to the fury that was her legacy through the  blood

of Vader.

What  could  she  tell Jacen? It had been  bad  enough

confessing her actions to her mother.

The  next message was from Jagged Fel, reporting  that

he'd  encountered her mother and father on the  Hydian  Way,

and  that  Leia had told him Jacen had escaped  the  Yuuzhan

Vong.

Did everyone know before I did? she thought.

"I've missed you," Jag said. "I wish I was with you. I

wish  I could see your reaction when you find out that Jacen

is alive. I want to kiss you in celebration."

Even  though  she  wanted to bask in  misery  at  this

moment, Jag's words brightened her spirit. The memory of his

arms  around her, and the phantom taste of his lips on hers,

whispered like a warm summer wind through her memory.

She  really couldn't, she thought. Being in love at  a

time  like this was madness. Not when death reached  out  to

her  at every moment, when another person to love meant only

another person to mourn when the time came.

But  Jacen had come back . . . perhaps that meant that

things had changed.

Her  mind whirled. But one thing was clear: soon death

would come for her.

The fewer people to mourn then, the better.

Jaina  found  Kyp Durron in the pilots' mess,  chewing

without  enthusiasm on a reconstituted, freeze-dried  iagoin

steak that may have been in a storage locker since the  days

of  Empress Teta. "Great One," he said, looking up,  "please

exercise  your  godly  powers and summon  real  food.  We're

orbiting six hundred kilometers above the greenest planet in

the  New Republic, and the mess can't seem to find any fresh

vegetables."  He  paused, then looked at  her  in  surprise.

"What's wrong, Sticks?"

"Jacen's alive," she said. "He's on Mon Calamari  with

Uncle Luke and Mara."

Kyp's  expression cleared. "Wonderful!" he said.  "Get

yourself a plate of rehydrated salthia bean paste, and we'll

have a feast and celebrate!"

Jaina sat heavily on the seat opposite him. "What do I

tell him I've been up to since he was captured?" she asked.

Comprehension  dawned. "I sec," Kyp said.  "Well."  He

looked  down  at his plate and pushed the iagoin  away  with

distaste, then looked at Jaina again. "You may as well  tell

him the truth."

"There's more to it than that," Jaina said. "During his

capture he made no attempt to contact me through the  Force,

for fear that I'd try to rescue him and run into a trap.  So

what do I tell him- that because he didn't contact me I  ran

amok? What's that going to do to him?"

Kyp  listened carefully and nodded. "I understand your

concern,"  he  said, "but I think Jacen  can  take  care  of

himself. He always has. And besides, Anakin's death  had  as

much  to  do with your going to the dark as Jacen's  capture

did."

"Maybe so. But it's hard to know how he's going to take

things.  What  if  it  sends him into another  spiral  of-of

whatever it was that paralyzed him in the first place?"

"You  saw  the  hologram,"  Kyp  said.  "Did  he  look

paralyzed?"

Jaina found herself smiling. "No. He looked like  he'd

been  through a lot., but-he looked all right.  And  he  was

right enough to be concerned about me."

Kyp nodded at her solemnly. "Then I think-when you sec

him-you'll know what to say."

Jaina looked at her hands. "I hope so."

Kyp  grinned. "Is there anything else that's going  to

keep you from celebrating?"

Jaina  smiled, but sobered quickly. "Admiral Kre'fey,"

she  said.  "He  and the Bothans have gone  mad-they've  all

decided  they're going to wipe out the Yuuzhan Vong  to  the

last  germ  cell. So now we have a commander who's  bent  on

destroying a whole species." She looked at him. "Is that  an

invitation to the dark side, or what?"

Kyp  was  impressed. "Even / never went that far,"  he

said. He leaned across the table toward Jaina- "I think that

the  dark  side  can only take command when  you're  feeling

certain  emotions," he said. "In my case it  was  anger.  In

yours it was the desire for vengeance."

"On behalf of a brother who turned out not to be dead,"

Jaina added bitterly.

"As well as the one who was. Yes. That was wrong,  and

we're  agreed  on that. But I think we should  try  to  make

several distinctions here."

"All  right," Jaina said, though she felt cautious  at

the idea of too many shadings and distinctions between light

and dark.

"There's aggression for its own sake. Which is bad."

"Yes."

"There's  defensive war, fighting against invaders  on

behalf of your own worlds or people or government. Which, if

not necessarily good, is at least justified."

Jaina nodded. "I'm following you."

"And  then  there's a counterattack  in  an  otherwise

defensive war. Which was Obroa-skai."

"And it's what?" Jaina asked. "Good? Bad? Justified?"

"Justified," Kyp said. "I've been thinking hard  about

this,  and  I think justified." Then he saw Jaina's  dubious

look, and said, "Let me give you an analogy."

"All right."

"Say you have a friend who has something valuable, like

a ring. And a thief attacks your friend and steals the ring,

and for some reason you can't prevent it."

"I'm following you."

"And  later, you meet the thief, and you see the thief

wearing the ring. So is it aggression to bring the thief  to

justice, and return the ring to its rightful owner?"

"So you're saying," Jaina said, "that the thief is like

the  Yuuzhan  Vong, who have been stealing our  worlds,  and

that  it's  not aggression to want our worlds back  and  the

Yuuzhan Vong out of our hair?"

"I'm  not  saying  that  there  isn't  a  degree   of

aggression. But I'm saying it's justified."

"But if your aggression lets in the dark?"

"Then it's not justified," Kyp said. He sighed. "Look.

You  can go after the thief because you're angry at him  and

you  want  to give him a good pounding, or you can go  after

the  thief  because you want to see justice done. There's  a

difference.  Anger  is  dark, but the  love  of  justice  is

light."

"And perfect justice is impossible," Jaina countered.

"Perfect  justice isn't the issue. You're setting  too

high  a standard. We haven't sworn oaths to be perfect."  He

considered  for  a moment. "Look, it's like  when  Luke  was

fighting Darth Vader, and the Emperor stood by urging him to

strike  out of anger. Fighting Darth Vader wasn't the  wrong

thing to do! But fighting him out of anger was."

Jaina looked at him for a long while. "No offense, Kyp,

but  I  wish it was Uncle Luke who was making this argument,

not  the  greatest  living expert on the dark  side  of  the

Force."

Kyp looked at her soberly. "So do I, Jaina. So do I."

When Winter opened the door, there was a slight hiss of

changing  pressure.  She  saw Luke,  Mara,  and  Jacen,  and

stepped away from the door to let them inside.

"Please. Come in."

Admiral Ackbar's apartment was deep below sea level in

Heurkea Floating City, and was filled with the scent of  the

ocean.  The rooms were rounded and dimly lit, and echoed  to

the  music of falling water. There were deep seawater  pools

in every room, connected by submerged tunnels or by channels

spanned  by  small  arched bridges. The walls  and  ceilings

shimmered with golden light reflected by the waves, and  the

floors were tiled in colors that reflected the moods of  the

sea, green, blue, turquoise, and aquamarine.

The door hissed shut behind them.

Winter  wore a long white gown and a necklace of  sea-

green  jade. She greeted Luke and Mara with an embrace,  and

kissed Jacen on each cheek.

"How is the admiral?" Luke asked. He pitched his voice

low  in  the  hope  that these artificial  caverns  wouldn't

amplify his voice and carry it through the house.

"His body is failing him," Winter said. Her calm voice

was  matter-of-fact, but Luke could see the lines of sadness

radiating from the corners of her eyes.

"Can anything be done?" Mara asked.

"As he told you the other day, there's no single tiling

wrong,"  Winter said. "The real problem is age, and the  way

he  drove himself during the Rebellion. He wasn't young even

then, you know."

"I suppose not," Luke said. "It never occurred to me to

wonder how old he was. He seemed as young as-as he needed to

be, I guess."

"You'll  find  his mind is as supple as ever,"  Winter

said.  "He can still work for ten hours at a stretch  if  he

takes care of his body."

"Work?" Mara asked. "At what?"

"I'll let Ackbar tell you that." Luke, Mara, and Jacen

followed  the  tall, white-haired woman over a small  bridge

and   across  stepping-stones-actually  the  tops  of   tall

pillars-set  in  a  quiet pool. They came to  a  comfortable

drawing  room  with  a  central pool  set  amid  comfortable

furniture.  There Ackbar waited, bobbing  in  the  pool.  He

waved one huge hand.

"Luke!" he called. "Mara! Young Jacen! Welcome  to  my

home!"  His  voice showed no sign of the slurred diction  it

had  shown  in  Admiral  Sow's office,  and  boomed  out  as

vigorously  as if he were shouting orders on the  bridge  of

his flagship.

"Thank you, sir," Luke said.

"Please  seat yourselves. Forgive me for  not  joining

you-I'm  much  more  comfortable these days  if  I  stay  in

water."

"Your home is lovely," Mara said.

"It suits me," Ackbar said simply.

Winter efficiently served refreshments while Ackbar and

his  guests  chatted. Then Ackbar floated toward Jacen,  and

looked up at him with his goggle eyes.

"Can you tell me of  the Yuuzhan Vong, young Jacen?"

"I'm willing," Jacen said. "But it's a large topic."

"You're the only person I know who has any exposure to

them. Tell me what you can."

Jacen  spoke for a long time, of the Yuuzhan Vong  and

their castes, their leadership, their religion, the way they

interacted with each other and their captives. He touched on

his  own  experience only lightly. Luke  was  surprised  and

impressed that Jacen, in pain and in slavery and alone,  had

observed  his captors so acutely, and was able  to  organize

his material so well.

Winter listened in silence, and after a while  sat  on

the  edge  of the pool, pulled up her gown, and dangled  her

legs  in  the  water. Ackbar floated next to  her,  and  she

rested   an  affectionate  hand  on  his  sloping   glabrous

shoulder.

Luke  watched  them and thought of the many  tragedies

contained in Winter's mind. The white-haired woman possessed

a  holographic  memory  that recorded  her  entire  life  in

perfect detail but would not permit her to forget. The grief

she  must have felt at the destruction of her home world  of

Alderaan, with her family and friends, was as fresh  in  her

mind  now as it had been twenty-seven years ago. The battles

of   the  Rebellion, the struggles against Furgan and Joruus

C'baoth,  the kidnapping of the infant Anakin  Solo  .  .  .

Winter  could relive all these with the same intensity  with

which she'd first experienced them. Likewise, the years  she

had  spent with Jacen when he was a child were as  vivid  as

her experience of the adult Jacen himself, sitting near her.

Winter's  mind  was  a  hologram,  Luke  realized:  it

contained  a  complete template of her life.  Birth,  death,

joy, tragedy, violence, triumph, despair. Seen that way,  it

wasn't   surprising  that  she'd  joined   Ackbar   in   his

retirement:  perhaps  her mind contained  more  than  enough

severe  experience by now, and she needed tranquil  memories

to  place  alongside  those  that  were  not  in  the  least

tranquil.

But  now,  as  Ackbar declined, Winter  was  going  to

acquire even more long, sad memories that she would never be

able to forget.

Ackbar  listened to Jacen's story,  and  then  he  and

Winter  asked a series of questions. Finally Ackbar  sighed,

and settled peacefully in the water.

"Very  good," he said. "I know how to beat them  now."

Luke  looked  at  the admiral in surprise. "So  that's  what

you've been working on."

"Oh yes." Ackbar looked up at Winter and gave her knee

a   pat.  "With  Winter  as  my  memory  and  my  invaluable

assistant,  I've been working very hard on a strategic  plan

for  the  war, and now Jacen has confirmed my ideas  of  the

Yuuzhan Vong character. I think victory is now conceivable."

"Are  you  planning to come out of  retirement?"  Luke

asked.  Ackbar gave a burbling sigh. "I don't know if that's

possible, Admiral Sow is willing to take my counsel on  this

matter-but will anyone listen to poor Admiral Sow?"

"They'll  listen to you" Luke said. "I  can't  imagine

anyone not listening."

"Borsk  Fey'lya  wouldn't listen," Ackbar  said.  "And

Borsk Fey'lya had many friends." He shook his huge head.  "I

truly  miss Mon Mothma. We understood one another-our skills

were  so  entirely complementary. She and I were  a  perfect

team,  she the great orator and politician, and I her sword.

She was able to sec the traps that I was blind to, and I saw

the  dangers  that  she could not see. Her  wisdom  saw  the

Rebellion  to  its conclusion and created the New  Republic.

And  with my fleets I helped bring about the defeat  of  the

Empire." Again he shook his head. "She spoiled me!" he said.

"She understood my methods, and I understood hers. Since her

passing,  I've  had  to deal with others  who  were  not  so

understanding,  and I lacked the skill for  it-I  had  never

needed  it  before." He sighed, and for the  first  time  he

slurred  his  words, as he had the other day.  "Mon  Mothma.

Perhaps I shouldn't have outlived her."

Whiter looked at Ackbar in concern. "Never say that."

"No,"  Luke  said. "You still have much to contribute.

Your plan will prove that."

Ackbar  sighed again. "But who will see this plan?  It

requires  not only the cooperation of the military,  but  of

the highest levels of government. And our government has  no

highest levels."

Ackbar  was  obviously tired, and the visitors  didn't

stay long after that. As Winter saw them out, she paused and

put  a  hand  on Jacen's shoulder. "I was so sorry  to  hear

about Anakin," she said.

Jacen nodded slowly. "He was always grateful to  you,"

he  said. "He knew how you fought for him on Anoth." His two

hands took Winter's between them. "If it weren't for you, he

wouldn't  have had the last fourteen years of his life.  And

it's  not just Anakin who was grateful for that, it's  Jaina

and  I  and everyone who knew him." He kissed Winter's hand,

and let it fall.

Mara and Luke embraced Winter, and left the apartment.

Perhaps, Luke thought, Winter's holographic memory  was  not

always a cause for sorrow. She would remember Anakin  as  an

infant,  as  a  growing  boy, and those  brilliant,  undying

memories  might  well  be brighter  than  the  more  distant

knowledge of his death.

Somewhere  at least memories of Anakin were  preserved

perfectly,  Anakin as he was, alive and vital, unscarred  by

the tragedy that was his end.

Luke took great comfort in the thought.

Chapter 16

In  the  end  Jaina  decided to put  aside  any  other

considerations, and concentrate once again on being  a  good

leader  to the Twin Suns Squadron. Half her squadron had  no

combat  experience  beyond  operating  battle  stations   on

Trickster,  and that was hardly their normal line  of  work.

They  were starfighter pilots, and Jaina knew too well  that

even  experienced  pilots had a very short  life  expectancy

when  going  up  against the Yuuzhan Vong.  She  planned  an

ambitious  training schedule, putting the  pilots  in  their

cockpits almost every day, battling against formations of A-

wings, whose speed and combat characteristics most resembled

the  Yuuzhan  Vong  coralskippers.  On  the  days  when  the

squadrons  weren't in their X-wings, they would do classroom

work on tactical theory and practice.

Jaina's  ambitious schedule fell apart on  the  second

day. Twin Suns Squadron was practicing hyperlight maneuvers,

pursuing  a  squadron of A-wings under Colonel Ijix  Harona.

Harona  and  his  Scimitar  Squadron  made  repeated   short

hyperspace  jumps  while Twin Suns Squadron  tried  to  both

follow  them  through hyperspace and end their jumps  in  an

advantageous tactical position relative to their quarry. The

two  squadrons were evenly matched: both were composed  half

of experienced pilots and half of rookies.

The two squadrons had completed their second pursuit-a

modest success, Jaina thought-when a distress signal flashed

across their hyperspace comm units.

"This is New Republic cruiser Far Thunder. We and  the

frigate  Whip  Hand are under attack by approximately  sixty

enemy  coralskippers. Our hyperdrive engines  are  disabled.

Coordinates  follow. We request assistance from  all  nearby

New Republic forces. I repeat..."

Jaina's  blood ran chill. Far Thunder was the  cruiser

that  had  been  disabled at Obroa-skai, and had  been  left

under  escort  by the ex-Imperial Lancer-class frigate  Whip

Hand.  Most  of Far Thunder's personnel had been  evacuated,

and  there  weren't enough remaining to make up  a  fighting

crew.  Jaina  thumbed the intership comm and signaled  Major

Harona.

"Scimitar One, did you copy the distress message?"

"I  copy,  Twin  One."  Harona's  voice  was  slightly

distracted. "Ask them for details. I'm going to query  Fleet

Command."

"Understood,  Scimitar  One."  Jaina  triggered   the

hyperspace  comm. "Far Thunder, this is Twin Suns  Squadron.

Can you give me an idea of your situation?"

"Major  Solo?"  A  new voice came on-line,  and  Jaina

recognized  Far Thunder's, Captain Hannser.  "We  have  only

damage  control  and bridge crew aboard.  We've  slaved  the

weapon systems to droid brains, but it's not as effective as

a  real  fighting crew. We've lost our tender. We've lost  a

lot of our shields and we're getting hammered. Whip Hand  is

holding  her  own  but is too hard-pressed to  protect  us."

Jaina heard quiet despair in the voice. "I just want to  buy

some  time to evacuate my crew and scuttle the ship.  That's

all I ask."

Her  heart  went  out to him. Hannser  had  argued  so

forcefully against Farlander, who had wanted to scuttle  the

cruiser,  and finally won his point . . . only  to  come  to

this.

"Understood, Far Thunder,'''' Jaina said. "Stand by."

She  switched  to intership comm. "Scimitar  One,  Far

Thunder reports-"

"I heard," Harona said shortly, and then added, "Fleet

Command is concerned that it's an ambush."

"The  messages aren't faked," Jaina said. "I recognize

the captain's voice."

"Stand by, Twin One." Jaina waited a long moment while

Harona  signaled  headquarters.  Then  his  voice  returned.

"Fleet   Command  has  left  the  decision  to  me,"  Harona

reported. "If we don't go, they'll order Whip Hand  to  save

herself and abandon the fight,"

Jaina bit her lip. It would take a considerable effort

for  coral-skippers to destroy even a disabled capital ship,

but  they could do it in time. The two reinforcing squadrons

would  go  a long way toward evening the odds, but half  the

starfighter pilots were rookies who couldn't be expected  to

hold their own against the Yuuzhan Vong, and the experienced

pilots would be distracted by having to look after them.

Plus,  the Yuuzhan Vong themselves may have  sent  for

reinforcements.

She  thought  of  shields  falling,  the  hull  being

breached,  death  and  slow-marching  obliteration  as   Far

Thunder  was  destroyed  piece  by  piece,  compartment   by

compartment.

Jaina thumbed her comm button. "I'd risk it, Colonel,"

she said. "If it's too hairy, we can jump out."

There  was  a  long  silence  before  Harona's  voice

returned. "Agreed, Twin One," he said. "We'll use the A-wing

slash, so that puts you in the lead."

"Understood,  Scimitar  One."  Jaina  spoke   through

clenched  teeth-Harona's plan would commit Jaina's  squadron

first,  and  keep  his own A-wings out of the  battle  until

after the fight got nasty.

Not  that Harona's plan didn't make sense. The A-wings

were  little more than a pair of giant Novaldex engines with

weapons   and   a  pilot  strapped  on-they  couldn't   take

punishment  like  an  X-wing, and were best  at  hit-and-run

fighting.

"Stand by to receive jump coordinates. Prepare to jump

on my mark."

"I copy, Scimitar One."

Jaina   switched  to  the  channel   she   used   for

communication  with  her  squadron.  "We  have  received   a

distress  call  from  two capital ships under  attack,"  she

said.  "We're going in to help them. This is no drill."  She

paused  a  moment to let that sink in. "I want wingmates  to

stick  close to their leaders. You are not to go  off  on  a

Vong  hunt  on your own. Each flight is to form single  file

with  two  kilometers between ships. Twin Five, I want  your

flight  twenty kilometers astern of my flight and to right."

Lowie howled an acknowledgment. "Twin Nine, your flight will

fly cover twenty kilometers astern of Twin Five."

"Acknowledged," Tesar said.

She wanted her squadron in single file because it  was

easier  for  the  rookies to keep  up.  They  had  all  been

assigned  as  wingmates to more experienced pilots,  so  all

they  had to do was follow the ship ahead of them and  shoot

at  any  enemy  that  got  in  the  way.  If  the  wingmates

themselves  got bounced, they'd have a veteran pilot  behind

them who might be able to keep their tails from being waxed.

Jaina watched the displays as her squadron settled into

the  assigned  formation. Not a whole  lot  of  bumping  and

weaving, which was good.

"We won't know the full picture until we get in,"  she

said,  "so  be prepared to maneuver the second we  get  into

realspace. Any questions?"

No  questions. Everyone in her squadron, she  thought,

was  either very smart or very stupid. Jaina knew which  way

she wanted to bet.

"Extend  your foils. Arm and test weapons now!"  Laser

bolts  flew past Jaina's cockpit as weapons were tested.  At

least  her  rookies hadn't blown her tail off,  which  under

these conditions had to count as a success.

Her  navigational computer lit as Ijix Harona fed  her

coordinates. "Jump on the colonel's mark," Jaina  said,  and

switched  to  the  "all ships" frequency  to  hear  Harona's

voice.

"On  my  mark," he repeated. "Five. Four. Three.  Two.

Mark."  The starlight streamed away around the cockpit,  and

Twin Suns Squadron was on its way.

It  was  a  twenty-minute hyperspace jump, which  gave

Jaina  far  too much time to think about what was  going  to

happen.  Plans and contingencies swarmed through  her  mind.

Most  of  them  ended with the New Republic  forces  getting

splattered.

She thought of plasma cannon projectiles shredding her

rookies. Or Lowbacca. Or herself. She knew that if  the  war

went  on,  it was only a matter of time before it  happened.

Sooner  or  later the death lottery would call  her  number,

just as it had called so many others.

With an act of resolute will she banished the dead from

her mind. She had to think of ways to survive, not brood  on

the  long  list of the lost. Her mental armor  slatted  into

place around her. She would concentrate only on the outcome,

on a successful resolution of the fight.

It  was  not until her nav computer gave her the  two-

minute  warning that she thought to call on the  Force.  She

had   been   neglecting  her  daily  Force   exercises   and

meditations, and not just because she was busy.  Opening  to

the  Force meant opening to the totality of life,  and  that

included the emotions she was denying herself-grief, terror,

panic,  horror. It meant being vulnerable, and she  couldn't

afford  vulnerability right now. She had to keep focused  on

the  outcome, and anything that didn't lead directly to  the

survival of her squadron was irrelevant.

Nevertheless she called on  the Force, calling only on

its  strength  to refresh her, its vigor to  keep  her  mind

alert.  She  knew  she could do that, for short  periods  at

least,  and  not  be distracted by all the other  things  to

which the Force connected.

Distantly,  in  her Force awareness, she  could  sense

Lowbacca  and  Tesar, and they sent her a  burst  of  fierce

warrior joy. She absorbed it, felt its keen anticipation  of

the  coming  combat,  and tried to use it  to  give  herself

strength. She wished she had other Jedi here, Jedi who could

form  the  linked Force-meld they had called into  being  at

Obroa-skai, but she and Lowie and Tesar were the only  three

present, and three really weren't enough.

The X-wing nav computer gave its chiming warning,  and

suddenly  the  stars  hurled themselves  against  the  black

backdrop  of  space  and  stuck  there.  Jaina  scanned  her

displays and saw at once the two New Republic capital ships,

big  vessels  surrounded  by swarms of  swift-flying  gnats.

Energies flashed on the displays: it was clear that the  two

big ships were still fighting. Far in the distance, standing

off,  were  a pair of tender analogues, unarmed coral  craft

that had brought the coralskippers to the battle.

They were in deep space. No suns, no planets, no moons,

no asteroids, no comets.

"Twin  Squadron,"  she ordered,  "alter  course  sixty

degrees  to  left,  in succession. Once  you  hit  my  mark,

accelerate  to ninety-five percent maximum thrust.  This  is

Twin One, turning now"

The  controls responded smoothly in her hands  as  she

swung  the ship on its new trajectory and punched the engine

controls. Behind her each X-wing followed in turn, the  line

of  ships, almost fifty kilometers long, turning toward  the

fight.  Tesar  and  Lowbacca  were  a  distant,  reinforcing

presence in the Force.

Ijix Harona and his A-wings stayed behind, but Harona's

ships had enough acceleration, Jaina knew, to catch her  any

time he wanted.

"This  is  Twin Suns Squadron and Scimitar  Squadron,"

Jaina  told  Far Thunder and Whip Hand. "Where do  you  want

us?"

Whip Hand replied first. "We're holding our own," Jaina

was told. "Your priority is to help Far Thunder"

"Copy that, Whip Hand.!'' Whip Hand was a Lancer-class

frigate,  developed by the Empire to guard  convoys  against

attacks  by  Rebel starfighters. It was a ship dedicated  to

battling  swarms of small craft, and was ideal  for  holding

oft"  groups  of  corals  kippers.  If  Far  Thunder  hadn't

suffered  so much damage and evacuated so many of its  crew,

the  two  of  them together could have done more  than  hold

their own, but as it was, Whip Hand was severely handicapped

by having to guard its crippled consort.

Jaina  studied the displays and realized to her relief

that the enemy were not moving with the eerie synchrony that

meant a yammosk guided their attacks. That was good, because

she  didn't  have  any of her yammosk-jamming  devices  with

her-there  had  been  no point in taking  one  on  what  was

supposed to be a training flight.

The  relationships of the two big ships, she saw, were

interesting. They were flying abreast, with Whip Hand making

big  rolls around the cruiser to wherever the threat  seemed

greatest. At the moment, Whip Hand was rolling toward  Jaina

and  her approaching squadron, almost eclipsing her view  of

the damaged cruiser.

"Whip  Hand," Jaina transmitted, "can you roll another

fifteen degrees and then hold your position relative to  Far

Thunder I might be able to do you some good."

There was a moment's hesitation. "Very good, Twin One."

Whip  Hand  ponderously rolled into place,  completely

eclipsing Far Thunder.

"Heads  up,  people," Jaina told her squadron.  "We're

going  to  strip  off some of the furball around  Whip  Hand

before  we  get  tangled up in Far Thunder's  trouble.  Pair

leaders,  pick  your own targets. Wingmates, stick  to  your

leaders-remember,  you're just there  to  keep  their  tails

clear. Once you're clear of the skips around Whip Hand) look

for me and hang on to my tail if you can, because things are

going  to  get  hairy fast. If you have any questions,  talk

now."

No  questions. She'd made her instructions very  clear

for  the rookies-just follow the guy in front. The veterans,

on the other hand, probably understood what she was up to.

Whip   Hand  was  getting  very  close.   The   enemy

coralskippers had been fully committed to their attack  runs

and  were  only now beginning to react to Jaina's  presence.

Too  late. Jaina picked one coralskipper that was  only  now

finishing a run on Whip Hand's aft engine assembly. The skip

was  arcing  in  preparation for turning and making  another

run, and its dovin basal shield was probably deployed aft in

order to keep  the frigate's defensive fire from climbing up

its tail.

Perfect. Jaina was closing so fast, the target probably

didn't even know she was within ten kilometers.

It was a deflection shot, but Jaina's reflexes synched

perfectly  with the controls of her X-wing, and  she  turned

the nose just slightly into the enemy's turn and quadded the

laser  cannon. The coralskipper shattered into fragments  as

the X-wing whipped past. Then the big frigate, surrounded by

streams  of  coherent  light from its  turbolasers,  flashed

beneath the belly of Jaina's fighter.

"Roiling to right, Twin Two." Jaina wanted to roll  in

order  to  clear her tail of any enemy who might be bouncing

her, but she didn't want to lose her rookie wingmate as  she

shook  the enemy free.

"I copy, Twin One."

On  her displays Jaina could see her wingmate matching

her maneuver. Twin Two was a female Duro named Vale, who had

thus  far  shown  herself  a reasonably  capable  pilot  for

someone just out of flight school.

Jaina  looked ahead and saw Far Thunder in bad  shape.

Parts  of  the big cruiser were shattered, other areas  were

blackened  as  if by flame. But at least two-thirds  of  her

turbolasers were still pumping out fire at the forty  or  so

coralskippers   that  hovered  around  her,  and   defensive

missiles were still being launched. Space around the cruiser

was filled with brilliant fire.

Again Jaina chose a target, the hindmost of a flight of

four coralskippers that had just made a run on Far Thunder's

bridge. She lifted  the X-wing's nose, matched trajectories,

and  blew  the  skip apart with the second  shot.  Then  she

pulled  the  stick  hard, her fire climbing  to  the  second

coralskipper, and watched flame erupt from its stony hull as

her laser bolts stitched its surface.

The  remaining  two skips dodged left and  right,  and

Jaina  was  unable to follow. In seconds she  had  left  Far

Thunder  far behind and began to pull on the stick in  order

to  loop around and make a second pass. Suddenly laser bolts

were  slashing  past her cockpit. Something crashed  on  her

aftermost shields.

"Skip on your tail, Major!" Vale's shriek dinned in her

ears, and Jaina's heart jolted against her ribs.

"Breaking left!" Jaina said, and yanked the  controls.

The  laser  bolts slid off to the right, and  she  caught  a

glimpse  of  a  coralskipper  as  it  flashed  past,  bright

projectiles  still  flaming from  its  plasma  cannons.  She

doubled back onto the coralskipper and launched a missile at

it, but its dovin basal sucked the missile into oblivion and

the coralskipper shot away, accelerating fast.

"Thanks,  Twin Two," Jaina said. Her heart  was  still

hammering, and she could only hope that Vale's frantic laser

barrage  had frightened the enemy pilot as much  as  it  had

terrified her.

She spent the next few frantic seconds sorting out her

command,  getting  Twin Suns Squadron  organized  after  its

fighting pass and in a position to make another run  at  the

enemy.   Seven  coralskippers  had  been  killed,  with   no

casualties  among  the X-wings, but the  Yuuzhan  Vong  were

ready for them now, two battle group-sized formations having

separated themselves from the main body, ready to bounce the

X-wings when they next approached.

"Lowie, you follow me," Jaina said. "Tesar, your job is

to fly cover and keep those guys off our tails."

"I copy," Tesar said.

"The A-wings should help you," Jaina said. We hope.

She  aimed her flight for the furball surrounding  Far

Thunder  and  punched  the throttles.  An  attacker's  chief

advantage was speed: once she had to slow down in  order  to

maneuver against the enemy, she'd be easy meat for those two

battle  groups hovering out of the action, waiting for  just

such an opportunity.

So, if she could help it, she wouldn't slow down. The A-

wings  weren't  the  only starfighters  that  could  make  a

slashing attack.

The  problem was those two battle groups  hovering  on

either  side  of Far Thunder, just waiting  for  her  to  do

exactly what she was doing.

"Rolling to left," she announced. That would  put  Far

Thunder  between  her squadron and one of the  enemy  battle

groups,  which would mean that the enemy would have  to  run

the  cruiser's gauntlet of fire before it could  reach  her.

Maybe it wouldn't try. She could only hope.

"Leaders, choose your targets," Jaina said. "Wingmates

stick close." She already had a coralskipper picked out, one

just beginning its pass on Far Thunder. She followed it into

its  run,  lined it up, fired lasers . . . only to  see  the

bright bolts of light curl and shift blue and vanish beneath

the  event  horizon of the dovin basal. She fired again,  to

the same result.

And then one of Far Thunder's turbolasers punched right

through the craft like a knife thrust through a bar of soap,

turning  it  to bright rainbow fragments that  spattered  on

Jaina's shields. The skip's dovin basal hadn't been able  to

guard against Jaina and the cruiser both.

She  breathed thanks to whatever droid brain had fired

the  luck)'  shot,  then rolled away from  Far  Thunder  and

punched the throttle to escape the danger zone.

"Twin  Leader,  you're being bounced!" Tesar's  voice.

"Watch your six!"

"Rolling left," Jaina said again. That would put her in

the  overlapping  fields of fire from both Far  Thunder  and

Whip  Hand, which she hoped might intimidate the  Vong.  Her

cockpit  brightened to streams of turbolaser fire, the  blue

and red and green light strobing on her control switches and

dials.

Then plasma cannon projectiles flamed past her extended

right  foils,  and  she jerked her X-wing left  again,  then

rolled back onto the tail of the skip as it raced past.  She

could see the dovin basal singularity deployed aft, but  she

lined  up  the target anyway. Why not? Shooting at it  might

keep it honest.

"Skip  on my six!" Vale's frantic voice jolted Jaina's

heart  again. "I'm breaking right!" Behind Vale's words  she

could  hear the slam of plasma cannon projectiles on the  X-

wing's shields.

Jaina abandoned her quarry and broke left, then right,

an  S  curve  that she hoped would let her line  up  on  the

coralskipper  that was hunting Vale. It flashed  across  her

sights  and  she  fired,  but the  deflection  shot  missed.

Cursing, Jaina hauled the X-wing after the enemy.

"I've lost shields!" The enemy's dovin basal had jumped

forward  and eaten Vale's shields. At least that  meant  the

singularity wasn't deployed aft.

"Twin  Two, break left!" Vale overreacted  to  Jaina's

command,   hauling  the  stick  around  so  hard  that   her

maneuvering  thrusters killed her own  speed  and  made  her

craft  a  perfect target, but the skip swam  across  Jaina's

nose  and  she launched a missile. The enemy craft shattered

like an egg, and for a moment Jaina mistook the buffeting on

her  shields for debris until a bright scarlet plasma cannon

projectile slammed her canopy like a giant hammer ringing  a

bell.  She  rolled her ship to right but the  cannon  rounds

followed, slamming her again and again.

"Vale, your six is clear!" she shouted. "But I've got a

skip on my tail! I'm breaking to right!"

Her  astromech droid R2-B3 gave a squeal of chittering

anger  as  a dovin basal overloaded one of her rear shields.

She  spun  the  ship in a wild corkscrew  spiral  as  plasma

rounds blazed past her cockpit.

Jaina  licked sweat from her upper lip. "Vale, get  me

out  of  this!'" First Far Thunder, then Whip  Hand  whirled

through her vision.

"I can't find you, Major!" her wingmate wailed. One of

the  enemy rounds darted through the broken shield and  took

off  a  chunk of Jaina's upper left foil. She led the  enemy

pilot on a mad dance through the void, but the skip hung on,

its plasma cannons hammering.

"Breaking left!" Jaina called, and hoped someone was in

a position to hear and act on the knowledge. Turbolaser fire

from  Whip  Hand traced surreal patterns across her  vision.

She  could  feel  sweat  beneath her  arms  and  across  her

forehead,  and felt her shoulders tense as if  awaiting  the

shot that would blow her away.

"Twin One, roll right!" Tesar's voice. Jaina heard the

command  through the Force before she heard  Tesar's  words,

and  she  yanked the X-wing around. Laserfire streamed  past

her  canopy,  and then actinic light flared off her  cockpit

instruments  as  the  pursuing  coralskipper  was  blown  to

fragments.

"Thanks, Twin Nine." Jaina blinked sweat from her eyes.

Tesar's  third  flight  had  done  exactly  what  Jaina  had

intended them to do: hang out of the fight until one of  the

hovering enemy squadrons bounced Jaina, and then bounce  the

attackers.

It  wasn't  over,  though, by  a  long  shot.  Jaina's

squadron was still tangled up with a swarm of coralskippers,

and they were all moving very fast. By now they had overshot

the  cruiser  and frigate, and were engaged in a fighter-to-

fighter  duel  outside  the  zone  of  the  capital   ships'

protective fire. They were all on their own, and the numbers

were fairly even.

A burning X-wing crossed Jaina's path, and she felt  a

steel  fist  clamp on her insides and twist. The  two  skips

that had flamed the X-wing flashed past too quickly for  her

to get a shot at them.

"Twin  Two, get on my tail!" The lost aft  shield  was

preying  on  Jaina's  mind, and she very  much  wanted  Vale

behind her helping to cover the gap.

"I   still  can't  find  you,  Twin  Leader!"  Vale's

bewildered cry nearly shattered Jaina's eardrums.

"Never mind," Jaina said. "Just stay alive. I'll  find

you."  Jaina pushed her Force-sense outward, tried to locate

Vale in all the confusion.

"Twin  Ten  and I will stick with you,  Jaina,"  Tesar

said.

"Thanks  again." And then she had to dodge  a  Yuuzhan

Vong  missile  that  was trying to  find  the  hole  in  her

shields. She yelled at her astromech droid to get the shield

up  again  and took a snap shot-and missed-at a coralskipper

that  flashed  past. She found Vale in her heads-up  display

and chased her down just in time to shoot a coralskipper off

her  wingmate's  tail. "Right behind you, Twin  Two,"  Jaina

said  as  the  burning  coralskipper  flamed  off  into  the

darkness.

"Oh thank you!" Vale's exclamation was heartfelt.

"Twin  Nine," Jaina told Tesar. "Vale and I both  have

damaged shields aft. Can you stick with us?"

"Affirmative."

There  followed  several minutes of burning,  tearing,

confused  combat that alternated with bewildered moments  in

which  Jaina couldn't seem to find anyone to shoot  at.  She

took  shots at several coralskippers and launched a pair  of

missiles but had no idea whether she'd succeeded in  hitting

anything. And then she heard Lowie's roaring cry.

More coralskippers were arriving-at least ten of them!

This  was the second enemy battle group that had  been

hovering  out of the combat, waiting to jump Jaina when  she

made  her  attack.  Thanks to her maneuvering,  they'd  been

forced  to fight their way past  the capital ships in  order

to reach Jaina and had lost a pair of skips in doing so, but

now  they  had  arrived.  Now the  odds  against  Twin  Suns

Squadron turned fatal.

Jaina's  next  few moments were frantic  with  evasive

action as she danced and weaved and fled across the face  of

the  void. In the course of her frantic maneuvers  she  lost

track  of  Vale, Tesar, and Twin Ten; she lost  a  sense  of

everything  except  her own terror. Through  the  Force  she

could only sense desperation and terror, and she closed down

her  extended  Force-sense, not wanting  the  other  pilots'

emotions  to  distract her. She saw an X-wing explode  in  a

shower  of orange light, and she fired at skips that crossed

her  path  without knowing whether she hit them or not.  The

intership  comm filled with shouts, warning, and screams  of

frustration,  fear, and anger. Jaina was nearly  blind  with

the  sweat  that  poured into her eyes.  Finally  she'd  had

enough. This was a fight that it was impossible to win.

"Twin  Suns  Squadron!"  she  shouted.  "Prepare  for

hyperflight- return to origin! On my mark!"

"Return to origin" called for a hyperspace leap to the

jump  point previous to this one, meaning the place in empty

space  where  Jaina  had first heard Far Thunder's  distress

call.  There was no problem jumping from here-they  were  in

deep space, where every point was a jump point.

"Negative,  Twin Leader!" came a voice. "Negative!  Do

not jump!"

Only now Jaina remembered Ijix Harona and his flight of

A-wings.

"Where  are you?" she demanded. She pulled her  X-wing

hard  to  the  right to evade the bright fire  of  a  plasma

cannon.  Another  cannon  jolted  her  front  shields  as  a

coralskipper tried a deflection shot.

Colonel  Harona's voice was maddeningly  calm.  "We're

right here."

And suddenly the dark night of space lit with the fires

of burning coralskippers.

Seven  enemy  craft were destroyed in two  seconds  as

Harona's  twelve  A-wings  punched  through  Jaina's  fight.

Jaina's squadron had become so entangled with the enemy that

both  she  and  the  coralskippers had slowed  in  order  to

maneuver,  leaving the Yuuzhan Vong easy,  sluggish  targets

for the A-wings' blazing storm of fire.

Jaina  gave  a shriek of relief and joy. "Cancel  that

hyperspace jump!" she called. "We're back in business!"

There  was  more  desperate fighting for  Jaina  while

Harona  and  his A-wings turned for another pass,  but  this

time  the  odds were more even. She splashed one enemy,  and

scared  another  off the tail of one of her  rookie  pilots.

Then Harona and the A-wings came slashing through again. The

Yuuzhan  Vong this time were more prepared and  the  A-wings

nailed  only four, but that tilted the odds more  decisively

in  Jaina's  favor,  and  now it was the  enemy  desperately

evading across space while the X-wings pursued.

Before the A-wings could make a third pass, the Yuuzhan

Vong broke contact and ran, heading for the tender analogues

that  had  carried  them here. Not just those  engaged  with

Jaina,  but  all the rest as well, all those  harassing  Far

Thunder.

"Good work, Twin Suns," Harona congratulated. "A  fine

day."

A  fine  day for you, Jaina thought. Her jumpsuit  was

soaked  with sweat, and the air in her cockpit fairly smoked

with the tang of adrenaline.

"Form  your  squadron astern of  Far  Thunder"  Harona

ordered.

Jaina's squadron had lost three craft and two  pilots,

both  rookies. Jaina had barely had time to learn the  names

of  the two pilots before the war tore away their lives. Her

own  wingmate  Vale had survived. The rookie pilot  who  had

succeeded  in ejecting from his damaged craft was picked  up

by one of Far Thunder's shuttles that carried its evacuating

crew to Whip Hand.

Once  the  crippled cruiser was evacuated,  Whip  Hand

maneuvered  to within point-blank range of Far  Thunder  and

opened  fire.  The unresisting cruiser blew  to  bits  in  a

furious  explosion, leaving nothing behind for  the  Yuuzhan

Vong.  Jaina  pictured the unlucky Captain  Hannser  on  the

bridge  of  Whip Hand as he watched the destruction  of  the

ship for which he had fought so hard.

Jaina knew just how he felt.

The   Yuuzhan  Vong  had  lost  a  couple  of   dozen

coralskippers in exchange for the destruction of a Republic-

class  cruiser.  Even  though they'd fled  the  battle,  the

Yuuzhan Vong had every reason to call it a victory.

The two starfighter squadrons formed on Whip Hand  and

leapt  together into hyperspace, heading for Kashyyyk.  Once

there, Jaina knew, Twin Suns Squadron would bind its wounds,

acquire  two new replacements, and set out on its  ambitious

training schedule- until, of course, they were again  called

upon  to face the Yuuzhan Vong, and the roll of death's dice

in the void.

Chapter 17

Nom  Anor left the temple square in a thoughtful  mood.

The  temple's  head priest, standing before the  altar,  had

just  delivered  the  message that  High  Priest  Jakan  had

written on the subject of heresy, a message that all priests

were  ordered to repeat to all Yuuzhan Vong over the  course

of  the  next few days: Reverence of the Jedi was explicitly

condemned.

The congregation had been attentive-much more attentive

than  they would have a few days earlier, before the shapers

had  produced  the antifungal balm that had  relieved  their

itching.

Norn Anor, his skin no longer aflame, had listened  to

the  message with approval, at least until the message ended

and  the  crowd  began  to disperse. It  was  then  that  he

realized  that  the priests' message had  been,  perhaps,  a

little too detailed.

What  Jakan had done, the executor suddenly  realized,

was  to  explain  to any potential heretics exactly  how  to

behave.  The  little  band of heretics that  Norn  Anor  had

infiltrated  possessed  a confused, inchoate  doctrine,  the

elements of which they barely understood. But now it had all

been explained to them. They had now been told that heretics

believed  that the Solo twins were emanations of  the  gods;

that  the power of the Jedi was a threat to the gods.  Jakan

had  just  defined  heretical  doctrine  for   the  heretics

themselves!

If  Nom Anor should ever attend another meeting of the

heretical congregation, he suspected they would have a  much

better idea of what they were doing.

Nom Anor rose from his thoughtful trance and discovered

that he was leaving the temple alongside a young shaper, one

who   had-judging  from  the  freshness  of  the  scars-only

recently  acquired the shaper's specialized hand.  Nom  Anor

remembered  the guarded damutek on the fringes  of  the  new

city,  the  one where he'd observed Onimi, and he approached

the shaper.

"Pardon me, friend shaper," Nom Anor said. "I wonder if

I may have a moment of your time."

"Honored  thir?" the shaper said in surprise.  He  had

knocked out several of his own teeth and replaced them  with

some kind of coral implants, presumably ones that aided  him

in  his shaping duties. Nom Anor didn't really want to  know

what  shaper  protocol  required  modified  teeth,  and   he

regretted the young shaper's lisp extremely.

"My  name  is  Hooley Krekk, from the Damutek  of  the

Intendants,"  Nom  Anor  said.  "We're  from  the  Emergency

Resources   department,  and  we've  recently   received   a

requisition from the office of--well, I shouldn't  give  the

name,  save  to say that he's a master shaper. Unfortunately

the requisition is couched in rather technical language, and

neither  I  nor my superior quite understand the purpose  of

the requisition. He says it is important work to do with the

war,  but  we  can't quite understand what the  Shaper  Lord

intends  to do, and my superior is unwilling to release  the

resources until it can be made clearer."

Nom Anor now had the shaper's full attention. Yes, Nom

Anor  thought  at him, this is all about making  your  caste

richer.

"How may I athitht you, thir?" the shaper asked.

"The requisition has to do with supplies necessary  in

order   to   'fulfill  the  directives'  of-"   He   feigned

hesitation, "-of something called a 'cortex,' I believe."

"A cortecth is a body of shaper knowledge," the helpful

shaper  lisped. "Each cortecth wath delivered in the Before-

Time by the godth themselvth to the Thupreme Overlord or  to

mathter shaperth."

"I see," the intendant said. "And how many cortexes are

there, exactly?"

"Eight."

"The eighth would be the highest, then?"

"Yeth,  Lord  Intendant. The eighth  cortecth  is  the

thupreme body of knowledge of the shaper'th art. Motht of it

wath  delivered  by  the  godth to  the  Dread  One  Shimrra

himthelf,  and  he  hath not yet theen fit  to  deliver  the

knowledge even to mathter shaperth."

Nom  Anor felt a chill run up his spine. We're doomed,

he  thought. Who would have thought that extinction would be

heralded by such an absurd, lisping voice?

He  barely  managed to stammer out his thanks  to  the

shaper,   and  quickly  tore  himself  away  in   order   to

contemplate in private what he had just learned. He knew how

governments worked- how else could he subvert them?-and that

knowledge  enabled him to draw conclusions from a sprinkling

of facts.

The eighth cortex, the supreme knowledge possessed only

by  Shimrra and the gods, did not exist. The cortex project,

headquartered just beyond the city and guarded by a corps of

warriors,  was  intended  to  create  the  knowledge,  which

Shimrra would then deliver to his people.

The  Yuuzhan Vong were in a war of indefinite  length,

and they had run out of the knowledge that would enable them

to  win  it.  If  the New Republic continued  to  learn  and

innovate  while  the  eighth  cortex  of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong

remained empty, then the Yuuzhan Vong were finished. Doomed.

About to be wiped from history.

His mind whirled. Nom Anor put a hand against a wall in

order  to  steady himself. And if the gods,  he  thought  in

terror,  have  not Delivered the knowledge to Shimrra,  then

Shimrra. is a fraud, and so are the gods.

Nom Anor wanted to laugh and shriek and wail all at the

same  time.  The  greatest pillars of faith, obedience,  and

hierarchy,  the pillars that held up the great edifice  that

was  the Yuuzhan Vong, were nothing but a swindle. Nom  Anor

had  always suspected this-but he had never expected to have

it proved!

Others were staring at him, he realized. He managed to

pull  himself upright and put one foot in front of the other

as he marched to his office.

The  Yuuzhan  Vong  needed to win  the  war  fast,  he

thought.  Before the lack of an eighth cortex could  make  a

difference. Nom Anor would demand more information from  his

agents  and would sift their reports with the greatest  care

and diligence. He would find the enemy weaknesses and devise

ways  to  take advantage of diem. He would help the  Yuuzhan

Vong hammer the enemy until the enemy surrendered, or was no

more.

And  he  would also try to work out a way to  use  the

knowledge for his own advantage. Because he was, after  all,

Nom Anor.

A  holo  blared  in the small room,  and  tiny  three-

dimensional figures swung their fists: heroes fighting  evil

in the days of the Sith.

"You've returned," Vergere said.

"I have," Luke said. "And I brought you something."

He offered a package of sweets, candies made from a Mon

Calamari seaweed drizzled with a sauce of jewel-fruit.

"Welcome, young Master!" Vergere cried, and  took  the

package.

"I'm  afraid  you  won't find a file  or  a  concealed

vibroblade," Luke said.

Vergere, chewing candy with an expression of bliss, did

not  immediately reply. When she managed to speak, she said,

"My debriefers seem to have run out of questions. This means

that they're busy cataloging all my answers so they can  ask

the   questions  all  again,  and  try  to   catch   me   in

contradiction." There was a trace of amusement in her  tone.

"If  I  contradict myself, they prove I'm a  spy  because  I

can't  keep my story straight; whereas if I don't contradict

myself, they prove I'm a spy because I'm too well briefed."

Luke  laughed  to himself, imagining Ayddar  Nylykerka

cursing  as  he  heard  this. He had  just  shown  Luke  the

transcripts of Vergere's interviews, all annotated  for  the

reinterrogation;   he'd  now  learned   that   Vergere   had

anticipated his every move.

Vergere  waved off the holo as Luke settled  onto  his

chair. "There's this comfort at least," she said, "the holos

are as witless as I remember."

"That must be a consolation."

She peered at him. "You've come to ask a question."

"You owe me an answer from last time."

Vergere settled comfortably onto her stool and  popped

another candy into her mouth. "Begin, then," she mumbled.

"How did you prevent the Yuuzhan Vong from finding out

about your abilities? We know that yammosks can detect Force-

users."

"It  is  easier to demonstrate than to  explain."  She

faced him directly. "Please attack me through the force."

He looked at her in surprise. "Attack you how?"

"Mentally." Her whiskers rippled. "If it helps, you may

use  a  component  of that anger you first brought  to  this

room.  I'll trust that you're a gentleman and won't make  it

lethal."

Give  in to your anger. The Emperor's seductive  voice

echoed  in  his mind. Was Vergere trying to provoke  him  to

anger, bring him to the dark side?

If so, that attempt was doomed. He had withstood Vader

and  Palpatine when he was barely more than a boy; now  that

he  was  a Jedi Master in the prime of life he would  hardly

fall victim to such a trick.

Luke turned his chair to face her and crossed his legs.

The  Force  welled  into his mind like water  rising  in  an

artesian spring. Force awareness expanded in all directions:

he  was aware of Ayddar Nylykerka outside the room, the  two

techs  who  monitored the equipment, a prisoner  in  another

cell,  others  who worked in an office just above  them.  He

could  sense the glow of their lives in the Force, hear  the

throb of their hearts, and time their whispering breaths. He

knew  that one of the techs was concentrating on a technical

problem, and that his friend was daydreaming of her  fiance,

who  had  four  arms and bright blue fur and  who  sent  her

flowers and reams of bad poetry . . .

But what Luke could not detect was Vergere. She seemed

to  have vanished completely from his Force-awareness,  even

though  he could plainly see her sitting on her stool across

from him.

He  refined his awareness and finally detected her,  a

kind  of  fitful uncertain presence, her life force a  faint

cool phosphorescence compared to the bright candle flames of

the others.

Luke tried to refine his sense of Vergere to a greater

degree,  but  she was remarkably evasive: she  kept  sliding

away  from  his  perceptions, like  a  slippery  melon  seed

squeezed  between  the  fingers. The difficulty  of  keeping

Vergere  in  focus produced in Luke a sense of  frustration,

which  he used deliberately to fuel an attack at the elusive

target,  a  fast snakelike strike configured  as  a  command

simply to remain still. The mental bolt fired but failed  to

find its target.

He  built a strike more deliberately, drawing more  of

the  Force  to power the attack, not a jab this time  but  a

battering  ram. reveal yourself, he commanded, and  launched

the strike. Again Vergere eluded him.

His  frustration rose, and he used it to power another

fast strike, like a reflex backhand blow. Nothing.

Luke  began  to  vary  his  attacks  between  massive,

deliberate  cannonades and swift, intuitive reflex  strikes,

hoping  that  one  or  the  other  would  catch  Vergere  by

surprise. Nothing worked.

Vergere  continued to sit on her stool, her re  verse-

articulated  knees  poking up above  her  head  like  knobby

horns,  her eyes gazing mildly into Luke's. / can see  where

she  is, Luke realized. He didn't have to search for her  in

the Force.

So  he  built a Force wall around her, an iron box  to

keep  her mind from slipping away, and he made up the  walls

of  the box with the command reveal yourself. After this  he

shrank  the  box,  forced it smaller around Vergere's  small

body, molding it until it fit her form exactly, a prison  to

contain her spirit. And then he called more of the Force  to

him, building a vast mental cannonball that would obliterate

anything  in  its  path,  again  with  the  command   reveal

yourself,  and  he aimed the cannonball at the  tiny  figure

that he'd trapped inside the iron box.

"Reveal yourself, " he commanded again, and he launched

the cannonball.

He  knew it entered the box. He knew Vergere's  spirit

was trapped there, boxed in, unable to move. But somehow the

tiny  target eluded him and the cannonball slid  away  on  a

curving  trajectory, through the wall, into the  next  cell,

and  Luke was suddenly and startlingly aware of the prisoner

there,  who  jumped  from  his cot  and  screamed,  "Yes!  I

confess! I stole the captain's shoes while he was drunk!"

Revealing himself.

Luke  laughed and let the Force-awareness ebb  to  its

normal level. "I'm going to get tired if I keep this up," he

said.

"That last one almost worked," Vergere said from around

a piece of candy.

"I hope you can teach this technique," Luke said.

"There  is more than one technique involved. I managed

to evade that last strike with a kind of mental parry, as in

fencing.  You  know  how  a thrust can  be  parried  not  by

opposing  it,  but  by redirecting it slightly  so  that  it

misses its goal?"

"Of course,"

"I  did something similar. I added just enough  mental

energy to your strike to cause it to divert. The timing  was

very  difficult to judge, and there was no small measure  of

luck involved in my success."

"And your other techniques?"

"Do you know the definition of a master of defense?"

"Tell me."

"A  master of defense is one who is never in the place

that  is  attacked. One can move the attack, as I  just  did

with my parry, but one can also simply not be there!"

"Not so simply," Luke murmured.

"I  call it making myself small. I narrow my focus bit

by  bit  until it becomes, well, microscopic. Tiny. My  mind

and  Force-awareness I shrank to an infinitesimal  size.  An

enemy  has  the same chance of finding me as his  chance  of

finding one molecule amid billions of others."

"Your  tears," Luke said. "That's how  you  make  your

tears."

"Very good, young Master," Vergere said. "Yes. In that

state  I can rearrange molecules, take them apart, and build

new  ones  bit  by  bit.  I use my tears  because  they  are

convenient, but I can accomplish the same thing  with  other

material."

"I  know a Jedi healer, Cilghal, who would delight  in

this technique."

"I'll try to teach her, if you and she are willing. If

I'm ever permitted to leave this place."

"You  can  teach  without  leaving  this  room,"  Luke

reminded her.

A  sly smile drifted across Vergere's face. "I can-but

will I?"

Vergere gave one of her wheezing laughs, and popped  a

candy into her wide mouth.

"If  the military releases you from here," Luke  said,

"will you aid us in the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong?"

Vergere rolled the sticky candy into her cheek as  she

spoke.  "Insofar  as it coincides with  my  goals,  I  will.

Though  I  am  much  more a teacher than a  warrior,  and  I

believe  my  greatest  objective is to  help  Jacen  to  his

destiny." Her eyes narrowed. "I understand that he  is  your

apprentice, not mine, and that you may have other intentions

for him."

"I'm glad that you appreciate that." Luke had no clear

idea whether he wanted to let Vergere near Jacen ever again.

"I think I have much to teach him."

"I  don't  want him to become dependent on you,"  Luke

hedged.

"Nor do I."

There  was  a  moment of silence. Then  Vergere  said,

"Correct  me  if  I'm wrong in my understanding.  But  Jacen

gives  me to understand that you've put restrictions on  the

Jedi  during  the course of this war, forbidding  aggressive

actions,"

"I've tried to do so," Luke said, and then laughed. "My

success has been modest."

"But my understanding is that you, yourself, undertook

offensive  warfare against the forces of the  late  Emperor.

For  instance,  you were part of a party that  attacked  the

first  Death  Star. You led the destruction of the  criminal

organization of the Hutt called Jabba. You accepted military

rank  and participated in numerous offensive actions against

the  forces  of  the  Empire and other enemies.  You  didn't

confine yourself to spying missions and aiding refugees."

"All true."

"So my question is, what has changed?"

Luke  paused  and considered how best to  marshal  his

arguments. "The Yuuzhan Vong are a different enemy, for  one

thing,"  he  began.  "Our  special talents  are  ineffective

against  them.  And-as I expressed yesterday-I  didn't  know

what we owed a species so far outside life as we knew it."

Vergere  nodded her understanding. "You have heard  my

opinion  that the Yuuzhan Vong are not outside the Force.  I

wonder if this has changed anything."

Luke  hesitated. "I don't think so. The Jedi  Code  is

clear in its statements against aggression. I know much more

about the dark side than I did when I was twenty. I know how

easily  the dark can enter, how the dark can infiltrate  the

heart even when it's most certain of its own actions, and  I

know that many of my students aren't ready to face it."

"You cut off your father's hand."

"Yes."

"You want to prevent your students from making the same

mistakes that you have made."

"Of course."

A  disdainful  look crossed Vergere's face.  "That  is

egotism speaking."

Resentment  prickled along Luke's nerves.  "You  don't

know  my students. You don't know how impulsive and reckless

they are. Don't judge them all by Jacen." He hesitated. "Kyp

Durron killed millions"

"And this was your responsibility."

Again Luke hesitated. "The situation was complex. I was

paralyzed, and Kyp was under the control of-"

"You mean to say that it was not your responsibility,"

Vergere interrupted, her tone harsh.

"I  could have been more aware of the situation," Luke

insisted. "There's so much I could have done-"

"So it is your responsibility." Interrupting again.

"The  next time it will be!" Luke insisted. "The  next

time  one  of my students is swept away on a dark  whirlwind

and catastrophe results, it will be my fault!"

Vergere's feathery crest rose. She smoothed it with her

fingers.  "Of course it would not be your fault," she  said.

"You are a Jedi Master, not a nursemaid!"

"I trained them," Luke said. "If their training fails-"

"When you cut off your father's hand, was it the fault

of  your  teachers?" Vergere demanded.  "Did  Yoda  fail  to

instruct you what dark passion could do?"

"No, I-" Frustration throbbed in Luke's heart. "That's

different. I-"

"I,"  Vergere  mocked. "I, I, I.  Upon  you  lies  the

spiritual health of yourself and all those whom you  taught.

Is that not ego speaking?"

Luke  looked  at  her as realization  struck.  "You're

trying to make me angry," he said.

"Yes," she said simply. "Did I succeed?"

"You  did." Luke found his anger easing as he realized

that Vergere had been manipulating him-though it didn't fade

entirely, it still hummed, subdued, in his nerves.

"I preyed upon your weakness," Vergere said. "I preyed

upon  your  lack  of self-knowledge, your uncertainty  about

where your responsibility lies for the behavior of those who

have been your students." Her piebald feathers rippled. "Was

your anger dark?"

"It was getting there," Luke said.

"So where was  the darkness? In me, in you, or in  the

Force?"

"I think you've been asking too many questions."

Vergere sat back on her haunches. "I wondered when you

were going to notice. If you have a question, ask it."

"You've  been saying that dark passions are caused  by

lack of self-knowledge. But Emperor Palpatine was dark,  and

I  can  hardly  imagine  that he lacked  self-knowledge.  He

seemed  perfectly comfortable within his evil.  How  do  you

reconcile this with your theory?"

Vergere  paused,  assembling her  argument.  "Darkness

enters  through the dark passions," she said  finally.  "But

sometimes it remains through invitation. Palpatine,  knowing

himself thoroughly, may simply have decided to become  dark,

or to let the dark part of his own nature dominate."

"You're saying he may have chosen evil. Coldly, not out

of a hot passion."

"Sometimes  people make such choices." Vergere's  tone

was  amused.  "Usually these people are  trivial  or  silly.

Swearing  a  midnight  oath,  solemnly  intoning,  I  choose

evil!'-what a ridiculous picture! But sometimes there may be

a  genius  who  chooses to free the dark  side  within  him.

Perhaps Palpatine was one such-I cannot say, I knew him only

distantly, as a politician. But I can say this-the dark  may

enter through meditation as well as through anger."

Luke  considered this. Certainly Palpatine and Vader's

methods  hadn't been to urge him to evil through meditation,

but  then-if  he  had joined them as their  disciple-perhaps

that would have come.

"Have  I  answered  completely?"  Vergere  said.  Luke

nodded.  "If  so,"  Vergere went on, "I  would  ask  another

question.  Do  you  think the Force cares  what  shade  your

thoughts may be?"

"The Force is all life. It embraces all options. But I

care."

Vergere nodded. "A good answer, young Master.  Because

the  shades,  the dark and the light and all the  colors  of

the  rainbow-"  She leaned forward and tapped  Luke  on  the

breast  with one hand. "-they are here. Light and  dark  are

not  some great abstracts in the sky, but a part of you, and

the Force reflects what it finds in you."

Later, when Luke spoke with Ayddar Nylykerka, he said,

"You  might as well let Vergere go. You're not going to  get

anything out of her that she doesn't want to give you."

Nylykerka was surprised. "You're no longer worried she

might be a danger?"

"It still concerns me," Luke said, "but if Vergere  is

an  enemy, we won't find out by keeping her here. We'll find

out by watching what she does once she's been released."

The  Tammarian  looked  thoughtful.  "I'll  give  your

recommendations serious thought, Master Skywalker."

"If  you  decide to release her," Luke said,  "I'd  be

obliged  if you'd let me know first. And you could  let  her

know  my  address and comm code, in case she wants to  speak

with me."

"I'll do that."

Luke bowed. "Thank you, Commander Nylykerka."

"At your service, sir."

Luke  made his way to the planet's surface,  Vergere's

words spinning through his mind.

What has changed?

Perhaps everything.

"We  know that there must be many refugees from Vortex

on  Mon  Calamari," Lando Calrissian said. "And  we're  sure

that they're in touch with your office."

"A  great  many  of them, yes," said  Fyg  Boras,  the

Senator  from  Vortex. He and Lando were seated comfortably,

with drinks, in the hotel suite Lando had rented.

"We  sympathize," Lando said. "And as you know,  we've

brought  sixteen  ships'  worth of relief  supplies  to  Mon

Calamari to help settle the refugees here."

Ice tinkled in Boras's drink. The discreet scent of his

minty  cologne wafted through the air. "I'm grateful  on  my

constituents' behalf."

"We have a problem, though, and perhaps you can help."

"How may I assist you?"

"We  have the supplies, but no way to distribute them.

What  we  thought  we'd do is present you  with  twenty-five

metric  tons  of supplies. You can distribute them  to  your

constituents as you think best."

Boras's eyes grew wide. "That's certainly . .  .  very

generous,"  he  managed. "Twenty-five tons?" He  was  almost

visibly  calculating  how much twenty-five  tons  of  relief

supplies  was worth in the current market, with the planet's

few  surface  areas swarming with refugees  from  dozens  of

worlds, all desperate for the most basic necessities.  Boras

no  longer  had  a  homeworld to return to,  and  without  a

homeworld to vote him in he was obviously never going to  be

returned to the Senate: he had to think about his future.

"Twenty-five tons," Lando repeated. "Though there is a

catch."

Boras's  wide eyes narrowed to slits. "And what  might

the catch be?"

"We  hope  to  be able to sell our YVH droids  to  the

military," Lando said. "If you can use your best efforts  to

vote an amendment onto  the upcoming military appropriations

bill, you'll find us extremely appreciative."

Boras sipped his drink carefully. "You'd best tell  me

about these droids."

"I  have a full array of literature," Lando said, "and

of course a demonstration holo ..."

After  Boras  left  with  an  armful  of  datapads  to

distribute to his peers, Talon Karrde stepped from the  next

room. "It's all recorded," he said.

"Boras's bribe weighs twenty-five tons." Lando smiled.

"It's going to be hard for him to claim it doesn't exist."

Unlike the distinguished Senator from Bilbringi,  who,

on  being offered the relief supplies, simply demanded their

equivalent in cash. That holo was particularly entertaining.

"Who's our next guest?" Lando asked.

Karrde glanced at his datapad. "Chau Feswin, from  the

Elrood sector."

"The  Elrood  sector isn't threatened by  the  Yuuzhan

Vong. Do you think he'd have any use for relief supplies?"

"Make the offer," Karrde shrugged. "We can always turn

it  into  cash  later." He looked up. "We've also  got  some

calls from other Senators who must have heard about us from,

ah,  our  other  clients.  They're very  interested  in  the

military  acquiring our droids. Practically  begging  us  to

bribe them."

Lando looked at him with a growing smile. "I think  we

should oblige."

Karrde shrugged. "I can't think of any reason not to."

He  looked thoughtful. "But I wonder-if these people are  on

our payroll, who else's payroll are they on?"

"That answer would be interesting, wouldn't it?" Lando

said. "By the way, have you heard how Mara's doing?"

"Not yet. But I hope to hear from her soon."

Mara was in fact doing well. She had taken YVH-M-1 out

for  its  maiden  Yuuzhan  Vong hunt,  wandering  government

buildings  and  large public concourses. She  lunched  at  a

kiosk  set up in a shopping concourse and then sat  down  to

digest  and to watch  the passersby. She told the  droid  to

search on its own.

She was distracted by the sight of a pair of children,

children Ben's age, taking their first hesitant steps in the

open-air  creche the concourse provided as a convenience  to

its  customers.  Sadness rose in Mara and took  her  by  the

throat.  For  a moment she missed Ben so much  that  it  was

almost a physical pain.

And  then  the mouse droid signaled her portable comm.

Mara  looked  up from the creche, startled. The mouse  droid

signaled again.

The droid had located a Yuuzhan Vong infiltrator-or at

least  someone  the mouse droid claimed was a Yuuzhan  Vong.

Mara  asked  the droid for a homing signal, and followed  it

until  she saw the person in question: a tall, rather  broad

female   human,  inconspicuously  dressed,,   who   wandered

seemingly  at  random  along the  shopping  galleries.  Mara

called  the Force into her mind, letting  the lives  of  all

the  thousands of living beings in the concourse flood  into

her awareness.

All the beings save one. Her target was a cold void in

the  Force, an emptiness that Mara had learned to  associate

with  the Yuuzhan Vong.

"Good work, mousie," Mara said.

Mara  was  plainly dressed, in worn robes  such  as  a

refugee might wear, with a hood that she could wear over her

overly conspicuous red hair. She alternated the hood with  a

floppy-brimmed  hat in order to change her  silhouette,  and

she carried a datapad through which she could issue commands

to the mouse droid, and also view what the droid was seeing.

She  following the target at a distance  and  let  the

droid  do  most  of the spying for her. The target  wandered

through the shopping concourse for twenty minutes or so, and

then sat on a bench as if to take a rest. At this point Mara

managed to get the droid close and behind the bench, just in

time  to observe the target reach beneath the seat and  peel

off something that had been stuck there.

Aha!  Mara  thought delightedly. This was better  than

getting an idiot's array at sabacc.

The target lumbered to her feet and strolled down  the

concourse. Mara drifted after. The target paused a moment by

a  vending machine, then continued on. When Mara purchased a

snack  from  the  machine  and looked  behind  it,  she  saw

something stuck there with an adhesive. It was just the size

of a bundle of credits.

Mara decided to let the mouse droid follow the Yuuzhan

Vong  and  to wait near the vending machine for whoever  was

scheduled  to pick up his payment. She perched  on  a  store

windowsill and ate her snack, which was some kind of  fried,

salted  seaweed  that  tasted of iodine  and  was  obviously

intended for a Mon Calamari palate. Within an hour the money

was picked up by a Sullustan male, who used part of the cash

immediately on a flashy new jacket purchased in one  of  the

most  exclusive boutiques in the arcade. The Sullustan  then

returned to work, which turned out to be in the building the

Senate  had  requisitioned for its offices. Mara  discovered

that  the  Sullustan worked in the office of  Senator  Krall

Praget, a member of the Security and Intelligence Council.

Most interesting, Mara thought.

She  then  caught up with the mouse droid,  which  had

followed  the  suspected  Yuuzhan  Vong  infiltrator  to  an

apartment  building. Mara made a note of  the  address,  and

then  called Ayddar Nylykerka on her comm, and told  him  to

buy  as  many of the mouse droids as Lando and Talon  Karrde

had available.

YVH-M-1 had proved its worth on its very first day.

Cola  Quis dropped out of the race for Chief of  State

following  a  ringing  endorsement for  Cal  Omas,  who  had

quietly  promised him chairmanship of the Commerce  Council,

midlevel  ministry  jobs to several of his  friends,  and  a

branch  office of the Kellmer Institute for Ryloth.  On  the

next vote, Cal added enough votes to raise his percentage to

35. Not all of Quis's supporters followed his lead, however,

and Fyor Rodan picked up another couple of percentage points

and stayed in the lead, with 37. Pwoe held steady with three

votes  total.  Tal'aam Ranth added enough to  his  total  to

raise  his  percentage  to 22, which meant  that  the  soft-

spoken,  exquisitely polite Gotal chairman  of  the  Justice

Council now controlled enough votes in the Senate to deliver

the election either to Cal Omas or to Fyor Rodan.

Ranth was now being courted in earnest.

Tons  of refugee supplies were shipped to the planet's

surface  from the smuggler fleet overhead. The new  military

appropriations  bill,  with riders  attached  involving  the

purchase  of  thousands of YVH droids,  passed  out  of  the

Defense Council and onto the Senate floor. The Senate, urged

by all three candidates to act quickly, passed the bill with

only  a  few token attempts at adding amendments to  earmark

funds  for a particularly worthy planet or cause or brother-

in-law.

Mara found a second Yuuzhan Vong infiltrator. She and a

squad  of mouse droids and Nylykerka's agents began  mapping

the  two  infiltrators'  contacts  and  associates.  Primary

residences  and safe houses were located, and  eavesdropping

devices quietly inserted.

Considering the alarming implications of everything she

was discovering, Mara was having a strangely pleasant time.

"Every  morning, I want every person in my command  to

ask himself the same question. And that question is: how can

I hurt the Yuuzhan Vong today?"

Admiral Traest Kre'fey was visiting every ship in  his

command, first to conduct an inspection and then to  address

ship  personnel. He was speaking from the enlisted  mess  of

Starsider,  a  room large enough to contain  all  the  fleet

personnel who were stationed or passing through or barracked

on  the old Dreadnaught. Jaina, flanked by Kyp and Lowbacca,

sat  at a table on one edge of the room, watching the white-

furred Bothan bound up and down on his speaker's platform.

Kre'fey  was  in  good spirits  today,  and  his  body

language showed it. He bounced on the balls of his  feet  as

he  repeatedly punched the air to emphasize his points,  and

his  fur  continually  peaked and smoothed  with  surges  of

emotion.

"And  if  you can't find a way to hurt the Vong,"  the

admiral  continued,  "I  want  you  to  ask  yourself   this

question: how can I help my own side grow stronger?"

"At  least  it's  leadership," Kyp  said,  his  murmur

pitched to carry only to the ears of his fellow Jedi.  "It's

not like we've seen a lot of leadership in this war."

"Maybe  it's a little more leadership than  we  need,"

Jaina murmured in answer.

Lowie  knew  better  than to say anything  himself-his

translator droid lacked discretion, and would probably shout

the translation out at full volume-but he allowed himself  a

small moan of agreement.

"We're  going  to win the war of production!"  Kre'fey

proclaimed.  "Our factories are building more  starfighters,

more  capital ships, and more weapons than ever before!  Our

schools  are  turning out more pilots and  other  personnel!

Within  months  we'll have replaced all the terrible  losses

we've suffered so far in this war!"

Jaina thought of Anakin and Chewbacca, and Anni Capstan

and others, the millions who'd lived on Sernpidal and Ithor.

Unique, individual beings, alive and responsive to the other

lives  around  them. Replaced? No one could replace  any  of

them.

"That  trip to Bothawui has changed the admiral,"  Kyp

said. "He used to be a lot less bouncy."

"The Bothans declared ar'krai and removed any necessity

for moral responsibility," Jaina said. "I imagine that could

cheer a person up."

"We're  going to smash the Vong!" Kre'fey  proclaimed.

"We're  going to smash them every day! We're going to  smash

them until there are no more Yuuzhan Vong!"

The room erupted in applause. Jaina and the other Jedi

remained silent.

After Kre'fey's speech had worked its way to a rousing

conclusion,  Jaina was stopped at the exit  by  one  of  the

admiral's aides.

"Major Solo?" he said. "The admiral would like to  see

you."

Kre'fey  met  Jaina in an office loaned  him  for  the

purpose  by  Starsider's captain. Kre'fey was still  clearly

exhilarated from his speech, still bouncing energetically on

the balls of his feet. His vicinity smelled very strongly of

excited Bothan.

"I saw you in the audience and I thought I'd have Snayd

pull you in for a chat."

"Very good, sir." Which seemed a proper sort of  thing

for a bewildered officer to say. Chats with admirals were  a

rarity in her experience.

Kre'fey's  whiskered face beamed. "Did  you  like  the

speech?"

Jaina  answered  truthfully. "I  thought  it  was  the

strongest speech I've heard in this war, sir." At  least  it

said most of the right things.

Kre'fey  was  impressed. "Coming  from  Leia  Organa's

daughter,  I'll  take  that  as a  very  special  compliment

indeed."

"My  mother  hasn't had many chances to make  speeches

lately, sir," Jaina said.

"Regrettably  true." Kre'fey paused, his  furred  hand

brushing the polished tabletop. "I thought," he began, "that

I would send you to see your brother."

"Sir?"  Jaina was almost speechless with delight.  She

could  see  Jacen! Touch him! Feel his mind floating  toward

her in the twin bond ...

"Colonel  Darklighter tells me  that  you've  been  in

continuous  action against the enemy for  many  months.  You

deserve  a rest, but the war hasn't been able to spare  you.

But  things  have  grown quiet with both sides  reorganizing

after  Coruscant, and we can spare you now. So I'm going  to

send you on a furlough to Mon Calamari, for two weeks . . ."

He  drawled  out the last words, then raised  a  finger  and

pointed at Jaina. "But you're going on a special mission for

me, understand?"

Jaina  tried her best not to stare at him. "No,  sir,"

she said. "I don't understand."

"You said that you needed more Jedi for your experiment

in Force-meld to work. I want you to talk to your mother, to

your uncle Luke, and I want you to get me those Jedi. I want

to put those Jedi in my ships and have them link through the

Force in combat." He grinned. "What do you think?"

"I'll do my best, sir. But-" Protests rose reluctantly

into her mind. "My squadron's been completely reorganized in

the  last month, sir. I have two brand-new pilots fresh  out

of flight school. Another four who have only been with us  a

few  weeks. We haven't flown together long enough to-I  need

time, sir-I'm afraid my squadron can't spare me."

"Your  number  two  can take over for  a  few  weeks,"

Kre'fey said. "He's another Jedi, isn't he? The Wookiee?"

"Yes,  but  he's  busy  with  his  team  investigating

Trickster.'"

"His team can do without him for a few hours every day.

I  want  you on Mon Calamari finding Jedi for me." He smiled

kindly.  "And  getting  some rest, of  course.  You've  been

working too hard, like all of us."

He rose, and Jaina realized the audience was over. She

stood and saluted.

"I'll  have Snayd draw up your orders," Kre'fey  said.

"You're to leave tomorrow."

"Very good, sir." Soon she could see Jacen!

The  next  day, as she set out in her X-wing  for  Mon

Calamari,  Twin Suns Squadron soared past her, brilliant  in

the  light  of  Kashyyyk's sun, and tipped  their  wings  in

salute  before  cutting in their engines and flashing  away,

out of sight.

She  felt like a traitor for leaving them behind.  The

rookies  needed  much  more training before  they'd  have  a

chance  of  surviving  against  the Yuuzhan  Vong,  and  she

wouldn't be there to supervise it. What if one of them  died

because of something she hadn't been present to teach  them?

What  if  the whole squadron was led to disaster because  of

something she could have prevented?

Jaina had every faith that Lowie would do a good job as

squadron commander. But it wasn't Lowie's squadron,  it  was

hers.   Whatever  happened  to  it,  it  was  she  who   was

responsible.

Jaina sighed, settled into her molded seat, and  began

plotting  the  first of the long series of jumps  that  were

calculated to avoid the dangerous parts of the wide  Yuuzhan

Vong-occupied  swath  of  worlds between  Kashyyyk  and  Mon

Calamari.

She  thought  about seeing Jacen again,  and  all  her

doubts faded.

"Welcome, Senator." Lando, smiling broadly, shook  Fyg

Boras's  hand and escorted him to an armchair. "I'd like  to

express  my  admiration  on  the rapidity  with  which  your

committee dealt with the YVH amendment."

"A surprising number of my colleagues were in favor of

the amendment," Boras said. "An unsubtle number, perhaps."

"These days," Lando said, "a person with tons of relief

supplies can't help but make a lot of friends."

"You're  giving  away  enough.  The  price  of  basic

commodities has dropped enormously in the last few days."

"But surely that's a good thing, Senator!" Lando said.

"No  doubt,"  Boras gloomed. Lando and Karrde  had  so

flooded  the market with relief supplies that the  Senator's

illicit  profits were barely keeping ahead of the  costs  of

warehousing everything he was secretly offering for sale.

Cheaters never prosper, Lando thought virtuously.

"I  thought  we  might  discuss  the  future  of  our

relationship,"  Lando said, and seated himself  adjacent  to

the Senator.

"I  hope  you're  not going to offer  me  more  relief

supplies."

Lando  steepled  his fingertips and  tried  to  ignore

Boras's  nose-tickling minty cologne.  "What  I  hoped,"  he

said, "was to discuss the next Chief of State."

"I'm committed to Fyor Rodan, as you know."

"I was hoping to change your mind."

"That's not possible," Boras said shortly. "I've made a

definite commitment."

"I  regret that extremely. Because it's then  possible

that people may see this holovid."

He touched the control of the room's holoprojector, and

Boras  watched  with increasing petulance at  the  sight  of

himself in his first meeting with Lando.

"You can't release that!" he snapped finally. "If  I'm

guilty of taking a bribe-which I'm not-then you're guilty of

offering one! To release that holo would be to put your  own

head into the noose!"

"I  would  never claim that I bribed you," Lando  said

with indignation. "I've never bribed anyone in my life!"

"Then what's all this about?" Boras snarled.

"I gave you the supplies to be given free to refugees,"

Lando  said. "That's very clear in the holo. If it could  be

demonstrated that you were selling the supplies, instead  of

giving  them  away,  then  that would  be-why  it  would  be

illegal) wouldn't it?"

Boras stared at Lando with burning hatred in his eyes.

"Now,"  Lando said with a perfect white smile,  "about

the next Chief of State."

The  next  three days saw an extraordinary  number  of

defections from the camp of Fyor Rodan. Not just  those  who

had  allowed  themselves  to be  bribed,  but  others  whose

activities  had been revealed by a little of Talon  Karrde's

research.  Those who stole fleet elements in order  to  make

their escape from Coruscant, or who called for the fleet  to

escort  them to safety while other naval units, deprived  of

support,  stayed and died. There were those who  had  sprung

criminals from custody on condition that the criminals  help

them  escape  the  Yuuzhan Vong. Others  had  taken  massive

bribes  in  order  to take world-class criminals  offplanet.

There  was one Senator who had left his whole family  behind

in  order  to  provide  transport to  a  well-fed  Coruscant

plutocrat and his harem of mistresses.

Some  of these-the supporters Fyor Rodan most  counted

on-  were  persuaded  to  announce publicly  that  they  had

changed their minds and intended to vote for Cal Omas.

The following morning Mara-now operating with a pair of

YVH-M  mouse droids-picked up a Yuuzhan Vong infiltrator  at

her  place  of  residence and followed her through  refugee-

packed  streets  toward the edge of Heurkea  Floating  City,

where  gracefully  curved  seawalls  kept  the  green  ocean

rollers from sweeping right up the streets. The Yuuzhan Vong

wasn't interested in the view, but walked along the base  of

the  seawall to a bubble-topped structure that projected out

over the water.

When the target entered, Mara remained outside and sent

one of the mouse droids through the broad, open doorway. The

structure  proved  to be a private marina,  with  boats  and

submersibles of various sizes moored in long rows of  slips.

The  Yuuzhan Vong spoke to a Quarren who sat behind  a  desk

near  the  entrance, and the Quarren handed her  what  might

have  been  a set of keys. The infiltrator then  walked  out

onto one of the jetties.

Mara  left  her  second droid near  the  entrance  and

entered the marina herself. The salt-and-iodine scent of the

sea  was strong in the confined space. The Yuuzhan Vong, she

saw,  was inspecting a submersible. Drawing the hood of  her

robe  forward  to partly mask her face from the  Vong,  Mara

approached the Quarren.

"Do you rent submersibles here?" she asked.

"No,"  the  Quarren said. "We rent berths  to  private

vehicles only." One of its facial tentacles pointed politely

toward the door. "If you want to rent submersibles, you  can

turn right at the entrance, then walk along the seawall to-"

Mara's  comm unit chittered at her. "Excuse  me,"  she

said,  and stepped away from the desk just as a large  human

male  walked into the building. The new arrival  blinked  as

his  eyes  adjusted  to  the relative  darkness  inside  the

covered   marina,  and  during  that  time  Mara  read   the

information that her mouse droid was trying to tell her.

The new arrival was another Yuuzhan Vong. Mara's heart

leapt.  She  turned her head away from the new  arrival  and

tried  to  shrug  into her hood-it wasn't as  if  Mara  Jade

Skywalker   wasn't   someone  an  enemy  infiltrator   might

recognize  at  close  range.  But  the  infiltrator   wasn't

interested  in her, or in the Quarren. Without looking  left

or right, the Yuuzhan Vong marched into the building, walked

down the long jetty, and joined the first Vong.

Frantically Mara considered her options. For years she

had  been  the  Emperor's Hand. She  had  lived  as  a  spy,

infiltrator, and assassin, and she understood spy work well.

Two  Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators meeting face to face violated

every  single principle of tradecraft-if the two  needed  to

speak, they could do so by villip with complete privacy;  if

villips weren't available, they could use dead-letter  drops

or, with precautions, simple comm units.

There  were three possible reasons why the two Yuuzhan

Vong were meeting face to face.

They could be stupid.

They could be overconfident.

Or,  third, something was happening that was  of  such

overwhelming importance that the Yuuzhan Vong were forced to

throw  all  caution to the winds and conduct  the  operation

together.

Mara knew which way she wanted to bet.

The  Yuuzhan  Vong  had opened the  cockpit  of  their

submersible  and were descending into it. Mara  returned  to

the Quarren at the desk.

"Are  you  sure  you don't have any  submersibles  for

rent?" she asked, and made a gesture with one hand.

"Yes,"  the  Quarren said. "We have  submersibles  for

rent,"

"I want a fast one, and I need it immediately."

The Quarren reached beneath the desk and produced a set

of keys. "Berth Five-B, ma'am," it said.

"Thanks," Mara said, snatching the keys.

The  face-tentacles  waved  good-bye.  "Have  a  nice

voyage."

The  Yuuzhan Vong were swinging their cockpit  closed.

Mara tried to avoid a dead run as she headed for Berth 5B.

Her  submersible  was a slim sport model  whose  sleek

lines showed the customary Mon Calamari attention to elegant

design.  The transparent cockpit seated two passengers,  one

behind  the  other, and the deep green paint job featured  a

scalloped pattern that suggested fish scales.

Mara cast off the two mooring lines, then put a foot on

the  submersible and felt it bob under her. She  keyed   the

lock,  and  the bubble canopy rolled aside with a  hydraulic

hiss.  Mara vaulted easily into the pilot's seat  and  found

the  main  power  switch. She pressed it and the  instrument

panel came to life.

The instrument panel was simple compared to that found

in a starfighter. Mara pulled away a drape of her cloak that

had  caught on the cockpit coaming, then closed the  canopy.

Canopy  locks  clamped  down to  make  the  sub  watertight.

Ventilators whirred as they automatically switched on.  Mara

engaged   the  engine, and water jets hissed as Mara  backed

out of the slip.

The  Yuuzhan  Vong craft, she saw, was already  moving

through  the  seaward entrance of  the marina and  into  the

open  sea.  Mara  kicked  the rudder over  and  accelerated,

shaving  the  stern of the nearest vessel by millimeters  as

she set out in pursuit.

She zigzagged around the piers and dashed through  the

exit  to  see  the  first ocean wave break over  the  Vong's

canopy  as  it  began  to descend. Mara  steered  after  the

vanishing  craft and looked for the ballast  tank  controls.

Air sputtered from vents as she began her descent.

Piloting the submersible, she found, was like flying a

starfighter, but in slow motion. It rolled and  banked  like

any  atmosphere craft, and like any atmosphere craft it flew

better when it was in trim, the ballast tanks filled equally

tore  and  aft, which meant she didn't have to be constantly

fighting  the  dive  planes to keep the boat  at  the  right

depth.

Visibility was quite good, but "good" visibility in the

water only extended a hundred meters or so. fortunately, her

displays kept her informed of other craft in the water.

Radio-based  detection systems  were  useless  in  the

water,  so  submersibles featured a system based  on  sound.

Rather  than having every underwater craft pinging away  all

the time and confusing each other's sensors with overlapping

noise,  Heurkea  Floating City itself  issued  regular  low-

frequency sonar pulses that highlighted every craft  in  the

vicinity  for thirty kilometers or more. In order to  detect

the vessels around them, all  the submersibles had to do was

set  their  own sonar sets to passively receive  the  city's

pulses.

Mara had no trouble following her target and doing  it

without  calling attention to herself, though she did  speed

up  at one point in order to make certain that the craft she

was  following was the right one. She crept up on  its  tail

until  she  recognized the configuration of the cabin,  then

allowed  her boat to drift back. Compared to her  own,   the

Yuuzhan Vong boat was a squat, broad, roomy vessel, with its

two  passengers  sitting abreast of  one  another,  and  she

reckoned  her own tube-shaped craft was much speedier.  This

and  the usefulness of Heurkea's city sonar allowed  her  to

keep her distance from the Yuuzhan Vong vessel, even to join

other  traffic patterns in order to make it less obvious  to

the Vong they were being followed.

The  target  vessel plodded on at a deliberate  speed,

descending  to thirty-five meters and circling the  floating

city  until it was almost directly opposite the marina  from

which it had started. At this depth all color faded away  to

blue  or gray, except for the occasional silver flash  of  a

predator fish darting at the smaller fish attracted  by  the

brightly  lit windows of the residential areas.  Below,  the

sea  was  a  profound deep blue that seemed to stretch  down

forever, an azure vastness that seemed as limitless as empty

space.

The  Yuuzhan Vong boat checked its speed and began  to

hover. Mara slowed her own vessel, uncertain what she  could

do  without  giving  herself away. If  she  began  to  hover

herself, it might make the Yuuzhan Vong suspicious,  but  so

might tracking back and forth in their vicinity.

Instead, she decided to pass within visual range of the

target  and see if she could make any sense of its  actions.

She  dipped   the dive planes to pass under the Vong  craft,

and  set   the  throttle to a slow rate  of  speed  to  give

herself  as much time in visual range as possible. Then  she

almost jumped out of her skin as she passed in front of  one

of the city's sonar emitters and felt the deep low-frequency

rumble  as it shivered along her bones and caused her boat's

small metal fittings to rattle.

The  squat  form of the target submersible loomed  up,

silhouetted against the bright blue and silver of the  ocean

surface  thirty-five meters above. The  Vong  boat  had  its

stern  to the open ocean, its bow toward the floating  city,

and  it was simply hovering in place. Mara peered up at  the

boat,  unable  to  see  much  of  anything  along  its  dark

underside-but  then through the perfect acoustic  medium  of

the  water she heard the hum of an electric motor, and  with

it a brief scraping. The sounds repeated themselves.

This time, as she gazed up at the Yuuzhan Vong vessel,

she  caught a brief movement from the bows, a kind of dimple

that  appeared on its port bow, to match an identical dimple

on  the starboard side. And then her blood froze with horror

at the realization of what she had just seen.

The  Vong boat had opened a pair of torpedo tubes.  It

was about to open fire on Heurkea Floating City.

But why? she thought. Heurkea was colossal: a pair  of

torpedoes couldn't possibly sink it. Mara's head cranked  to

port,  staring in consternation at the face of the city,  at

the  series  of clear windows that gave out onto  the  ocean

deep,  and there, silhouetted, she saw her answer: the tall,

shaggy form of a Wookiee.

Triebakk.

Triebakk,  gazing  out of the sweating  transparisteel

wall  of  Cal  Omas's  apartment. Cal, the  Chief  of  State

candidate  most  likely  to carry on  the  war  against  the

Yuuzhan Vong. And Triebakk was soon joined by another, lanky

figure that Mara recognized at once.

Cal Omas.

Cal  and  Triebakk continued to stand by the viewport.

Mara  realized  they were holding drinks. Perhaps  they  had

something to celebrate.

The Yuuzhan Vong boat swam into view dead ahead. Mara's

boat  had  no weapons, no torpedoes of her own, but  on  the

other  hand her craft was a weapon. It weighed a metric  ton

or  more,  and it was moving fast, and if she couldn't  sink

her  enemy by ramming, she might be able to disable it. Mara

rolled  her  sub more or less upright and fed power  to  the

water  jets  as  she aimed her vessel at the  enemy  canopy,

descending  on  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  craft  from  above   its

starboard  quarter. If she could smash in  the  canopy,  the

enemy  would  probably be killed outright, and at  any  rate

would drown.

"Pull  up! Pull up! Collision alert! Pull up!"  Mara's

nerves jumped as a roaring voice filled the cockpit, and her

vessel's  passive sonar went active with a series  of  high-

pitched  warning screeches aimed at alerting her  target  to

its danger. The controls bucked in her hands as an autopilot

seized  control  of  the  vessel.  Grimly  she  fought   the

controls as she tried to keep her craft aimed at the  enemy,

while her eyes scanned the controls for a switch to turn off

the autopilot.

"Pull up! Collision alert! Pull up!"

Things  happened  too  fast for  Mara  to  locate  the

autopilot  override. There was an impact,  then  a  scraping

sound  as  her submersible rolled over the enemy craft.  Her

boat  slewed  violently to port as her aft port  dive  plane

caught on the Vong's dorsal rudder. Locked together, the two

subs  whirled around each other, then parted with a grinding

shudder.  Mara looked over her shoulder to sec the Vong  sub

inverted  and pitched nose-down, cavitation bubbles spraying

from  its  jets  as  it tried to right itself.  One  of  the

Yuuzhan  Vong,  thrown  against the canopy  by  the  impact,

glared  at  her  with his false human face  distorted  by  a

furious rage.

Mara sensed that Cal Omas and Triebakk weren't running

away; they were peering out the viewport trying to make  out

what  had  just happened in the deep, distant  blue  of  the

water. Then the enemy faded into the darkness as Mara's boat

sped away.

Mara  fought the controls to pull her boat around  for

another  pass.  Her  port dive plane had deformed  with  the

impact; she could hear the hiss and squelch of water  as  it

passed  roughly  over the distorted surface,  and  feel  the

sideways slewing motion that the distortion imparted to  her

craft.

Then suddenly she heard a whoosh and a frantic pinging,

and  her nerves keened with the knowledge that the Vong  had

just  fired a torpedo. Her Force-sense told her that it  was

aimed  at her, not at Cal Omas-she could sense the  mass  of

the  torpedo  as it neared, and hear the increasingly  fast,

Doppler-shifted  chirps  of its  active  sonar  as  it  sped

closer.

Mara yanked the craft to port, hoping that the drag of

the  distorted port dive plane would assist her in making  a

tight  turn. At the same time she pushed out with the Force,

trying to shove a stream of water at the torpedo to push  it

off to the right.

The  torpedo  sizzled past Mara less than  two  meters

beyond the sub's starboard dive plane, and Mara felt herself

brace  against  the power of the explosion that  would  come

with  the  detonation of a proximity fuse. But  the  torpedo

must  have  had a contact fuse that ignited only on  impact,

because  the  underwater missile sped on, its frantic  sonar

pings Dopplering lower in pitch as it raced away.

Mara  gazed  at her displays and discovered  the  Vong

craft  lumbering in a turn, trying to bring its  second  and

last  weapon  to bear on Cal Omas. Mara fought  the  damaged

dive  plane,  lifted the sub's nose, and  straightened  once

she'd  gained five meters of altitude above the enemy  boat.

She could see no way to disable the autopilot that would try

to  interfere  with her ramming maneuver- either  it  wasn't

possible,  or it required codes she didn't have.  She  would

have  to  anticipate the autopilot's taking over this  time,

and  take  its  interference into account as  she  held  her

course against the enemy.

As  she pushed the throttles forward she realized that

the fast pinging behind her had shifted, then began to pitch

higher  in  volume. The torpedo had turned  around  and  was

coming at her again.

The Vong craft loomed ahead, still turning to bring its

torpedo to bear on the floating city. The pings behind  Mara

grew  more  frequent  and higher in pitch.  She  pushed  her

throttle  to  maximum speed and dived down  onto  the  enemy

boat, water hissing through her jets.

"Dive!  Collision alert! Dive! Collision alert!"  This

time  the autopilot was trying to pitch her downward to  let

her  craft  slip below the enemy. She fought  the  controls,

trying to keep her machine on target.

"Dive! Dive!"

The pinging from astern beat faster than Mara's heart.

Mara  felt  her  sub  shudder at the contradictory  commands

given the control surfaces, sensed the mass and speed of the

torpedo  approaching. And then she took her  hands  off  the

controls and let the autopilot take over.

The  damaged dive plane screwed the sub around to port

as  it  dived beneath the swollen shadow of the enemy craft.

Mara saw the looming shadow of the Yuuzhan Vong sub's rudder

dead  ahead,  cutting toward her cockpit like a huge  knife,

but  the drag from the damaged dive plane pulled her out  of

the  way with millimeters to spare. The torpedo was so close

that Mara could hear its hiss as it shot through the water.

And  then the torpedo hit the Yuuzhan Vong craft  dead

astern as Mara's boat slid beneath, and a great watery  hand

took  Mara's sub and flung it spinning through the sea.  Her

hands  and  feet  worked   the  controls  as  she  tried  to

stabilize  her craft, as she tried to gain her  bearings  in

the giant white boil of the explosion.

Mara managed finally to bring her craft to a hover. She

was  hanging  upside down in the cockpit, one  of  her  legs

clamped  hard  on  her seat and the other braced  under  the

instrument  panel. With careful squirts of  her  maneuvering

jets, she managed to roll her sub upright.

To  one  side,  she  could see  the  wreckage  of  the

shattered  Yuuzhan Vong craft spin downward  into  the  blue

depths  below. The great mass of the floating city,  on  her

other  side, seemed intact. Triebakk and Cal were gone  from

the  viewport, and through the roiling sea she could  barely

make out the apartment's front door, ajar-the two had fled.

Finally figured out what those fast pings meant.,  eh?

she thought.

Well. Better late than never.

Luke, alerted once Mara got to the surface, stashed Cal

Omas  in their own apartment, which, with Jacen still there,

was  getting a little crowded, but was at least above  water

and  in  a  part  of  the city with better  security.  Lando

shipped down a pair of YVH droids for safety's sake-and, out

of  the  presumed  goodness of his heart,  offered  security

droids to the other candidates as well.

Ayddar Nylykerka managed to get Mara out of the trouble

she was in for stealing a submersible and getting it damaged

during the course of an underwater dogfight.

Mara arrived at her apartment late in  the evening  to

discover why Cal Omas and Triebakk had been celebrating.  On

a  vote held earlier that day, Cal had jumped into the  lead

with  46 percent, followed by Fyor Rodan with 24 and Ta'laam

Ranth  with 20. Pwoe had actually gained a vote, for a total

of four.

"Suddenly Ta'laam's twenty percent isn't worth as much

to  him," Cal told Mara. "I don't have to promise him  much,

because his supporters are going to defect in droves in  the

hope  that I'll be grateful later." He looked puzzled. "What

I  can't  work  out is how Fyor's supporters turned  out  so

wobbly."  He  glanced at Luke. "You didn't  somehow  arrange

this, did you?"

"No," Luke said.

Cal  grinned. "I didn't think Jedi mind control worked

as  well  as  that.  I  guess Fyor's  supporters  found  out

something  about him that might be embarrassing  if  it  got

out, and decided to jump ship while they could."

"I  didn't arrange it," Luke said, "but I think I know

who  did." Mara gave him a sharp look. I'm not the only  one

who's been having adventures, she thought.

Cal's grin faded. "Should I know about this?" he asked.

"Absolutely not," Luke said. "But I wouldn't count  on

Fyor's  defectors  for anything more than getting  you  into

office.  My  guess is they're good for one vote only.  If  I

were  you, I'd court Ta'laam Ranth and as many of his people

as you can, because you're going to need them later."

Cal  rubbed his chin. "I'm not going to ask  any  more

questions."

"You're an intelligent man," Luke said. "You'll work it

out without my help."

By that point Mara had worked it out herself.

The  next day Ta'laam Ranth released his followers  to

vote  for  Cal  Omas,  and Cal was elected  with  almost  85

percent  of the vote. Fyor Rodan and a few diehards  refused

to  make the vote unanimous, and three loyalists still voted

for  Pwoe.  Cal  moved  off Mara's sofa  and  to  the  suite

reserved  for  the  new Chief of State at Heurkea's  poshest

hotel, where he was ably guarded by a platoon of YVH droids.

He began working on the acceptance speech he would have

to  give  the Senate the next day. But before he  began,  he

signed the order creating the new Jedi Council, with Luke at

its head.

Chapter 18

Your  candidate  has been elected," Vergere  said  over

breakfast.

"Yes," Luke answered.

"Congratulations."

Luke  looked  toward  Mara,  who  was  busy  with  the

apartment's comm unit. "It was more Mara's doing than  mine.

She  kept  Cal  alive  long enough to  give  his  acceptance

speech."

"Still," Vergere said, "you played a public role in his

campaign "

"True."

"You  realize that you and the Jedi will have  to  pay

later for this political involvement."

Luke nodded. "I know."

"Just so you are prepared."

Luke  tasted  his glass of blue milk  with  a  wistful

yearning  for  the fresh, more richly flavored variety  he'd

enjoyed  on his uncle Owen Lars's moisture farm.  Mara  rose

from  the comm unit, came to the table, and laid out several

holos  that  had  been  transmitted  from  the  hidden  Jedi

installation in the Maw.

"New images of Ben!"

Luke  gazed  at  the holos with his usual  mixture  of

delight  and longing. Infants developed so rapidly at  Ben's

age  that  Luke could plainly see how the boy had grown  and

changed in the short time since he'd been sent to safety  in

the  Maw.  He  was  walking now, with  greater  and  greater

confidence. He was speaking, too, though at the  moment  his

vocabulary seemed to consist mainly of the word knee.

At  such  moments  Luke's  misery  at  Ben's  absence

outweighed  his  thankfulness that Ben was  in  a  place  of

safety.

Luke  and Mara showed the holos to Vergere, who looked

at  them with quizzical eyes. "A handsome human child,"  she

said. "As best as I understand these things."

"And  strong  in the Force," Mara said.  "That's  been

clear from the beginning."

Vergere's  crest  sleeked  back.  "Perhaps  that   is

misfortune," she said.

Luke stared at her in surprise. "Vergere?" he said.

"You  permit Jedi to many," Vergere said. "And  permit

not  only  marriage,  but children. By  your  example,  Luke

Skywalker."

Luke tried to contain his surprise. "In your day,"  he

said, "Jedi were chosen as infants. They were raised knowing

they  wouldn't  marry. But I had to recruit  Jedi  who  were

already grown-who had already established relationships."

"It  is  very dangerous," Vergere said. "What if  Jedi

were forced to choose between their duty and their family?"

Luke  had  made  that choice more than  once  and  was

comfortable with the necessity. "Family makes a Jedi more of

a whole person," he said.

"It makes them less than Jedi!" Vergere said. Her head

swung  toward  Mara on the end of its long neck.  "And  your

child is strong in the Force-that is worse!"

Mara's green eyes glittered dangerously. "And  how  is

that, Vergere?" she asked.

"Your  Ben is heir to more than your husband's name-he

is   Darth   Vader's  grandchild,"  Vergere   said.   "Three

generations now of Skywalkers, all strong in the Force! This

is a Jedi dynasty!"

Vergere's head swung back toward Luke. "Can't you  see

how  governments  will view this as a  threat?  Once  it  is

possible  for  Jedi to leave their power to their  children,

the balance that exists between government and Jedi falls."

Luke  held  up  one of the holos of Ben.  "This  is  a

threat? In a universe with the Yuuzhan Vong in it?"

Vergere's  crest sleeked back again, and  she  made  a

hissing  noise that raised the hairs on the back  of  Luke's

neck.  He  almost wanted to snatch the holo of Ben from  the

danger.

The  door  chime  sounded.  Through  a  gentle  Force

projection  coming from the other side Luke  knew  that  the

visitor  was  Cilghal, come to collect Vergere  for  another

healing  tutorial.  When Vergere wasn't being  debriefed  by

Fleet  Intelligence-a  process still  ongoing-she  had  been

perfectly  amenable to spending time with Cilghal,  teaching

the  Mon  Calamari healer the art of making  herself  small.

Perhaps  Cilghal, too, would learn to heal with  her  tears,

and then the two could pass the knowledge on to others.

At  the  sound of the chime, Vergere gazed stonily  at

Luke  for a moment, then hopped off her chair. "I must  go,"

she said. "But I beg you, young Master, to think of this."

She padded to the door and let herself out.

Luke looked at Mara. "What do we think?" he asked.

Mara  reached for a knife. She began cutting up  dried

bofa  fruit  and adding it to a dried, crunchy form  of  Mon

Calamari seaweed eaten by the locals.

"Maybe   she's   embittered  over  fifty   years   of

loneliness," Mara said, "but I call that an overreaction."

"Yes."

"Vergere is too smart. Too perceptive. Too enigmatic."

Her green eyes flashed. "Too willing to torture young humans

to  get  what she wants. I don't want her ever to  get  near

Ben."

"Agreed," Luke said. "I've checked the Jedi  Holocron.

There  was  a Jedi named Vergere fifty years ago,  a  former

apprentice of a Master Thracia Cho Leem."

Mara's  knife made neat little paring motions.  "There

would be, wouldn't there? If she was an infiltrator."

"It's awfully roundabout to infiltrate the Jedi by way

of the Yuuzhan Vong."

Mara  put  down her knife. "Maybe she was a Jedi.  The

question  is, after fifty years with the Vong, what  is  she

won??"

Luke had no answer. "She doesn't feel dark," he said.

"She   doesn't   feel  anything.  She's   practically

invisible. We only sense what she wants us to sense."

"Are you going to play spy today?"

"Nylykerka can handle the enemy networks  on  his  own

today if you have another idea. Do you?"

"I have a Jedi Council to put together," Luke said. "I

thought you might help me."

Mara  smiled. "We get to spend the day gossiping about

our colleagues and calling it work? I'm willing."

He  leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I knew I  could

count on you," he said.

Ruined. Ruined.

Warmaster  Tsavong  Lah gazed in  revulsion  over  the

Square  of Sacrifice, where the great formations of  Yuuzhan

Vong,  each  in formal robes, had been assembled to  witness

the painful, extended death of more than a hundred captives,

all  for  the glory of Yun-Yuuzhan, whose great  temple  was

being dedicated on this day.

Many  of  the  captives were of  high  rank,  military

officers or Senators captured in the battle for Yuuzhan'tar.

Their  lives  had  been carefully preserved  just  for  this

moment. They had been strapped to their execution beds,  and

the  priests  stood by with their flesh-eating beetles,  and

their  flaying knives. The symphony of the captives' screams

would have risen for many hours to the delighted ears of the

god.

But  instead  it  was ruined. While  Supreme  Overlord

Shimrra stood on the steps of the temple, the high priest of

Yun-Yuuzhan  had  gone  into his  extended  blessing,  hands

raised  over the thousands assembled to watch the work.  And

then  a  pestilential odor swept over the assembly, and  the

squares  of  formed Yuuzhan Vong began to eddy as  something

crept among them.

The  square  was  being flooded by a  noxious  liquid,

something  spewed  up from beneath ground  level.  The  muck

spread  through  the  crowd,  but  the  Yuuzhan  Vong   were

disciplined,  and remained in their ranks, plucking  up  the

hems of their cloaks to keep them out of the ooze.

The  rank  fluid was composed of every kind of  waste.

Below  ground  level  lived the maw luur  who  digested  the

sewage   produced  by  the  growing  city,  but   apparently

something had upset their omnivorous stomachs, and they were

regurgitating onto the square.

The  high priest's voice hesitated, resumed, hesitated

again. He wheezed as a gust of wind brought a wave of stench

to  his  nostrils.  The  high priest managed  to  renew  his

prayers, but Shimrra's booming voice cut him short.

"The sacrifice is spoiled! Dismiss the onlookers,  and

kill the captives!"

The  high  priest turned to face the Supreme Overlord.

"Are you certain, Dread One?"

Shimrra  gave a savage laugh. "Unless you  think  that

sewage is deep enough to drown our victims in."

The high priest looked out over the flooded square. "I

don't believe so, Supreme One."

"Then order your people to kill  the captives." Shimrra

turned  on his heel to enter the temple. "The rest  of  you,

follow me."

Tsavong  Lah  followed his Overlord into the  shadowed

green-and-purple depths of the temple, where the air smelled

properly  of heavy organics. Shimrra seemed more  thoughtful

than angry, which Tsavong Lah thought was not a good sign-it

might  mean  the  rage  would burst out  later,  and  in  an

unpredictable  direction.  At least  the  Dread  One  wasn't

accompanied today by his shadow Onimi, as the presence of  a

Shamed  One  at a sacrifice this grand would  have  been  an

insult to  the gods.

"Another  failure," Shimrra growled.  "Another  public

failure,  witnessed again by thousands of our people-and  by

our chief god."

"Treachery, Supreme One!" someone called. "Sabotage by

this so-called underground!"

"Or  by heretics!" said a priest, loyal to his  leader

Jakan,

"I  have six remaining voxyn, Dread Lord," Tsavong Lah

said.  "Let me take one or two out, and if there are  Jeedai

involved in this business, the voxyn will find them and tear

them!"

Shimrra looked left and right. His burning eyes turned

yellow,  then  red as they settled on Nom  Anor.  "You  have

received no reports of underground activity?" he demanded.

Tsavong  Lah rejoiced at Shimrra turning to  Nom  Anor

with  this  question. After Nom Anor's attempt to brand  him

with  the catastrophe of Vergere, any discomfort in Nom Anor

could only be to Tsavong Lah's delight.

"No reports, Supreme One," Nom Anor said.

Nom  Anor  almost wilted beneath the fierce  glare  of

Shimrra's  mqaaq'it  implants. But Shimrra  again  chose  to

withhold  his  anger,  and  his  savage  look  again  turned

thoughtful.

"We know the World Brain has been contaminated by that

fool  Ch'Gang  Hool," Shimrra said. "Could this  be  another

manifestation of the shapers' incompetence?"

No   one  dared  to  either  confirm  or  deny   this

supposition.  "It's  almost  as  if  the  World  Brain   has

developed a nasty sense of humor,"

Shimrra  said  thoughtfully.  "Onimi  won't  care  for

that-he  much prefers being the only one permitted  to  make

jokes."

No one commented on that, either.

The  Supreme Overlord turned to one of his assistants.

"Find a shaper to die for this."

"I will, Supreme One."

Nom  Anor  seemed to sag with relief once he  realized

that  the  shaper class was going to get the blame  for  the

botched  sacrifice. Tsavong Lah snarled at him.  Next  time,

filth, he thought.

Shimrra's glowing, restless eyes swept again over  the

company,   then  settled  on  Tsavong  Lah.  The   warmaster

straightened,  then bowed from the waist, keeping  his  back

rigid.

"Dread Lord?" he said.

"Your forces eliminated an enemy cruiser at small cost

to  themselves.  Vengeance for Komm Karsh,  though  a  small

one."

Tsavong  Lah  took a grip on his courage.  "With  your

permission,  Supreme One, I will exact  vengeance  in  full.

Give me permission to take the fleet and-"

"No, Warmaster."

"Give  me  a  decisive battle, Supreme  One!  Let  the

infidels'  blood  fill the spaces between  the  stars!"  The

words sprayed from the warmaster's slashed lips.

"Be silent!"

Tsavong  Lah  threw himself to the ground  before  the

Supreme Overlord's feet. "I obey," he said.

There was a moment of awful emptiness in which Tsavong

Lah contemplated his own immediate death.

Then  the  silence was broken by an unexpected  voice.

"With respect, Supreme One," Nom Anor said, "I agree that  a

decisive battle must be fought, and soon."

Astonishment  filled  Tsavong  Lah's  soul,  followed

immediately by suspicion. Nom Anor couldn't be agreeing with

Tsavong Lah out of sympathy for his position. This had to be

some  plot, some devious scheme by the executor to discredit

him.

To  Tsavong  Lah's  surprise, Shimrra  restrained  his

anger. "Your reasons, Executor?" he asked.

"We aren't growing any stronger, Supreme One," Nom Anor

said. "As soon as our auxiliaries are in place and the fleet

is  at full strength, we must seek to bring about a decisive

engagement that will win the war."

Mockery entered Shimrra's tones. "I thought the Battle

of  Yuuzhan'tar was supposed to be 'the decisive  engagement

that would win the war.' "

Nom  Anor  hesitated. "The infidels have  proved  more

adaptable than we suspected."

Tsavong  Lah  stepped  in.  "We  shouldn't  waste  our

strength on an offensive for its own sake. If we choose  the

right  moment, however, the right target ... if we can catch

their  forces  at  a disadvantage, then we  can  smash  them

beyond recovery."

The mockery continued. "How can we choose such a time,

such a target?"

"We must depend on accurate intelligence of the enemy,

Supreme One," Nom Anor said.

Shimrra laughed. "On you, then. All hail Nom Anor! This

victory depends on you, who has just lost a pair of valuable

agents in a bungled assassination."

Nom  Anor  wisely chose not to rise to  the  mocker)'.

"Assassination  is  always a risky  business,  Supreme  One.

Agents  may be risked in this way, but no chances should  be

taken with the fleet."

"Very well then." Shimrra hesitated. "Rise, Warmaster."

Tsavong  Lah got to his feet, his clawed  vua'sa  foot

scrabbling  for traction on the chitinous temple  floor.  He

looked at Nom Anor and tried to mask his resentment.

Shimrra looked from one to the other. "Warmaster,  you

will  have  your decisive battle, after the fleet is  ready.

But  you  will not launch the battle blindly; you will  wait

for  Norn Anor's spies to report that the time is ripe.  And

my own permission will be required. Do you understand?"

"Completely,  Supreme  One."  Tsavong  Lah  bowed  in

submission.

A  smile twisted across Shimrra's features. "It  seems

that  the two of you are bound together once again. The fate

of  one  will depend entirely on  the fate of the other.  If

success comes to one, it will come to both. But if one fails

. . ." He left the thought unfinished.

Tsavong  Lah straightened and looked at the  executor,

who  he  found looking back at him. Tsavong Lah let a  smile

spread across his slashed lips.

At least if I fall, he thought at him, I may rejoice in

the thought that you will not long survive me.

Though  it was not comfortable to think that Nom  Anor

was probably thinking the very same thing.

"I want Cilghal," Luke said. "I want a healer. The fact

that she's an ambassador is a bonus."

He  and Mara were in their apartment, trying to choose

five Jedi to serve with Luke on the new Jedi Council. In the

background,  a  live  holo  of  Cal  Omas  was  giving   his

acceptance speech before the Senate.

"With sorrow for our countless dead, but with hope for

the  future," Cal was saying. "With sadness for the many who

have  fallen, but with confidence in the many who have taken

their place ..."

"Cilghal," Mara said. "Very well."

Luke looked at her. "Who I really want," he said,  "is

you."

Mara's  green eyes sparkled. "I'm always flattered  to

hear that."

"For the council, I mean," Luke said, "as of course in

every other way. But a Jedi Master can't appoint his wife to

government jobs without people disapproving."

"You'll get my advice anyway," Mara said. "You won't be

able  to  avoid it." She looked at the list they'd compiled.

"Who's next?"

"How about Kenth Hamner? He has the contacts, and  the

knowledge."

Mara  nodded,  and entered the name  on  her  datapad.

"Hamner's in, then." She looked up. "Kam Solusar? Or Tionne?

It  would  be  good  to have someone representing  the  Jedi

academy."

"Put them down as maybes. If we weren't at war, I'd put

one of them on the council for certain, but right now we may

need a council oriented more toward action."

"Then why Cilghal?"

Luke looked at her. "Healing is important."

Mara held his gaze, then nodded. "Of course."

"Saba Sebatyne. She commands an all-Jedi squadron, and

brings all the Barabels on board. She's proved herself  many

times over, and it's time she had a higher profile."

Saba  hadn't been trained at the Jedi academy, but  on

Barab  I  by  the  Jedi  Master Eelysa.  Saba  in  turn  had

recruited  and trained a whole pack of her fellow  Barabels,

most of whom formed her Wild Knights Squadron.

"You've thought about this pretty thoroughly,  haven't

you?" Mara said.

"I do my best."

She  gave  a  sly smile. "Maybe Cal is  right-you  are

turning into a politician."

Luke affected horror and made a warding gesture.

Mara  laughed. "My only objection is that  Saba  is  a

Knight," she said, "not a Master."

"Knights  should  have  some  representation  on  the

council, too."

Mara looked at her datapad.  "Saba's representing a lot

of people-Knights, Barabels, and an all-Jedi squadron."

"Then  it's  all the more important that  she  have  a

seat."

"With compassion for the millions of our dispossessed,"

Cal's  holo  was saying, "with firmness in the rightness  of

our cause . . ."

Mara shrugged and made a mark by Saba's name. "Streen?"

she suggested.

"A maybe. Tresina Lobi?"

"She'd be good."

From  the  holo came Cal's voice. "...  I  accept  the

Senate's  nomination  to  be  Chief  of  State  of  the  New

Republic." Roars followed, and applause.

"That was a good speech," Mara said.

"It  was." Luke glanced thoughtfully at the  holo  Cal

listening respectfully to the Senate's applause. "You  know,

I'm beginning to have a lot of sympathy for Cal. He's got to

fill  seats  not only on the Jedi Council, but  in  all  the

government departments as well."

"He  has more practice at this sort of thing  than  we

do."

"Let's hope so." Luke glanced at Mara's datapad and the

list  of  names. "Let's add one more. My most  controversial

nominee."

Mara turned her eyes to him in rising horror. "Not Kyp

Durron!"

Luke  returned  her gaze, then gave a deliberate  nod.

"For  what it's worth," he said, "I think that Kyp's actions

at  Hapes  and  Borleias show that he's a much  more  stable

person  than  he  was.  He seems to  have  made  peace  with

himself.  Remember, he renounced pride on Ithor,  and  since

then  he voluntarily put himself under Jaina's command. He's

always supported the idea of a Jedi Council."

"You're setting yourself up for a lot of grief."

"Wouldn't  it be more grievous to have a  Kyp  running

around  loose,  where the council can't control  him?"  Luke

said.  "Remember,  he's  only  one  vote.  If  he  takes  an

independent  line, he'll be outvoted by the rest,  and  then

he'll be obliged to support the majority."

"I  think you have a very generous idea of Kyp's sense

of  obligation.  Plus," Mara considered, "how  do  you  know

he'll be outvoted? There are going to be six non-Jedi on the

council now. What if Kyp's arguments make sense to them?"

"If  Kyp's  arguments  make  sense  to  half  a  dozen

political appointees, then I'd better pay more attention  to

those arguments than I have been."

Mara  gave him a skeptical look. "I think you're going

to regret this."

Luke shrugged. "I may. I probably will. But if a person

in authority talks only to those who agree with him, he soon

finds himself out of authority."

Mara sighed. "You are a politician," she said.

Luke presented Ms nominees for the Jedi Council to Cal

Omas  the  next  morning.  Cal leaned  back  in  his  office

chair-the  office  smelled of fresh  paint  and  newly  laid

carpet-looked at the list, and gave Luke a skeptical look.

"Kyp Durron?" he said.

"Kyp has changed," Luke said.

"He hasn't blown up any planets in a few years, that's

true."

"That  wasn't precisely Kyp who did that," Luke  said.

"He  was  possessed by the spirit of a long-dead  Sith  Lord

named Exar Kun."

Cal shook his head, and when he spoke his voice had  a

mournful  air.  "That's exactly the sort of  tiling  I  hope

never  to  have  to explain to a Senatorial  committee,"  he

said.

Luke looked at Cal in concern. "Should I withdraw  the

nomination?   I   don't  want  to  wreck  our   chances   of

reestablishing the Jedi Council."

Cal considered, then shook his head. "No," he said. "I

understand  why you did it. It's best to have the opposition

inside  the tent, where you can keep an eye on them.  That's

why  I'm  putting  some of Fey'lya's  old  faction  on   the

Advisory Council. And Fyor Rodan, if he'll agree." He looked

at Luke. "And you."

Surprise rose in Luke. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Don't

you think Leia would be better?"

"Maybe.  But  Leia hasn't returned from  Bastion,  and

you're here."

Luke  smiled. "You're going to keep me so busy running

to  meetings  that I'm not going to have time  for  anything

else."

"Would that be a bad thing?" Cal asked. "Docs the head

of  the  Jedi  order need to be blowing up Death  Stars  and

engaging in lightsaber fights at his age?"

Luke smiled. "I haven't blown up a Death Star in ages."

"That's what your young folks are for," Cal said.  "If

you put me back in a starfighter, I'd feel like an idiot,"

"I doubt that very much," Luke said.

"Maybe  I  exaggerate."  Cal smiled.  "I'm  appointing

myself to the Jedi Council, by the way."

"I had hoped you would."

"And Triebakk, as Senatorial representative-the Senate

will need to confirm that, but I don't think we'll have  any

trouble. Dif Scaur, the chief of Intelligence. Someone  from

the  Justice Council- I haven't worked out just who as  yet.

Releqy A'Kla, who will also head the Ministry of State."

"Her uncle was a Jedi."

"I know."

"You  don't  have  any of Fey'lya's  people.  Or  Fyor

Rodan's."

"I  know."  Cal smiled. "They'll have to be  satisfied

with seats on the Advisory Council, won't they?"

"You haven't mentioned the sixth."

"Sien  Sow,  as  head  of  the  military."  He  looked

troubled.  "If  I decide to retain him. He  offered  me  his

resignation practically the second I finished my  acceptance

speech."

Luke  gave  Cal a serious look. "You need to  call  on

Ackbar."

Cal looked curious. "To be Supreme Commander?"

"No, but you need to talk to him. He has a plan to deal

with  the Yuuzhan Vong."

"I'll talk to him."

"Very  soon, Cal," Luke warned. "You know how good  he

is."

Cal nodded again. "Fine. Soon."

The voice of Cal's comm droid came from the speakers on

his desk. "Senator Rodan is here for his appointment."

Cal rose. "I shouldn't keep Fyor waiting."

He escorted Luke to the door, allowing the Jedi Master

to precede him into the outer office.

Fyor Rodan stood there, wearing a stainless gray  suit

and  a  cold demeanor. Luke gave him a polite nod, but Rodan

only returned a glare.

"I  see you have the compliant Chief of State required

by your plans," he said.

"I  don't  believe you ever asked me my  plans,"  Luke

said. "You only assumed you knew them."

"You  interfered," Rodan said. "You and your wife  did

some-tiling to my supporters."

"We did nothing of  the sort," Luke said.

"Then it was your pirate friends. Do you deny that?"

"I deny that I have pirate friends," Luke said mildly.

"And I have no idea what my other friends may have done,  if

anything."

"Jedi virtue!" Rodan said. "You remain stainless, while

your  friends do the dirty work. I couldn't help but  notice

that  your friends' droids are guarding the Chief  of  State

whom they created."

"The  YVH  droids  in  the  corridor  belong  to  the

government," Cal Omas said. "You voted for the appropriation

yourself, Fyor."

Fyor  Rodan  turned his scornful eye  toward  Cal.  "I

thought you had more pride than to sell yourself to a  bunch

of  renegades and their witch-doctor accomplices!" he  said.

"I  refuse  to  have  anything to  do  with  supporting  the

illusion  that your government is anything but illegitimate.

I'll thank you to keep my name off any list of appointees."

He turned, stiff-spined, and marched out. Luke and Cal

looked at each other.

"Stickier than I thought," Cal said.

Chapter 19

Jacen  spent his first day of freedom in the apartment,

marveling at its strange solidity. The scratch of the carpet

against  his  bare feet, air that didn't taste like  a  rich

stew  of  organics, walls that were vertical and  a  ceiling

that  was  a  flat plane above his head. Holos  on  shelves.

Popular music that bounced its rhythms from hidden speakers.

A   kitchen   full  of  wondrous,  gleaming  appliances.   A

refrigeration  unit  full of food  designed  for  the  human

palate.

Furniture. The Yuuzhan Vong didn't have furniture  the

same way that people did. It wasn't crafted or assembled, it

was  sprouted.  And their sense of scale was different,  the

way  they  placed it in one of their rooms with its resinous

floors and walls of coral or stabilized protein.

Jacen  had  said farewell to furniture, to  holos  and

kitchen  equipment and refrigeration units and to everything

else that was human. Finding it again was a rediscovery.

Messages appeared on  the comm unit. WAY TO GO SPROUT.

And ONCE AGAIN, JACEN, YOU HAVE ANSWERED A MOTHER'S PRAYERS.

The messages gave him a singing joy that stayed with him for

the rest of the day.

That  evening his aunt Mara tactfully hinted  that  he

might buy some clothes, so the next morning he set off to do

some shopping. He borrowed some of Uncle Luke's clothes  and

threw  a  cloak  over everything, but people recognized  him

anyway. His face had been everywhere in the holocasts.  Many

were friendly, many curious, and only a few turned away with

angry  glares or muttered asides. The Jedi, it seemed,  were

more popular than they had been.

He  bought clothing from a Quarren tailor who  assured

him that the drape was perfect and in the mode, at least for

humans. Afterward he wandered the city, enjoying the elegant

architecture beneath the vivid blue sky, and tried to ignore

the  fact  that  wherever  he went  he  was  the  center  of

attention.

Later, from the apartment, he tried to contact Vergere,

but  was  told  she wasn't allowed calls. He spoke  to  Luke

about it, but Luke only said, "You're on vacation. And  that

includes being on vacation from Vergere."

Then  Luke invited Jacen to sit by him. "I'd  like  to

hear your ideas on the Yuuzhan Vong," he said.

"Vergere would be the one to ask," Jacen said.

"I  have  asked  her. But I'd like to ask  you.  Their

immunity  to the Force aside, arc the Yuuzhan Vong  so  very

different from us?"

Jacen   considered.  "No.  They  have  a   tyrannical

government,  and  their  religion is  absolute  poison.  But

they're  no better or worse than humans would be if we  were

raised in their system."

Luke looked at him. "Do you hate them?" he asked.

"No." Jacen's answer was swift and very certain.

"Why not?"

This  time  Jacen  had to think.  "Because,"  he  said

finally,  "it would be like hating a child for being  raised

badly.  It's  not  the child's fault, it's the  parents'.  I

could  hate the leaders who made the Yuuzhan Vong what  they

are, but they're long dead, so why waste energy in hatred?"

Luke  rose and put a hand on Jacen's shoulder.  "Thank

you, Jacen," he said.

"I ... understand them," Jacen said.

Luke  seemed startled, his mind inward.  "You  do  not

hate, because you understand," he murmured.

"Sorry?"

Luke's attention snapped back to Jacen. "No. Go on."

"I  was implanted with a slave seed, remember, and  it

interfaced with my nervous system. It was supposed to  be  a

one-way  communication link, to enslave me and  give  me  my

orders, but I discovered that it worked the other way.  It's

produced a kind of ... telepathy. I can extend my mind  into

the  Yuuzhan Vong and into their creatures, and sometimes  I

can influence them."

Luke  looked  at him in surprise. "You can  touch  the

Yuuzhan Vong with the Force?"

"No.  It's different. I can't use the Force and  my-my

'Vongsense' at the same time."

Luke's eyes narrowed in thought. "Can you teach this?"

Jacen had been wondering this himself. "I don't know,"

he  said. "I don't think so. I think perhaps you need to  be

implanted  with a slave seed, or some other form of  Yuuzhan

Vong control that can interface with your nervous system." A

thought struck him. "I might be able to teach Tahiri.  After

what  they  put her through, it's possible that she  .  .  .

might  still be attuned enough to the Yuuzhan Vong to  learn

to do as I've done."

Luke frowned. "Tahiri found her experience at the hands

of  the  Vong  to  be highly traumatic. And  she's-had  some

traumatic experiences since. I wouldn't want to force her to

revisit an experience that damaged her."

"Nor would I."

Jacen didn't tell Luke about one of the consequences of

what  he'd just called his "Vongsense"-the fact that he  was

still in occasional mental contact with the entity whom  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  called  the  World  Brain,  the  dhuryam  who

controlled the environment of Coruscant. He and the  dhuryam

were   conspiring   against   the   planet's   worldshaping,

sabotaging  it  in  minor  but annoying  ways:  through  the

creation of an itching plague, for instance. Jacen had  just

inspired  the  World Brain to cause a sickness  in  the  maw

luur,  the creatures who recycled Yuuzhan Vong waste, during

what  the  dhuryam  sensed  was  an  important  occasion  or

ceremony.

Though  Jacen  could theoretically inspire  the  World

Brain  to  more deadly action, from poisoning  Yuuzhan  Vong

food to causing an ecological catastrophe, he had refrained.

His  empathy with the Yuuzhan Vong had grown along with  his

Vongsense: he would not be a mass murderer, not  even  of  a

deadly enemy.

In  part,  that was why he hadn't told  Luke  of  this

particular  ability. He didn't want his  ability  known  for

fear  that  someone would want him to use it  as  a  weapon.

Though he realized that Luke would never ask such a thing of

him, he felt that the more private he kept this secret,  the

better.

The  conversation  with Luke was  interrupted  when  a

holojournalist commed, asking for an interview.  Jacen  told

the comm unit to refuse anyone it didn't already know was  a

friend.

The following morning Jacen felt delicate, ate a bland

breakfast,  and  returned  to  his  bed.  Luke  left  to  do

political things, and Mara went off to play counterspy  with

her  mouse  droids. He was awakened by a call on  the  comm,

which   meant   that  the  comm's  artificial   intelligence

recognized the caller as family or a friend.

He answered and stared into a pair of green eyes framed

by curling blond hair. Danni Quee.

"Hello, Danni."

"Jacen. I hope it's all right to call."

"I'm not sick or in quarantine or anything. I'm allowed

to talk to people."

"That's good. Would you like to see a bit of the city?

Or are you being besieged by friends?"

"I'm  not besieged by friends," Jacen said,  "I  guess

because they're as tactful as you are. But I'd just as  soon

not go anywhere public, because I seem to attract crowds."

She  grinned, teeth white against her tanned face.  "I

saw  you on  the holonews yesterday. Was that cloak supposed

to be a disguise?"

"Not exactly."

"If  you're not ready to face your public,  then,  why

don't I get a hovercraft and take you out to Mester Reef?"

"Sure."

Twenty minutes later, Jacen met Danni at a public pier.

"Nice clothes," she remarked, and gave him a hug. Soon  they

were  on a craft racing west on its repulsorlifts ten meters

above  the  water. Danni had provided diving  equipment  for

two, as well as a light lunch.

"Fast work," Jacen said.

"I was going to go anyway. If I hadn't reached you,  I

would have gone with another friend."

He looked at her. "Anyone I know?"

"Thespar    Trode.    She's    another    unemployed

astrophysicist."

"You're not employed these days?"

Danni gave a wry grin. "We'll talk about that later."

Mester  Reef  was  in  such tropical  waters  that  no

insulation  suits were necessary, but Jacen and  Danni  wore

them  anyway  to minimize abrasions. The air  supply  was  a

light unit worn on the back that silently extracted air from

the  water and fed it to the diver, and was limited only  by

its  power  supply,  which was good for about  fifty  years.

There  was  a  vest that could be inflated  or  deflated  to

adjust  for buoyancy, with pockets for weights to make  sure

the diver didn't pop back to the surface.

Danni  held  up  a  pair of swim fins.  "Old-fashioned

transportation," she said. "I could have brought some  drive

units to speed us along under the water, but I think they're

a  distraction-it's better if it's just you and the reef and

the ocean."

"Fine with me," Jacen said. "It's not like we're in  a

hurry to go anywhere."

The water was like a warm salt bath. Adjusting to  the

breathing apparatus felt natural and was easier than using a

pressure  suit.  The  inflatable  vest  was  a  little  more

difficult, and Jacen found himself sinking or bobbing toward

the  surface  until  he  managed to  equalize  his  buoyancy

properly.  Once he adjusted to the experience, he  found  he

could  think himself higher or lower-and he didn't need  the

Force for it either, just a kind of relaxation.

A  current ran along the reef here, and he  and  Danni

simply  drifted  along.  The  water  that  leaked  past  the

mouthpiece  tasted of salt and iodine and a thousand  living

things. Above was the rippled sunlight of the ocean surface;

to  one side the vivid colors of the reef; on the other side

the  boundless  ocean; and below the profound  blue  of  the

ocean deeps, clear and seeming to go down forever.

They  didn't dive below twenty meters or  so,  because

below that depth the light faded away badly, and they wanted

to  see  the brightness of  the coral. The coral formations,

the  anemones,  and the sponges were ablaze  with  brilliant

color,  and  the fish and other animals were as incandescent

as the coral through which they swam.

There were hierarchies here. The coral rose like great

ramparts  of  a  castle, occasionally  breaking  toward  the

surface in towers. Living things attached themselves to  the

coral, or sheltered inside its convolutions, or imitated the

coral  with  its  colors, its seeming  quiescence,  and  its

stinging spines. Reef fish hunted these, searching among the

coral  for  their dinners and sometimes being  engulfed  and

digested by a cunningly camouflaged predator, while torpedo-

shaped pelagic fish from  the deep water ate the reef  fish,

darting  in from the open ocean to strike, kill, and devour,

coming from a place far beyond the comprehension of the reef

fish, like pirates from another world.

And  everything on the reef was alive! The coral,  the

sponges,  the  fish, the crustaceans, and anemones-all  were

living  things.  Even the seemingly empty ocean  was  filled

with microscopic life. That was the true wonder of it. Jacen

summoned his Force-sense and let the song of the reef  enter

him,  all  the tiny creatures living together in a  complex,

interconnected pattern, basking for a moment  in  the  sheer

glory of it.

This was such a glorious change from the Yuuzhan  Vong

environment.  There everything lived as well,  but  all  was

alien,  strange, and full of sinister purpose. It  was  like

living  in  a  void. Here, the reef and its life practically

shouted at him through the Force.

Jacen  extended his Force-sense toward Danni. She  was

Force-sensitive,  but  her training had  been  unsystematic,

scattered  into spare moments between battles and  obsessive

research. He sensed her startled surprise at the first touch

of  his  mind,  but she then relaxed, and he let  the  reefs

existence flow into her, the great vital accumulation of all

the tiny lives, and the two floated along the reef in silent

communion, absorbed in the reefs complexity and abundance.

Eventually  they  grew  chilled  even  through  their

insulation  suits, so he and Danni rose to the surface,  and

Danni  triggered  the  transponder  that  would  bring   her

hovercraft  flying toward them. It settled  into  the  water

five meters away and lowered its ladders so they could climb

aboard. They took off their dive suits and let the sun  warm

them  as  they  ate their lunch. And then, while  digesting,

they  simply  relaxed, stretched out side  by  side  on  the

foredeck.

"You said you weren't working?" Jacen asked.

"No. I was working for the Jedi until my unit began to

achieve   results,  and  then  we  were  co-opted   by   the

government. And then, after we reached a certain  stage,  we

were-well,  we weren't disbanded, but some of  my  team  was

taken  away. I'm taking some training in communications  and

infiltration,  so  that I can help set up Resistance  cells,

and then I'll get back in the war."

Jacen  rolled on his side to look at her. "But  you've

done such crucial work!" he said. "You discovered how to jam

the  yammosk  signal. That's the single  critical  discovery

that's  enabled our ships to survive battle with the Yuuzhan

Vong. Why would they disband your group now?"

She  turned  her  green eyes to his.  "Astrophysicists

aren't  important  for  war work," she  said.  "I  made  the

initial  discovery about how yammosks communicate, yes.  But

now  that  the discovery's been made, it isn't a theoretical

problem anymore, it's an engineering one. Now it's up to the

engineers to build jammers and spoofers and try to work  out

more   and   more   ingenious  ways   to   foul   up   enemy

communications.  All the theoretical work has  been  quietly

shunted  aside." She sighed. "I was working so hard and  for

so  long-nothing has ever been so thoroughly studied in such

a  short time as  the Yuuzhan Vong. What Cilghal and  I  did

alone  could  have  won  us half a  dozen  major  scientific

prizes. But our work is secret, so the prize committees will

never  find  out,  and as tar as anyone knows,  I'm  just  a

twenty-three-year-old stargazer without a job  and  with  no

hope of finding one." She stretched languidly and looked  at

the brilliant sky.

A  strange  look came onto her face, and she  sat  up,

crossing  her  legs and leaning toward Jacen. "Not  all  the

theoretical work has been pushed aside. Did I mention  that?

There's some still going on, and it's kind of strange."

Jacen blinked up at her. "Tell me."

"We  had some people in our group who were working  on

the  details  of  Yuuzhan  Vong  bioscience.  They  made   a

discovery, and right away were pulled away into a  new  unit

in the Intelligence division. They're working directly under

a group of Chiss, who report directly to Dif Scaur."

"Scaur's working with Chiss?" Jacen was surprised.

"They're all offplanet now. None of my messages to  my

friends  get  through,  I just get messages  saying  they're

temporarily oft" the HoloNet."

"All  at the proverbial secret laboratory off in  deep

space," Jacen muttered.

"And why the Chiss?"

"And   you  say  they're  working  on  Yuuzhan   Vong

bioscience."  Jacen pondered for a moment,  then  shook  his

head.  "The problem is, we don't know enough about the Chiss

to  know  why they'd be valuable. We don't even  know  where

their  home  planet is. Maybe their bioscience is  ahead  of

ours. Maybe they know something about the Yuuzhan Vong  that

we  don't.  Maybe their own weird metabolism gives  them  an

insight into what the Yuuzhan Vong can do."

"Weird metabolism?"

"They're blue. That's a clue right there."

Danni laughed.

Jacen  looked at her. "Do you know the nature  of  the

discovery the bioscientists made?"

She  nodded. "It had to do with Yuuzhan Vong genetics-

which are generally like ours, by the way."

Jacen blinked. "That's pretty odd, considering they're

from another galaxy."

"There's one bit of their genetics that isn't like us,"

Danni  said.  "There's  a  sequence  that  seems  completely

unique,  and  it's  common to all Yuuzhan Vong  life.  Yorik

coral,  yammosks,  plant life, the Yuuzhan Vong  themselves.

All of it."

"Is  that  what  makes us unable to see  diem  in  the

Force?"

Danni shrugged. "Maybe. The geneticists didn't know-or

anyway they didn't when I last saw them."

Silence fell. Jacen gave a reluctant grin. "We probably

shouldn't  even  be talking like this," he  said.  "Whatever

Scaur's doing with the Chiss, it's probably so deeply secret

and oft" the map that our speculations are going to both  be

wrong and get us in trouble."

"Even speculating here?"

"It  wouldn't surprise me if I'm under  some  kind  of

casual  observation," Jacen said. "I  just  came  back  from

weeks  of  imprisonment at the hands of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong.

Intelligence  can't  be sure I haven't switched  sides."  He

looked  up  at  the  sky and gave a wave.  "Say  hi  to  the

satellites!"

Danni  laughed  and waved at any invisible  observers,

then turned back to Jacen. "That's enough danger for today,"

she said. "I think I feel safer underwater."

"Me, too."

Danni  and  Jacen flew in their craft a few kilometers

farther  down the reef and put on their equipment again.  As

soon  as they descended to the reef Jacen drew again on  his

Force-awareness  and  let the life  of  the  reef  fill  his

spirit.  He  reached out again to Danni, and the two  shared

the  swarming, intricate existence of the reef until it  was

time to return to Heurkea.

The  next day Jacen went to the reef again with Danni,

this  time with her friend Thespar Trode, a female Ishi Tib,

whose dive gear had been adapted to her giant head and  eyes

that   thrust   out  on  stalks.  The  two  astrophysicists'

conversation tended to be technical, but Jacen didn't  mind:

he  enjoyed the display of agile intelligence even though he

didn't understand it, and while he listened he let his Force-

sense  descend  to  the reef and fill his mind  with  living

glory.

After  the  dive he invited Thespar and Danni  to  the

apartment  for snacks, but when he opened the  door  he  saw

Jaina  standing  in  the front room, still  in  her  pilot's

coveralls,  her military duffel partly opened on the  floor.

He  and  Jaina  stared at each other for a  long  moment  of

exquisitely  painful joy, and then their  twin  bond  flared

with  a  thousand  shared emotions and  memories,  the  rich

harvest  of  lives  shared since their first  day  in  their

mother's womb, and they rushed into an embrace. They pounded

each other on the back and laughed until  the tears came.

Family was another tiling that Jacen had surrendered to

the  Yuuzhan Vong. The sensation of finding his  twin  again

took his breath away.

When  he found it he looked at the insignia on Jaina's

coveralls. "You're a major now?"

"I'm  better  than that, I'm a holovid  star.  Not  to

mention  a  goddess." Her eyes shifted to the  two  visitors

standing near the door. She knew Danni Quee, of course,  but

had to be introduced to Danni's friend Thespar.

"I have to change now, and run," Jaina said. "I've got

dispatches  to deliver to headquarters." She  gave  Jacen  a

look.  "And I've got a personal message from Admiral Kre'fey

to Uncle Luke. He wants Jedi."

Jacen was pleasantly surprised. "At least someone wants

us."

She  took  a  more formal uniform out of  her  duffel,

disappeared into a bedroom to change, and then returned only

to head for the door.

"We'll  talk later, right?" she said as she paused  on

the threshold. "I want to hear everything." And then she was

gone.

Jacen gazed at the closing door in surprise as his mind

tingled with the sensation of  the fading twin bond. He  had

expected  more from his first meeting with his sister,  much

more.

She  wasn't avoiding him, Jacen thought. Not  exactly.

But  she  definitely needed some time to  get  her  thoughts

together before she could face him.

He thought he knew why.

Jacen shared with his guests some jewel-fruit he found

in  the refrigeration unit, and then the two astrophysicists

said their good-byes.

Luke  and  Mara returned before Jaina did. When  Jaina

finally arrived, she was taut and high-strung, her neck  and

shoulder  muscles  rigid with tension. First  she  delivered

Kre'fey's  request for more Jedi pilots  to  Luke,  who  was

pleased to hear that someone in the military was willing  to

take Jedi. He asked about Jaina's action at Obroa-skai,  and

from  there  gently  drew  her  into  a  discussion  of  her

activities  since  the fall of Coruscant.  Particularly  the

battles at Hapes, and the way she'd used the Yuuzhan  Vong's

own  dovin basals against them, to sow confusion and destroy

the invaders.

And her state of mind at the time. The obsession.  The

fury. The darkness.

Jaina  looked at Jacen with bleak eyes  and  said,  "I

thought you were dead. You and Anakin both. It didn't matter

to  me how many others were sent to join you. I was ready to

go myself."

It  was  easier, Jacen thought, for Jaina to speak  to

Luke and Mara than it would have been to speak to him alone.

Luke had known that.

"More than through anger or lust for power," Luke said,

"the  dark enters through despair. Through the belief  that,

in  the end, there is nothing but pain and sorrow and death,

and that nothing we do truly matters." He gave Jaina a look.

"I'm here to tell you that we do matter. And that despair is

an illusion that the dark casts before our eyes."

Jaina  lowered her eyes. "Thank you, Uncle Luke,"  she

said.

Jaina and her duffel moved in to share Jacen's room. He

wanted  to  talk to her before sleep, but she said  she  was

exhausted from her long journey from Kashyyyk; she'd talk to

him in the morning.

Jacen  fell  asleep at once and dreamed of  the  coral

reef.  He  was  awakened  two hours before  dawn,  with  the

arrival  of  his parents. Half awake, he stood in  the  door

while his father howled his happiness like a Wookiee, picked

Jacen off the floor, and whirled him around as if he were  a

two-year-old.

Leia's  emotion  was less demonstrative  but  no  less

powerful,  and Jacen felt it through the Force even  as  his

father  twirled  him through the air. When Jacen  found  his

feet  again he embraced his mother, and he sensed the  force

of Leia's profound thankfulness.

It was she whose faith had never faltered, he knew. Her

husband had deserted her and returned a changed man; the New

Republic  she had created had betrayed itself;  one  of  her

three  children  had  been killed, another  torn  away  into

captivity,  and she had watched  the third slide toward  the

dark side.

Leia  alone held firm. Leia alone insisted that  Jacen

was  alive.  And now Jacen stood within the  circle  of  his

mother's arms, and let her know that her faith had not  been

in vain.

The  hours  that  followed  were  exuberant  and  very

emotional. Han was almost bouncing off the walls in his joy,

at least when he wasn't trying to conceal a tear in his eye.

C-3PO  moved  Han  and  Leia's belongings  into  their

bedroom,  and  Jaina and Jacen's gear out. The twins  sacked

out  on the floor of the front room. C-3PO, with nowhere  to

go, propped himself against a wall and shut himself down. No

sooner  had Jacen closed his eyes than he heard a respectful

tap  at  the door-Leia's Noghri bodyguards, who hadn't  been

taken to Bastion, were now reporting for duty.

They were placed outside in the corridor, and an  hour

later  knocked  again, this time because  Vergere  had  been

released from detention and had nowhere else to go.

Jacen  was  delighted  to see  her,  but  clearly  the

apartment  was too crowded, even after Jaina volunteered  to

shift  to bachelor officers' quarters. But fortunately Jacen

had a mother who was a Princess and had connections.

The Solo family, with C-3PO, moved to another apartment

along with the Noghri. Jacen hoped Vergere might come along,

but  Luke rather firmly stated that she would remain as  his

guest.

It  was  probably a good idea, Jacen reflected  later.

When his parents found out what Vergere had actually done to

him when he was a prisoner, they wouldn't have looked at the

little alien kindly. Jacen would hate to have to get between

Vergere and Han's blaster.

The  move took much of the day, and as soon as it  was

over  Jaina  had to report to Fleet Command to  see  if  any

decision had been made about Kre'fey's request for Jedi. She

wasn't back until very late.

The  next morning, Jacen rose, seated himself  at  the

foot  of  his bed, and began to do his Jedi meditations  and

exercises.  Calling the Force, using it to help  modify  his

bodily  state,  slowing or speeding his heartbeat;  shifting

blood flow to his muscles, as if for combat; to his internal

organs,  as if wounded or short on air; or to his  skin,  to

help radiate excess heat and cool the body.

He sensed Jaina waking as the Force radiated from him,

and likewise sensed her resentment. With a sigh, she climbed

out  of  the  bed, joined him on the floor, and  merged  her

meditations with his.

They synchronized breathing and heartbeat, lifted small

objects,  and  then  engaged in a mental  lightsaber  fight,

sharing  a mutual mental image of themselves in battle  with

one  another,  visualizing  every  move,  every  parry,  the

shuffle  of  their  feet on the ground, the  thrumm  of  the

lightsabers,  the impact as the blades grated  against  each

other.  Jaina's  fight was methodical  and  cool,  utilizing

minimal  energy,  content to back  away  until  she  saw  an

opening  for an absolutely ruthless riposte. Jacen permitted

himself  more  freedom,  making  wild  attacks  and  lunges,

spinning in and out of range, striving to do the unexpected.

As  a  result he got nailed more often than not, and in  the

moment  of  his  "death,"  he  sensed  his  sister's  steely

resolve.

Afterward, as a calming exercise, Jacen sent his Force-

sense  radiating  outward, sensing his sleeping  parents  in

their  bed, the two Noghri (one on guard, the other asleep),

the  sparks of life in the adjacent apartments. Seeking  the

wondrous,  dynamic complexity he'd found on the reef,  Jacen

sent his Force-sense floating even farther,

down into the deeps surrounding Heurkea Floating City,

sensing  the  masses of microscopic life, the swarms  offish

that  had  adopted  the city as their  home,  the  deepwater

pelagic  fish that darted into the city's shadow to prey  on

the smaller fish . . .

Jaina  pulled away. Jacen opened his eyes in  surprise

and saw her getting to her feet.

"Sorry," she said. "I can't go there right now."

He blinked at her. "Why not?"

She  reached into the closet and took out her uniform.

"I've got to stay focused on my job. I can't let my mind  go

floating around in the ocean, I've got to stick with what  I

can use."

"It's life, Jaina," Jacen said. "The Force is life."

Jaina looked down at him. Anger smoldered in her eyes.

"Life  isn't  what I do anymore," she said. "What  I  do  is

death.  I kill, and I try not to get killed myself. Anything

else-" She waved her hand, "--is a luxury."

"Jaina-" Jacen began.

"Every second I spend floating around the ocean," Jaina

said, "I'm getting weaker and the Vong are getting stronger.

So  what I'm going to do-" She opened the door. "-is take  a

shower, get into my uniform, and go to headquarters  to  see

if  Admiral Sow has a message for me. And if he doesn't, I'm

going to find some pilots and talk tactics, so that maybe  I

can  learn  a trick or two that will keep my squadron  alive

through another fight. I'll see you later, maybe."

"It's  all about balance, Jaina," Jacen said, but  she

was gone, and the refresher door shut behind her.

Jacen rose and sadly began to change into his clothes.

Later,  after breakfast, he told his mother what  Jaina  had

said. Leia sighed.

"Jaina and I already had this argument at Hapes,"  she

said.  "I  begged her to get some leave, get away, get  some

perspective. But she wouldn't, and I know how far I'd get if

I repeated my arguments now."

"Uncle Luke said that despair was access for the dark,"

Jacen said.

Leia  shook her head. "Jaina's learned about the  dark

now," she said. "She's been there, and I can't believe she'd

go  again.  What I fear now is that she'll set herself"  one

impossible task after another until she breaks."

Jacen  looked at his mother. "No one in  the  family's

like that, I'm sure."

She  laughed.  "Of  all the things  Jaina  could  have

inherited  from  me,  she had to pick my  work  ethic."  She

reached out and took Jacen's hand. "Jaina's tough, you know.

She'll  get through this- and it will help that she has  one

less brother to mourn."

Jacen  tried to smile. "At least I've given her that,"

he said.

Four  days into his term of office, Cal Omas  summoned

Admiral  Ackbar and Winter to the former resort  hotel  that

now  housed the executive branch of government. The  meeting

was small; the only other guests were Luke, Ayddar Nylykerka

of  Fleet Intelligence, New Republic Intelligence chief  Dif

Scaur, and Supreme Commander Sien Sow.

YVH  droids  patrolled the corridor  outside.  Scaur's

people  had thoroughly swept the room for listening devices,

and so had Nylykerka's, who sneaked in later without Scaur's

knowledge.  The room was small, with no viewports;  a  small

white   marble  table,  scalloped  like  a  seashell,   held

indentations for each of the guests. On one wall,  a  little

fountain tinkled and chimed, emitting a mild scent of brine.

Ackbar wore his old uniform. His skin was gray and his

hands  trembled, and Winter had to help him to his  feet  as

Cal  entered  the  room.  But  his  voice  was  firm  as  he

congratulated  Cal  on his appointment,  with  none  of  the

slurring that Luke had heard before.

"I  would like to thank you all for agreeing  to  meet

with  me,"  Ackbar said. "I know that you're all  very  busy

trying to put  the new government together."

"We're never too busy to meet with one of the greatest

heroes  of  the  Rebellion," Cal Omas  said.  "You  were  my

commander for many years, so please don't think I'm going to

start pulling rank on you now."

"It was Borsk Fey'lya who insisted on your retirement,"

Sien Sow said. "Please understand that no one in the Defense

Force wished you to go-and least of all myself."

"That's  very kind," Ackbar said. His trembling  hands

keyed  a  datapad  on  the  table before  him.  "Though  the

retirement was welcome in one sense. I now possess  a  great

deal of time to think. And I have been thinking a great deal

about  the Yuuzhan Vong, the greatest menace to the security

of the galaxy since Palpatine." He splayed his huge hands on

the   marble   table.  "My  speculations  aren't  completely

uninformed  because I have . . . friends . .  .  within  the

government  who  have provided data." He looked  up  at  the

others.  "Nothing secret has come my way, but some  analyses

have found their way to me."

Luke glanced into the polished tabletop and viewed the

reflections  of Nylykerka and Dif Scaur, both of  whom  were

being  careful  to  maintain innocent  expressions.  Admiral

Sow's jowled face was likewise bland.

"And of course I've been in  the service a great  many

years,  all at the highest level," Ackbar continued. "And  I

understand  how  the service works. Even the  service  under

Borsk Fey'lya." He nodded his huge head. "So let's open  the

survey with our military.

"We  are  growing stronger," he began. "When  the  war

started, contracts were awarded in order to increase in  our

force  strength.  More capital ships,  more  fighters,  more

transports,  larger  ground forces. The shipyards  at  Kuat,

Talaan,  Corellia,  and  here  at  Mon  Calamari  have  been

disrupted by the war but not fatally injured, and  now  they

are  delivering  new capital ships, while  many  contractors

dispersed  throughout  friendly space are  delivering  large

numbers of smaller craft."

It took a while, Luke knew, First you built droids. And

then  the droids built a factory-not for warships,  but  for

more  droids.  Then the first set of droids,  plus  the  new

droids built by the factory, built another factory, and that

built ships, while  the first factory continued to build new

droids  to build new factories to build new droids to  build

new  factories to build ships. You could keep going  forever

building  new factories, new droids, and new ships, provided

supplies weren't interrupted and someone was willing to  pay

for  it all. Once the cascade started, it just kept growing,

and  the  only  way  to  stop it  was  to  destroy  all  the

factories,  ships,  and droids, because if  just  one  droid

survived, that droid could start the cascade all over again,

by building another droid.

What  this  meant was that new ships were coming  into

service, and they'd keep coming, in geometrically increasing

numbers   as   the  largely  droid  workforce  brought   new

factories on-line.

"We  also  have  many new recruits," Ackbar  went  on.

"Despite  the  efforts  of  the  Peace  Brigade  and  others

favoring  surrender  to  the Yuuzhan Vong,  many  idealistic

citizens  have volunteered for the military. Many  of  these

have  been  drawn from refugee populations  who  prefer  the

hazards  of battle to the tedium of refugee camps-  and  the

refugees,  who  have  seen  their  homeworlds  destroyed  or

occupied,  provide a highly motivated brand of recruit,  who

wish  to  win  back  their homes and take vengeance  on  the

enemy.  The  bottleneck in making use  of  their  volunteers

hasn't  so  much  been their numbers, but the  necessity  of

building training camps in safe areas and staffing diem with

qualified instructors. But this has now been done."

Luke  knew  that building training camps and  training

recruits  ran  along  the same lines as building  ships  and

droids,  except that military instructors couldn't be  built

as  easily as droids, or turned out hi a factory. Still,  in

addition  to the instructors the military possessed  at  the

beginning  of  the war, there were a great many veterans  of

the  Rebellion who had returned to the colors, and were busy

training the next generation in every tactic they knew.

"The  drawback to so many new ships and  personnel  is

that   they  are  untried,"  Ackbar  continued.  "Successful

actions against the Yuuzhan Vong have been few, so there  is

no  standard fleet doctrine based on consistent  success  in

battle. Now that New Republic research groups have succeeded

in -at least temporarily canceling the advantages given  the

Yuuzhan  Vong by their-" He glanced at  the datapad. "-their

'yammosks,' " his pink-whiskered lips working delicately  at

the  alien  word, "we may take greater risks  with  our  new

forces, but still we will be putting raw recruits up against

seasoned enemy veterans, and in the normal course of  events

may expect to take heavy casualties.

"Our  problems  have been compounded  by  failures  in

intelligence,"   Ackbar  continued.  The  two   intelligence

directors,   Luke   saw,  received  this  judgment   without

surprise.  "We were invaded by an unknown enemy  of  unknown

force,  of a species unknown to us, and impelled by  unknown

motives.  We could not infiltrate them, we could  not  scout

their  homeworlds, we could not even speak  their  language.

Even  the  famous and highly regarded Bothan secret services

were  able to accomplish nothing. Small wonder that we could

not  predict their actions. That lack has, to a degree, been

remedied, with better knowledge of the enemy and with agents

now in place on enemy worlds.

"So much for our capabilities." Ackbar paused, and one

large  hand loosened his collar. "I should like to  continue

with an analysis of  the enemy."

He  paused, perhaps waiting for a question, then  went

on. "The Yuuzhan Vong invasion of our galaxy has a religious

justification,"  he said. "Perhaps the leadership  cynically

uses  religion to camouflage other, less noble  reasons  for

the  assault,  but there is no doubt that most Yuuzhan  Vong

sincerely  believe that their gods have given our worlds  to

them. Because they have no doubts on this score, they form a

highly  motivated,  dedicated, tenacious, and  ideologically

unified corps of invaders. While the experience of Jacen and

Anakin  Solo  suggests that the Yuuzhan Vong have  divisions

among  themselves, and disagreements among their leadership,

they  nevertheless present a united front to all  outsiders.

Our  attempts to divide or corrupt diem have been fruitless.

As  far  as  I  know-and  my  knowledge  on  this  score  is

necessarily incomplete-we have been unable to turn a  single

Yuuzhan  Vong into an informer or spy. While it is  possible

that Yuuzhan Vong religious faith and ideology may weaken as

a  result  of contact with us, with occasional defeats,  and

with a galaxy more complex than their ideas can sustain,  we

can't  count  on being able to divide one group  of  Yuuzhan

Vong from another as a means to our victory."

While Ackbar spoke, Winter quietly rose from her place,

walked  to the tinkling fountain set in the wall, and soaked

a  handkerchief  in  seawater. She returned  to  Ackbar  and

efficiently swept moisture onto Ackbar's graying skin.

Dif Scaur gave a ferocious sneeze. Ackbar paused for a

moment, then continued. "The enemy's greatest successes have

been in the realm of intelligence. The galaxy was thoroughly

scouted  before  the first attack. Spies and informers  were

placed  or  recruited  throughout  all  target  areas.   Our

government was penetrated at its highest levels. Agents such

as  Nom  Anor had stirred civil conflict that distracted  us

from the real threat of invasion. Enemy agents, puppets, and

collaborators  were able to keep us thoroughly  off  balance

throughout  the critical early months of the  assault.  Even

now  we  have  no  certain knowledge that our  most  closely

guarded secrets are not in the possession of the enemy.  The

knowledge  that the Yuuzhan Vong may be fully aware  of  our

movements has paralyzed our leadership, and tended  to  make

them overly cautious."

Luke  glanced at Sien Sow. His heavy-jowled  face  was

expressionless,  but  Luke  sensed  no  resentment  of  this

analysis in the Sullustan.

"Material losses are irrelevant to the Yuuzhan  Vong,"

Ackbar  continued.  "Apparently their ships  are  grown  and

harvested  like interstellar fruit. They can  have  as  many

warships  as they can find Vong, and Vong collaborators,  to

crew them.

"And as for crews," Ackbar said, "I have on my datapad

some  estimates of initial Yuuzhan Vong strength, and  their

casualties  thus  far in the war. These are  approximations,

since we really don't know the strength of any extragalactic

reserves,  nor do we have anything but estimates of  Yuuzhan

Vong  casualties, and these may be exaggerated." He  cleared

his throat. "They often are. You may view these figures,  if

you like, on your own datapads-I am prepared to send them to

you."

Luke  took  out  his datapad and set  it  to  receive.

Figures  shimmered  across  its  screens.  Estimated   total

population, percentage of population estimated to consist of

the  warrior caste, an estimate of the number of  casualties

inflicted by New Republic forces-almost all members  of  the

warrior  caste-casualties reflected as percentage  of  total

warrior caste.

Luke  looked at Ackbar in astonishment. "We've  killed

almost a third of their warriors?" he asked.

"So these figures imply," Ackbar said.

"They're very approximate," Cal Omas pointed out.

"They're the best we have," Ackbar said. "I don't think

they're far wrong."

"Our  figures at New Republic Intelligence imply  much

the  same tiling," Dif Scaur said. Luke was always surprised

that  someone  as pale and thin as Scaur had such  a  strong

voice.

"The  Vong lost an entire battle group at Obroa-skai,"

Nylykerka  put in. "They failed at Hapes. And  Yuuzhan  Vong

casualties  at Fondor and Coruscant were heavy, even  though

both were victories for  the Vong."

"They  cannot afford many more such victories,"  Scaur

said.

"If these figures are correct," Cal said. "I don't want

to throw our fleets at the enemy on the basis of guesswork."

"There  are  ways of testing whether the  figures  are

correct,"  Ackbar said. "If the Yuuzhan Vong  stage  another

large  offensive  against a major target  in  the  next  two

months,  we'll  know that they have warriors  to  spare.  If

instead they consolidate their gains, we'll know that  their

losses have taught them caution."

Ayddar  Nylykerka and Sien Sow looked  at  each  other

uneasily.  The thought of a massive attack on Corellia,  Mon

Calamari,  or  other important targets was  never  far  from

their thoughts.

"The Yuuzhan Vong warriors arc brave," Ackbar went on.

"They  are  aggressive, they obey orders without hesitation,

fight  to the death, retreat reluctantly or never, and never

surrender."  He  drew  a long breath,  and  sighed  it  out.

"Considering their other advantages, it is lucky for us that

they possess these weaknesses."

Luke  stared  at  Ackbar. Of  course.  Why  hadn't  he

realized this before?

"Weaknesses!" Scaur's astonished cry filled  the  air.

"You call these weaknesses?"

"Of course," Ackbar said simply. "We can count on  the

enemy to have these traits. That means they are predictable.

And  while each of these traits may be admirable in  itself,

together they add up to massive and systematic weaknesses!"

He  held  up  one  giant hand.  "Consider,"  he  said.

"Bravery and aggression result in foolhardy courage, and  in

any case are useful only with adequate direction. Unthinking

obedience  means  a lack of flexibility.  To  fight  to  the

death,  and  never to surrender, is to deny  oneself  useful

alternatives. Together, we can use these Yuuzhan Vong traits

to  draw  the  enemy into a trap from which  he  will  never

escape."

Ackbar  extended a single finger as far as the  hand's

webbing  would  permit. "Foolhardy courage  will  bring  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  into the trap." He held out a second  ringer.

"Unthinking  obedience  means that Vong  subordinates  won't

dare  to question their superiors even if they have doubts."

A  third  finger.  "Unthinking  obedience  also  means  that

warriors  can't  exercise initiative and  will  continue  to

follow  their  superiors' plans even after  a  fluid  combat

situation has made them irrelevant. They won't change  their

plans  without  their superiors' permission, even  if  their

superiors  are out of touch or have an unrealistic  idea  of

the situation."

Ackbar  held up a fourth finger. "Because the  Yuuzhan

Vong  consider  death inevitable and never seek  to  prolong

their  lives,  they  will continue to fight  on  even  in  a

hopeless cause. Their superiors' courage and belief in their

cause will make them reluctant to order a retreat until it's

too  late. These facts together, my friends, form  a  weapon

with  which  we will destroy the Vong!" He closed  his  hand

into a fist and smashed it on the table. Cal Omas jumped.

"A trap," Luke said, "implies bait."

Ackbar  gasped  agreement  as  Winter  moistened  his

forehead.  "And the bait must be real. It must be  something

for  which  the Yuuzhan Vong will commit all their available

strength."

"And what is that?" Cal asked.

"Us,  I  suppose," Dif Scaur said, looking  about  the

table.  "The government." His eyes, in their hollow sockets,

turned  to Ackbar. "What sort of timing are you considering?

When should this trap be set?"

"At the moment we have a great advantage," Ackbar said.

"We  can defeat their-their 'yammosks'; we can confuse their

communications  and cause them to fire at  one  another.  We

don't  know  if these advantages will last for long,  so  we

should seek a decisive battle very soon."

"But most of our forces are inexperienced,'" Sien  Sow

said quickly. "You have said this yourself. Dare we fight  a

decisive battle with so many raw troops?"

"No,"  Ackbar  said. "We daren't. Our forces  must  be

seasoned in battle before we attempt a major engagement."

"How do we season them without a major engagement?" Dif

Scaur asked.

"Through  many small engagements," Ackbar  said.  "The

Yuuzhan Vong now have  the same disadvantage that we had  at

the  beginning-they have too many worlds to defend. Too many

trade  lanes.  Too many resources. We should let  the  fleet

loose  on these targets-on all of them." He held up a  hand.

"But  we should never attack where we know the Yuuzhan  Vong

to  be  strong.  Never engage where we  do  not  possess  an

advantage. Our military must be seasoned, but seasoned  only

in  victory.  Through one success after another,  they  will

learn to trust their commanders, and will grow in confidence

to  the point where they expect only victory." His huge  pop

eyes   turned  toward  Admiral  Sow.  "You  must  give  your

commanders  a  great deal of initiative  in  choosing  their

targets.  You must give them permission to take  risks,  and

occasionally  to  fail. Raid, skirmish, pounce  on  isolated

detachments.  Disrupt lines of communication, isolate  enemy

worlds  from one another, establish hidden bases from  which

you  can  mount raids. But you must never engage  the  enemy

where he is strong. Only where he is weak."

"The Rebellion all over again," Cal Omas said. "That's

how we fought the Empire for the first years."

"That's correct."

"But  when  we fought the Empire," Cal continued,  "we

didn't  have  so  many places to defend. Our government  was

small  and  able to move to places like Yavin  or  Hoth.  We

didn't  have  millions of refugees to feed and resettle,  or

hundreds of Senators demanding special protection for  their

worlds."

"We must defend only those places that are vital to the

war,"  Ackbar said. "They must be defended, as  we  defended

Coruscant  and Borleias, to the point where even  a  victory

would cost the enemy too much."

"And what places are those?" Cal asked.

"Places  where the new fleet elements are coming  into

being.  Mon Calamari. Kuat. Corellia." Ackbar sighed  again.

"That's all."

"That's all?" Cal said.

"Anything else"-Ackbar waved a hand-"give away when the

enemy  attacks. It will stretch Yuuzhan Vong  resources  and

make diem weaker everywhere else."

"And  the  refugees?" Luke asked. "Those huge  convoys

that  we've tried to protect? Those millions of people we've

had to resettle?"

Ackbar turned to Luke. His eyes were cold. "We must not

defend  these  huge targets. Tying our forces to  them  only

makes us weak."

Luke felt a chill settle into his spine. "I've sworn to

defend the weak," he said.

"Who  is  weak?"  Ackbar asked. "  We  are  weak.  The

government.  The  military. While we  are  weak,  the  enemy

thrives  and the refugees are doomed no matter what  we  do.

Once  we  are  strong,  the enemy will have  more  important

things to do than to attack convoys."

Luke turned away. "I understand," he said, but all his

instincts warred against Ackbar's bitter logic.

Dif  Scaur put his thin, knobby-jointed hands  on  the

table.  His skin was so pale that the hands seemed  to  fade

into the white marble.

"I ask again for your timetable," he said. "You propose

to  put our untried forces into a kind of live-fire exercise

against  a  real  enemy in order to season  them.  How  long

before you think the fleet will be ready for a major action,

or for this decisive battle your plan calls for?"

Ackbar's response was swift. "Three months," he  said.

"Three  months of continuous low-level engagement  with  the

enemy  should  give us a battle-tested force  able  to  hold

their own against the Yuuzhan Vong."

"Three  months ..." A cold smile played about  Scaur's

cadaverous face. "The timing is expedient."

The timing for what Luke wondered. There was something

highly  significant about that three months,  but  Luke  and

Ackbar were two, at least, who weren't meant to know what it

was.

Ackbar slumped into his chair. Presenting the plan had

exhausted  him,  and now that he was finished  he  permitted

himself  to show that exhaustion. Winter stroked more  brine

onto  his head. "I only regret that my health doesn't permit

me  to  serve the New Republic in a more active way," Ackbar

said.

"Your  contribution has always been fundamental,"  Cal

said.  "I can only wish myself and these others as useful  a

retirement  as  yours  has been." He  turned  to  Sien  Sow.

"Admiral,  do  you  have any comments  on  Admiral  Ackbar's

plan?"

"Other than to admire it, no," Sow said. "I'm ready to

put  the  plan into action immediately, or I can  resign  in

favor  of  Admiral Ackbar and he can carry out his proposals

without any interference from me."

Ackbar waved a weary hand. "No, my friend. I'm not  in

condition  to  command the Defense Force, and everyone  here

knows it."

Cal  gave  Ackbar a thoughtful look. "Can you  take  a

consultative  role?" he asked. "We can invent  a  title  for

you-'Fleet Director of Strategy' or some such."

The glabrous head nodded. "I'm willing to perform this

task to the best of my powers."

"His powers are very limited at present," Winter said.

These  were  the first words she'd spoken since the  meeting

had  begun,  and  they were in tones of quiet  admonishment,

like  a  governess  bringing her charge under  control.  She

looked at Cal Omas. "It won't be possible for the admiral to

be  kept  on  a schedule, running to meetings and inspecting

fleet units."

Ackbar  waved a hand in protest, but Winter was  firm.

"No.  None  of that. And no parades of visitors  asking  for

advice or campaigning for promotion, either." She looked  at

Admiral  Sow. "Some reliable staff officers would be useful,

to  do the paperwork and take care of communications. But we

can't have meetings like this all the time."

"We  won't." Cal's voice was firm. "If I need to speak

to the admiral again, I'll call for an appointment, and I'll

visit  him myself." He looked at Sow. "You'll make the other

arrangements?"

The Sullustan nodded. "I will."

Cal turned to Luke. "Is there any way the Jedi can aid

this plan?"

Luke hesitated. "I'd like to suggest that we place the

matter on the agenda of the first Jedi Council meeting."

"Very  well."  Cal  looked  at  the  two  intelligence

directors, Scaur in his civilian suit and Nylykerka  in  his

military uniform. "Any other comments?"

"I  work  for  Admiral Sow," Nylykerka said.  "At  his

direction, we can assist in formulating assessments of enemy

strength and suggest possible targets."

Dif Scaur nodded his long head at Cal. "We can do much

the  same,  of  course, at the direction  of  the  Chief  of

State."

Luke   detected   the   very  slightest   degree   of

condescension  in Scaur's tone, as if he were  humoring  the

others in the room with a show of cooperation, and again  he

wondered what it was that Scaur knew that he didn't. It  was

almost  as  though  Scaur  thought that  Ackbar's  plan  was

irrelevant  somehow,  but  he  was  willing  to  pretend  it

mattered.  He  had  been  very careful  to  question  Ackbar

concerning exactly when his plan for trapping and destroying

the  Yuuzhan  Vong would become operational,  and  had  been

satisfied when he'd learned it would take three months.

What was going to happen within three months that would

change  Ackbar's plans? Did Scaur have some other plan  that

would  win  the  war? Or-a chill wafted up Luke's  neck'-did

Scaur  know  that  the  enemy  would  render  Ackbar's  plan

ineffective,  perhaps  by  staging a  unstoppable  offensive

within the three-month period?

Luke would have to watch Dif Scaur very carefully,  he

thought. Perhaps, very quietly, Mara should watch him, too.

Two  hours  after the end of the meeting,  the  signal

ackbar  is  BACK was broadcast to all New Republic  military

units.

In  some of the larger ships, the cheering went on for

an hour.

Chapter 20

I  would like to welcome everyone," Luke said, "to this

first  meeting  of the-" He hesitated, then  looked  to  Cal

Omas. "What is it, anyway? We're not the Jedi Council,  with

half of us not being Jedi."

Cal  hesitated,  too. "Let's just  call  it  the  High

Council, for now," he said.

It wasn't the most auspicious of beginnings. The hotel

room  that  had been given to the council was  oddly  shaped

and,  like  many of the rooms requisitioned by  the  hastily

formed  government, smelled of fresh paint. The oval  table,

shiny  mother-of-pearl from a huge seashell, was  too  large

for  the room, and there was crowding at either end  of  the

table.

At  the  table's thick waist, Luke faced Cal Omas.  It

would  have  seemed too suggestive of division to  have  all

the  Jedi  at  one  side of the table facing  the  non-Jedi,

almost  as if he were asking the council to split  into  two

parties  right  from the beginning, so he'd alternated  Jedi

with others along the table's circumference.

To Luke's right was the Wookiee Senator Triebakk, large

and  hairy and snarling with vigor. To the right of Triebakk

sat  the  Jedi healer Cilghal, her protuberant Mon  Calamari

eyes  able to scan the entire room. At the end of the  table

was  Intelligence Director Dif Scaur, whose thin human frame

withstood the crowding at the table better than most.

To Scaur's right sat Kenth Hamner, a human Jedi retired

from the military, who sat rigidly upright and wore his well-

tailored  civilian suit as if it were a uniform. To Hamner's

right  was the soft-spoken Ta'laam Ranth, the Gotal  Senator

whose support had given Cal his majority in the Senate,  and

who  had demanded a seat on the council as a reward for  his

loyalty.

To Ta'laam's right was Cal, and to Cal's right was Kyp

Durron.  At the moment Kyp looked uncomfortable: he and  his

squadron  had  been ordered to Mon Calamari  on  very  short

notice,  and  no sooner had he arrived than he'd  been  told

he'd become a council member and taken to the first meeting.

He had been on the planet for less than three hours, and his

disorientation showed.

To  Kyp's  right  was  the golden-furred  Minister  of

State, Releqy A'Kla, daughter of the late Elegos A'Kla,  the

Caamasi  Senator  who had been ritually  sacrificed  by  the

Yuuzhan Vong on Dubrillion. Releqy had absorbed many of  her

father's  memories through the Caamasi memnii and  possessed

the  knowledge,  demeanor, and political  skill  of  someone

years older than her chronological age.

To Releqy's right, at the cramped far end of the table,

sat  the  erect  figure of Saba Sebatyne, who  regarded  the

others  with bright, intent reptilian eyes. She was used  to

hunting Yuuzhan Vong with packs of other Barabels, and  Luke

hoped she would come to regard the Jedi Council as a pack of

a different order.

To  Saba's  right was Sien Sow, the Supreme Commander,

and between Sow and Luke bulked  the wrinkled gray frame  of

the  Chev  Jedi  Knight Tresina Lobi, whose long  snout  was

partly unrolled on the surface of the table.

To  these was added C-3PO, whom Luke had borrowed from

Leia  in  order  to  act as secretary,  transcriber  of  the

minutes, and (if necessary) translator. The droid stood  out

of  the way in the corner and regarded the meeting with  his

glowing gold eyes.

Luke looked at the datapad and the notes he'd made  to

himself about the meeting. "I'd like to start the meeting by

finding out if any committee members have anything to  bring

before the council."

Cal  Omas  cleared his throat. "This  is  a  momentous

occasion, Master Skywalker, And you're not going to  make  a

speech?"

"I hadn't been planning one," Luke said. "But if I know

Jedi,  I think I can promise you speeches in plenty  as  the

meeting goes on." And then he looked at Cal and said, "Would

you like to make a speech?"

"My throat's a bit tired from the speeches I have been

making,"  Cal said. "But I can give you some of the applause

lines  from  my  acceptance speech-some of  them  were  real

corkers."

"I think we all heard that speech the first time." Luke

smiled.

"I'd  like  to think so," Cal said. He waved  a  hand.

"Never mind, then-sorry for the interruption."

Luke looked at the others. "Does anyone wish to offer a

report?"

"Master Skywalker." Kyp raised a hand.

"Master Durron?"

Kyp's discomfort showed plainly on his face. "Can  you

explain to me why I'm here?"

Saba Sebatyne gave a brief hiss of amusement.

"What do you mean?" Luke replied.

Kyp twisted in his seat. "I'm not sure that I belong on

the  council. Not really. I've been a lot of trouble to you,

and I hardly think I've earned a place here."

"While that may be true," Luke said, "that doesn't mean

you   haven't  earned  a  seat.  You're  one  of  our   most

experienced Jedi, particularly in fighting the Yuuzhan Vong.

No  one  questions your dedication or your  talent  or  your

mastery  of the Force. You've always supported the formation

of a Jedi Council."

"I surrendered pride on Ithor," Kyp said. "And while I

haven't  always lived up to that vow, I've tried my best.  I

disbanded  the  Dozen and placed myself under  Jaina  Solo's

command,  and  though  I ended up re-forming  the  Dozen  at

Admiral Kre'fey's request, I've been trying to keep my  head

down  and  do my job and keep out of the kind of  trouble  I

seem  to  get into. And now-" He struggled for words.  "-now

you've  put me on the governing body of the Jedi.  That's  a

temptation to the pride I've renounced. I think I  might  be

happier flying at the head of my squadron."

"The  happiness of one iz not the issue," Saba hissed.

"The issue iz where one may best zerve."

"I  think your voice on the council is necessary,  and

welcome,"  Luke told Kyp. "Though I won't keep you  here  if

you insist on resigning."

Kyp  was exasperated. "I don't want to go against your

wishes yet again, Master Skywalker."

"In that case, stay."

"Besides," Cal Omas said, "if you're worried about your

overweening pride, I think everyone here can work  out  ways

to keep you humble."

Even  Kyp  laughed at this. He waved a hand.  "As  you

wish,  Master Skywalker. Rut I hope I won't make you  regret

this."

So do we all, Luke thought.

"Since  you  asked for news," Kyp  went  on,  "I  have

information  from Kashyyyk, from Lowbacca and  the  team  of

Wookiees who arc investigating Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology."

"Go  ahead," Luke said, and was aware of Triebakk,  on

his right, leaning forward with great interest.

"They've been working with the dovin basals  from  the

captured frigate Trickster," Kyp said. "They're now able  to

use our own interdiction technology to duplicate the effects

of  dovin  basal space mines. Since the war began, the  Vong

have  used  their mines to yank our ships out of  hyperspace

and  ambush them with fighter craft, and now it looks as  if

we'll be able to do the same to them."

"Wonderful!"  C-3PO  said, translating  for  Triebakk.

"Well done!"

Sien Sow was pleased. "Splendid. That will fit in well

with Admiral Ackbar's plan."

"Perhaps Admiral Sow should explain Ackbar's plan  for

those of us who haven't heard it," Cal said.

"Perhaps  only the/impart," Dif Scaur cautioned.  "The

plan's.  .  . ultimate objective ... is perhaps  beyond  the

scope of this meeting."

In  other words, Luke thought, let's not tell too many

people  that  Ackbar hopes to lure the Yuuzhan Vong  into  a

trap.  If  only  a  few people knew, maybe  the  Vong  could

actually be surprised.

Luke had been watching Dif Scaur with care, through the

Force as well as visually. He still wasn't certain how  much

he  trusted Scaur. In this case, however, he sensed  only  a

genuine concern for keeping Ackbar's ultimate goals secret.

Sow obliged Scaur by explaining Ackbar's plan to season

the  Republic's raw recruits through a series of  skirmishes

and  small  engagements rather than risking a large  battle.

"Admiral Kre'fey," he finished, "has requested as many  Jedi

pilots  as possible. He hopes to merge many elements of  his

fleet  into what he calls the 'Jedi meld,' so that  all  may

maneuver  together as one. He reports that he's had  limited

success with this tactic at Obroa-skai, but needs more  Jedi

to make it more effective."

"I've  also received a message from Kre'fey requesting

Jedi,"  Luke said. "I have no objection to sending  any  who

wish to go. "

"I  hope  the  council  can see  its  way  to  helping

Kre'fey,"  Cal said. "The military's reeling and  needs  all

the help we can give.

They're  on their heels with one defeat after another,

they rightly blame the political leadership, and some are on

the  verge  of mutiny. I'd really hate to have  to  give  an

order  to  Garm Bel Iblis right now-who knows what  kind  of

answer  I'd  get?  If the Defense Forces don't  think  we're

going  to  stand behind them, I'd hate to think  what  might

happen."

Kyp  cleared  his throat and half-heartedly  raised  a

hand. "Yes?" Luke said.

"I'm  sorry  to have to say this after everything  the

president has just said, but we may have a potential problem

with  Admiral Kre'fey. He's a good commander, I  guess.  But

the   Bothan  clans  have-well,  they've  declared  genocide

against  the  Vong, and Kre'fey's taken it  to  heart.  It's

called  ar'krai. I don't think I want the council to declare

its support for mass murder, even the mass murder of Yuuzhan

Vong."

Luke turned to Cal Omas. "Cal, have you heard of this?"

Cal shook his head. "If  the Bothan government has made

any such declaration, they certainly haven't informed me."

"Speak  to Admiral Kre'fey," Kyp said. "He's  a  happy

warrior  these days-Fin sure he'd be glad to explain  it  to

you."

Dif  Scaur's pale, skeletal fingers fingered his  jaw.

Cold  intelligence worked behind his deep-set eyes, and Luke

sensed  that  he  found this development highly  intriguing.

"Bothans are rather secretive," he said. "It's possible that

they consider this a private decision."

"A  private decision with galactic consequences,"  Cal

said.  He seemed unsettled and angry. "It's not the Bothans'

decision, anyway, blast it."

"What do we do with Admiral Kre'fey's request?"  Kenth

Hamner asked.

"He  already has Jedi serving under him," Tresina Lobi

said. "Including Master Durron. What is his opinion?"

Kyp  hesitated,  then  shrugged.  "He's  an  effective

commander-not  a genius like Ackbar or a master  of  tactics

like  Wedge Antilles, but a problem solver and dedicated  to

victory. Ar'krai is a new policy. I don't know what he plans

to do, but I know that I'm worried."

From  the Gotal Senator Ta'laam Ranth, Luke  sensed  a

wave  of wry amusement. Gotals were thought unemotional  and

hyperlogical  by  those who could not  detect  the  emotions

radiating  from  the twin cones on their heads. Though  Luke

wasn't as good at reading Ta'laam as another Gotal would be,

he  nevertheless  received an indication  of  the  Senator's

disposition through the Force.

"Kre'fey may wish to eliminate the Vong," Ta'laam said.

"I  may  wish to eliminate the Vong. Most of the  people  in

this galaxy doubtless wish to eliminate the Vong. But may  I

remind the council that neither Kre'fey nor anyone else  can

do  it.  We  are losing the war. The issue isn't whether  we

destroy  the Yuuzhan Vong, the issue is whether they destroy

us."  His  scarlet  eyes glimmered in  their  deep  sockets.

"Moral conundrums make an entertaining mental exercise,  but

I  suggest we keep this discussion within the realm  of  the

possible."

"I  agree,"  Scaur said. He had been watching  Ta'laam

narrowly, and Luke sensed that he was agreeing, not  because

he  cared  about  the  Senator's position,  but  for  secret

reasons of his own.

Luke wished he knew what these reasons were.

Releqy nodded her golden head in agreement with  Scaur

and Ta'laam. "Perhaps that is best," she said.

"Very well," Luke said. "The issue is whether we should

send Jedi to Admiral Kre'fey."

Saba  Sebatyne put an elegant, scaled  hand  onto  the

table. "I and my kindred are highly experienced in the  kind

of  Force-melding that Admiral Kre'fey desirez for hiz Jedi.

Perhaps  I  should point out something that otherz  may  not

have realized. If Kre'fey succeedz in building this meld  in

his  forcez, it will not be Kre'fey who commands his  fleet,

it will be ussss."

The last sibilant hiss floated down the table to Saba's

startled   audience.  Triebakk,  vastly  amused,   gave   an

untranslatable roar.

"The  fleet will be conditioned to obey the orderz  of

the  Jedi," Saba went on. "They will fight at our  direction

and  under our leadership. Should Kre'fey attempt  any  sort

of-shall we call them illegal actionz?-he will need both our

permission and cooperation. It would be within our power  to

withhold them."

The  others  watched the Barabel for  a  long,  silent

moment. Then Luke said, "I think we should send Jedi."

Kyp raised a hand in halfhearted protest, then dropped

it. "Very well. But they should be warned about the Bothans'

declaring ar'krai."

"Agreed. And while training with this meld, they should

consider what to do if the meld is ever misused."

"Master Skywalker," Cilghal said. "You have throughout

the  war warned us of the dangers of aggression. But now you

send  Jedi  to  war  under a commander  who  will  use  them

aggressively. Have you changed your mind?"

Cilghal had been watching him with those bulging eyes,

Luke thought, and had sensed his mind within the Force.  She

was  never less than acute. "I have changed my policy, yes,"

he answered.

At once he had Kyp Durron's full attention. "How?" Kyp

asked.

"I'm willing to give my blessing to those Jedi who wish

to  act offensively against the Yuuzhan Vong, provided  that

they confine their objectives to military ones."

Kyp's eyes flashed. "You could have saved us both a lot

of  grief  if you'd told us that a couple of years ago!"  He

waved  his  arms.  "For years you've been warning  me  about

aggression  leading to the dark side! I didn't  listen,  and

over  and over and over again reality whacked me on the side

of  the  head! Finally I decided you were right!  I  watched

someone  else go to the dark and it was worse than  I  could

have  imagined!" He pointed a finger at Luke.  "You  finally

convinced  me!  I've been a good little Jedi for-for  months

now! I've been telling everyone who would listen that Master

Skywalker's been right all along! And now you tell  me  that

you've changed your mind'?'"

Now this was the Kyp that Luke knew.

"How dare you?" Kyp demanded. "How da-re you?"

It  was  all  Luke could do to keep from laughing  out

loud.

"At  the  beginning of the war I didn't have the  same

information that I have now," Luke said. "Perhaps  you  did,

however."

"What information?" Kyp crossed his arms and glared at

Luke with grudging patience.

"At  the beginning I was deeply disturbed by the  fact

the  Yuuzhan Vong couldn't be found in the Force. It  seemed

to  me  that  they  might  be a mocker)'  of  the  Force,  a

deliberate profanation of life, and that I would be destined

to  lead  a dark crusade against them." He looked along  the

table,  meeting every pair of eyes. "It would  have  been  a

dreadful  thing," he said. "So many Jedi would  have  turned

against the light in a war like that. I might not have  been

able to resist the darkness myself."

"What changed your mind?" Kyp's gaze was wary.

"New  information." Luke looked up. "From Jacen  Solo,

and  from Vergere. It's now possible to understand that  the

Yuuzhan Vong aren't some exception to the rules of creation.

If  we  can't  see them in the Force, it's  our  fault,  not

theirs. We can fight them without wanting to wipe them  from

existence.  We  can  fight them without  hate,  and  without

darkness."

Luke looked across the table at Kyp. "If you knew this

two  years  ago, I apologize for doubting you.  But  in  the

meantime I'm not sorry that I was cautious."

"I  couldn't have known any of that," Kyp  said.  "You

know I couldn't have known it."

"There  was so much at stake. I didn't want anyone  to

turn to the dark side because I misread the situation."

"You  .  . ." Kyp accused, pointing. "You .  .  ."  He

banged  his hand on the table in frustration and  looked  at

the  others.  "Am  I the only one here who simply  wants  to

punch Master Skywalker in the nose?"

Again  Luke concealed laughter, and he sensed that  he

wasn't  the only one. Cal Omas looked from Luke to  Kyp  and

grinned.  "I  won't throw any punches," he  said,  "but  I'm

willing to be entertained."

Kyp  threw  up  his  hands in  frustration.  "I  think

Skywalker does this for his own entertainment!"

"If  you want the practical argument, Kyp," Luke said,

"the  Chief  of State has now given us his full support  and

made  a place for the Jedi in the government. It seems  only

polite to support the government that is supporting us."

"That's  all very well," Kyp said. "But your  warnings

about  aggression  weren't without  foundation.  It's  still

possible  for the darkness to take our people. I know.  I've

been  there." He looked at Luke, pain in his eyes. "And very

recently I've watched it happen to someone else."

Now  you  know  what it's like, Luke thought.  He  had

watched  Kyp fall into darkness without being able  to  stop

him.  Now Kyp understood, when Jaina let the dark take  her,

what it was to feel that helplessness.

"The  Jedi  Code is made confusing by  the  fact  that

aggression  is never defined," Luke said. "So I'm  going  to

define  it  right  now. Aggression is making  an  unprovoked

attack,  or taking something that doesn't belong to you,  or

aiding someone else in doing one of these things."

Kyp  nodded thoughtfully. "That definition could  have

prevented a lot of misunderstanding between the two of us."

"It could have," Luke said. "I'm sorry for that."

"The  dangers are still very real," Kyp said. "They'll

become even more real when we start sending our people  into

combat."

Luke  shook his head. "We have to trust them.  They're

Jedi. We trained them."

Let  them  fill go, he thought. Vergere had shown  him

what  he knew: he needed to trust that his training and  his

example  would bring the Jedi through this crisis. Let  them

all go.

"There  iz no great danger with the meld," Saba  said.

The  others  were  startled by her complete certainty.  "All

Jedi  together,  and  of  one mind?  Should  one  fall  into

darknessss, others would draw her back to the light."

Luke  hoped this was true. "We have to trust the  Jedi

and  their training," he said. "We've given all the warnings

we can. The meld is another tool we can try to use."

"What about the Great River?" Cilghal asked. She seemed

in  genuine distress. "We have painfully set up this conduit

for  refugees, agents, and information. Are we all to engage

in  warfare  now,  and let the Great River  dry  up  at  its

source?"

"Of course not," Luke said. "Each Jedi must decide how

he or she wishes to help defeat the Yuuzhan Vong. And unless

there's  some pressing need, I intend myself to continue  my

work with the Great River."

Cilghal seemed reassured. Luke turned to Cal. "Have you

had enough speeches for today?"

"It's been enlightening." Cal looked around the table.

"Somehow I expected that Jedi would have more certainty  and

less discussion."

"I always hope for that," Luke said. "I hardly ever get

it."

Other  members of the council made reports  concerning

the  Great River or other projects. Dif Scaur made  a  brief

presentation  concerning  what  he  understood  of   current

Yuuzhan  Vong  goals, and Triebakk spoke about  the  Senate,

which seemed alarmed with itself at its boldness in electing

Gal as Chief of State, but was otherwise fairly quiet.

"Is that all, then?" Luke asked.

Tresina rolled up her snout to allow herself to  speak

without  being  muffled. "I'd like to  ask  about  the  Jedi

apprentices just arrived, with a refugee convoy, here on Mon

Calamari,"  she  said.  "They have  no  Masters  or  current

duties.  What  arc we to do with them? Send  them  to-"  She

hesitated, on the verge of letting a secret slip. "-to  join

the other apprentices at the hidden academy?"

"Who are we talking about?" asked Cilghal.

"Zekk and Tahiti Veila."

"All  were with my son Tesar on the strike at  Myrkr,"

Saba said.

All watched Anakin die, Luke thought.

"They're  being  looked after by Alema  Rar,"  Tresina

said.  "But  Alema doesn't feel ready to take an apprentice,

let  alone  two  of them, so she's asked  me  to  query  the

council."

Alema  was  right, Luke thought. Alema  had  lost  her

sister  Jedi  Knight  horribly to  a  voxyn,  and  was  very

vulnerable  even  before  the  Myrkr  strike,  probably  too

vulnerable  to spend her days looking after apprentices  who

had problems of their own.

"They're  all  warriors,  then,"  Kenth  Hamner  said.

"Veterans.  They'll  all  be needed."  He  turned  to  Luke.

"Perhaps  we should promote them to Jedi Knight?  Then  they

can decide for themselves where they'll be most useful."

Luke hesitated, then spoke. "Tahiri is very young, not

even  sixteen.  And  she  was a ... special  friend  ...  to

Anakin.  I  don't know if she's gotten over his  death."  He

shook  his head. "Knighting her and sending her against  the

Yuuzhan  Vong  might  be sending her straight  to  the  dark

side."

"Send  them  to Kashyyyk," Saba said.  "Send  them  to

Tesar,  and to the meld. Send Alema Rar az well. The  Force-

meld  will  save them from the dark side." Her  yellow  eyes

flicked  over the group. "Just az melding with the  Barabelz

saved  me,  when Tesar's hatch-matez Krasov  and  Bela  were

lost."

Saba's  sincerity was convincing. Luke  nodded.  "Very

well."

"There  are  other apprentices who were with  Anakin's

strike  force," Kenth reminded. "Jaina, Jacen, and Lowbacca,

and  of  course  Cilghal's apprentice  Tekli.  Shouldn't  we

promote them as well?"

Luke  felt embarrassment that he hadn't realized  this

himself. "Of course."

"Don't forget Tenel Ka," Kyp added.

Gal's  eyes lit up. "They'll be the first Jedi Knights

of  the  new  order," he said. "Shouldn't you  do  something

special when you knight them? A ceremony, or-?"

"The  Jedi  have never engaged much in ceremony,"  Kyp

said. "Jedi do. Jedi don't playact."

Luke  laughed. "Do you want to make a speech so badly,

Cal? There's never been any ceremony in the past."

Cal  flushed  a little, but said, "Why not  have  one?

They're  heroes, and people should know it. Bring  them  all

here  and I'll pin medals on them and talk until their  ears

turn blue."

"Tesar and Lowbacca are on Kashyyyk," Tresina reminded.

"They're  in  the  military, aren't they?"  Cal  said.

"Jaina's squadron? Reassign the squadron to Mon Calamari."

"Sir." Sien Sow spoke tactfully. "Admiral Kre'fey will

hardly appreciate losing three Jedi just when he's asked  us

to send more."

"Then  tell him he'll get more!" Cal said.  "Tell  him

that  he'll send us apprentices, but he'll get Jedi  Knights

in return!"

"Tenel  Ka has already been promoted," Releqy  pointed

out.  "To  Queen  Mother, in fact. I don't know  if  we  can

persuade  the Hapans to let her go just because we  want  to

hold a ceremony."

Cal's  enthusiasm was undimmed. "Why should the Hapans

object  if we want to honor their queen? Besides,  I'm  sure

she'll want to be present when her friends are knighted."

Luke  found himself grinning at Cal's zeal. Perhaps  a

ceremony  was in order, just to show everyone-the  Jedi  not

least of all-that things had changed. That the Jedi now  had

a  place  in  the galaxy, and were in the forefront  of  the

struggle against the Yuuzhan Vong.

Champions  again  of  the New  Republic,  and  of  the

billions of lives for which it fought.

". . . the brilliant leadership of Anakin Solo." Cal's

voice,  unusually formal and ringing and solemn, filled  the

darkened auditorium. "As we honor these young warriors,  let

us  never  forget  the others who shared their  mission  but

never  returned. Ulaha Kore. Eryl Besa. Jovan Drark.  Raynar

Thul.  Bela  and Krasov Hara. Gan-ner Rhysode, who  returned

from Myrkr only to die later, in defense of a comrade ..."

As  each  name was called, an image of each  Jedi  was

projected  above  the stage, floating as a kind  of  ghostly

presence.  In  the  orchestra pit before  the  stage,  drums

thudded out slowly, like a heart beating its last.

". . . and their leader, Anakin Solo."

Anakin's image appeared. Luke, standing at stage right

with  the  rest  of  the  High Council,  looked  up  at  the

grinning, boyish face and felt a lump rising in his throat.

It  had  been Cal who had planned the whole  knighting

ceremony.  Luke had objected to its theatrics but  had  been

overruled.  "Most  people will never see a  Jedi  Knight  in

their  whole lives," Cal had said. "I want them to see  Jedi

Knights  now, and I want them to see the Jedi Knights  doing

something meaningful."

Cal had been right. The slow invocation of the dead was

affective and moving.

Cal turned toward Luke. "Master Skywalker will now take

the podium."

Cal  left the podium and rejoined the High Council  at

stage right, his feet falling into the solemn rhythm of  the

drums.  Luke, dressed simply in his Jedi robes,  marched  in

the opposite direction and passed Cal along the way. Myrkr's

dead floated overhead like stars in a lost constellation.

Luke  reached the podium. The drums fell silent.  Luke

could   sense  the  crowd  before  him-the  auditorium   was

filled-but he couldn't hear them. The silence was profound.

Then  a  lone trumpet sounded three rising notes,  the

last  held just an instant longer than the others. The notes

were played again, in a different order, again the last held

for  the slightest bit longer than the others. And then  the

three notes repeated, again in a different order, again with

the last drawn out. The sound was heart-breakingly pure, and

somehow heartbreakingly sad.

The  drums  rattled  once, then stilled.  The  trumpet

repeated the three basic notes in varying order, then  built

on  them and took flight, rising high and swooping low,  but

overall  climbing  higher and higher  until  the  instrument

finally  sang  out one last, high note that  rang  high  and

perfect and seemed to sing in the mind forever.

The images of the dead faded with the last echo of the

trumpet.

Luke looked at the invisible audience. He wanted to be

anonymous.  He  didn't want to be Luke Skywalker,  hero  and

Jedi  Master. He wanted it to seem as if any Jedi  could  be

speaking these words.

"The  roll  call  of  the  Jedi  goes  back  for  many

millennia," he said.

Luke spoke of the first who had realized the existence

of  the Force, and who had discovered and used its vitality,

and who- realizing their power and its dangers-had devised a

code  for  its use. The first Jedi Knights, sworn to  serve,

not to rule. He spoke of those who had driven the menace  of

the  Sith  from  the galaxy, and then guarded  the  Republic

against all dangers until betrayed from within. He spoke  of

those new Jedi who had risen with the New Republic, and  who

even now were standing against the invading Yuuzhan Vong,  a

thin  bright line of fiery lightsabers directed against  the

enemy.

"We  are  here  to welcome nine new members  into  the

order," Luke said. "Each has felt the Force grow within  him

or her. Bach has felt the sting of combat and the pain of  a

comrade's loss. Each has searched his or her heart, and  now

stands  ready  to  make  the commitment  to  serve  the  New

Republic for as long as life lasts."

Luke turned to the apprentices standing in their  line

at  stage  left.  Each  was  dressed  simply  in  a  jacket,

trousers, and boots.

"As I name you," Luke said, "may you step forward  and

be garbed in the robes of a Jedi Knight.

"Tenet Ka!"

The Queen of sixty-three Worlds, for good or ill, took

formal  precedence  over the others. As the  drums  began  a

solemn  march, she stepped from the line of apprentices  and

came to stand by the podium.

"Remove your lightsaber, please," Luke said. Two  Jedi

Masters,  Kenth Hamner and Kyp Durron, stepped forward  from

the  group  of the Jedi Council carrying Tenel's  new  robe.

They pulled the robe around her, then buckled her lightsaber

over it.

Luke stepped away from the microphone. He hadn't  told

Cal  that he was going to do this, but he wanted a  part  of

the ceremony to be a private thing, for the Jedi alone.

He put his hands on Tenel's shoulders and looked at her

closely.

"Yours is perhaps the most difficult task of all,"  he

said. "The path of a queen is different from that of a Jedi.

Your  duty  as  queen  of Hapes will  inevitably  come  into

conflict with the simpler values of the Jedi."

He  looked into her shadowed gray eyes. "I don't  tell

you  to  choose one path over another. I only hope that  you

choose with your heart, and choose wisely."

Luke reached over Tenel's shoulders, took her cowl, and

drew  it over her head. Tenel Ka returned to her place. Luke

stepped back to the podium.

"Tesar Sebatyne!"

The Barabel came forward, and it was his mother, Saba,

assisted by Kenth Hamner, who clothed him in his robes.

Luke  once again stepped away from the microphone.  To

Tesar he said, "The flame of a warrior burns bright in  you,

Tesar.  You have shown that you will never falter or abandon

a  stricken comrade. May the Force guide you in all you do."

Tesar, yellow eyes burning with pride, returned to his place

in the line.

"Alema  Rare!"  Alema stepped from  the  rank  of  her

comrades. Through the Force Luke could perceive her aura  of

sadness.  While  she  was garbed by Tresina  and  Kyp,  Luke

considered the Twi'lek, what he knew of her savage childhood

in the ryll dens and of the sister who had died in her arms,

her  flesh  afire with the acid of a voxyn. Alema  had  also

loved  Anakin,  and suffered at his loss. Luke  touched  her

gently, careful not to contact the sensitive head-tails.

"Fate  robbed  you of your childhood,  and  your  only

family,"  he said. "Though the Jedi can't replace either,  I

hope you will look to us for the love and friendship we  can

give you, and the strength we can lend you in times of need.

Now  go  to  Kashyyyk, join your mind with the  others,  and

heal."

As  he raised Alema's cowl over her head, he saw tears

glimmer in the Twi'lek's eyes.

"Lowbacca!"

The ginger-haired Wookiee towered over Luke and looked

down  at him with a tanged grin. Luke couldn't help but grin

back.

"You're  the one I've never doubted," he  said.  "Your

path  has never veered from the right, and you've shown that

it never will."

Lowbacca had to bow deeply in order for Luke to  reach

high  enough  to draw the cowl over his head.  A  murmur  of

laughter ran through the audience.

"Jacen Solo!"

Jacen stepped out in silence, and Luke could sense his

readiness in the Force. He took Jacen by the shoulders.  The

young man looked at him from his startlingly bearded face-he

had  trimmed  the whiskers that had grown in captivity,  but

not  gotten rid of them entirely. Luke could sense his utter

openness.  His  honesty.  All  the  Jedi  virtues   he   had

maintained  despite the trials and terrors of the  last  few

years.

"Jacen," Luke said. "Never stop asking questions."

Jacen seemed stunned. "I never thought I'd hear you say

that!"

"I  never thought I'd say it, either," Luke said,  and

hugged him.

Jacen returned to the line, radiating bemusement.

"Zekk!"

Zekk  was robed by Kyp and by Luke himself.  All  were

Jedi who knew darkness firsthand.

"Zekk," Luke said. "You are a Jedi who created himself

in  the image of" the Jedi Knight you wanted to be. Once the

Shadow  Academy called you its Darkest Knight, but  all  the

forces of darkness couldn't keep you from seeking the light.

Now  that  you  have found it, may you live  always  in  its

radiance."

Zekk returned to the line, his pride a brilliant  fire

in the Force.

"Tahiri Veila!"

On  bare  feet the little blond girl stepped  forward,

brave and pale in the darkness. She was another orphan whose

childhood had been cut short. Another who had been  captured

and  ill  treated  by the Yuuzhan Vong.  Another  who  loved

Anakin, and who had been loved in turn by him.

Cilghal and Saba robed her. Luke looked down into  the

small serious face, and touched her thin shoulders lightly.

"Life has torn much from you that you loved," he said,

"but your courage has been equal to everything. Never forget

that the Jedi will always be here for you. Never forget that

the  Force  begets life as well as death."  He  touched  her

check.  "And  never forget that here you are  loved.  Go  to

Kashyyyk, join your mind to that of others, and heal."

Tahiri's chin trembled, and she swallowed tears as Luke

drew the hood over her bright hair.

Tekli!"

Cilghal and Tresina robed her. Luke thought it was too

ridiculous for him to tower over the one-meter-high Chandra-

Fan  as  he spoke, so he hitched up his robes and sat cross-

legged on the ground in front of her.

"Your mastery of the Force is not as strong as some of

us," Luke said, "but your devotion is second to none. You've

taken  upon  yourself the role of healer. While  others  may

garner  more  fame  and glory, remember that  yours  is  the

noblest  art,  and  that the preservation  of  life  is  the

greatest gift a Jedi can bestow upon another."

Luke  drew  the hood over her snouted  face  and  rose

easily  to his feet from his cross-legged position. Without,

he was pleased to note, using either the Force or his hands.

"Jaina- Solo!"

Jaina  stepped forward, and Luke could feel  her  cool

presence in the Force, the precise way her footsteps matched

the  drumbeat that still thudded up from the orchestra  pit.

She wore her military uniform-Cal Omas had asked her to,  in

order  to show her commitment to the New Republic.  Kyp  and

Kenth Hamner, the two pilots, robed her.

Luke put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her

dark  eyes,  and a chill suddenly seized him,  flooding  his

nerves with cold fire.

"I  name you the Sword of the Jedi," he said. "You are

like  tempered steel, purposeful and razor-keen. Always  you

shall be in the front rank, a burning brand to your enemies,

a  brilliant fire to your friends. Yours is a restless life,

and  never shall you know peace, though you shall be blessed

for  the peace that you bring to others. Take comfort in the

fact  that,  though  you stand tall and alone,  others  take

shelter in the shadow that you cast."

Luke  fell silent, and for a long horrified moment  he

stared into Jaina's wide-eyed face.

He  hadn't meant to say that. He hadn't meant  to  say

anything  like it. Yet the words had poured forth  from  him

like  the  ringing sound of a giant bell, a  bell  that  was

being tolled, not by Luke, but by someone else.

He  sensed  the  other Jedi staring  at  him.  Had  he

actually spoken loudly enough for them to hear?

Luke's hands trembled as he drew the cowl over Jaina's

head.  When  he returned to the podium he had to fumble  for

the microphone switch.

"Draw your lightsabers," he said, "for the first  time

as Jedi Knights!"

The  click-swoosh of nine igniting lightsabers  hissed

through  the air. He turned to the newly minted Jedi Knights

and  drew  his  own lightsaber, as the Jedi members  of  the

council drew theirs.

"We  salute you for the first time as colleagues,"  he

said,  and  he  and the council members performed  a  ritual

salute with their lightsabers.

"Face  front," he said, turning toward  the  audience,

"and recite with me the Jedi Code."

''There is no emotion; there is peace," they all said.

"There  is  no ignorance; there is knowledge.  There  is  no

passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is  the

Force."

As they chanted the words, the lone trumpet rose again,

the  three  rising  notes  calling them  to  their  destiny.

Illuminated  by  their lightsabers, the Jedi  Knights  stood

erect and silent in the darkness.

The trumpet rose again to its last, high note and died.

As its echo faded, the lights died away.

The  audience burst into applause. But when the lights

came up again, the stage was empty.

Chapter 21

Technically  speaking,"  Jacen  said,  "I'm  still   on

vacation."

"For how long?" Zekk asked.

"For  as  long  as Master Skywalker tells  me  I'm  on

vacation."

Zekk shrugged. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"I plan to. I just feel a little . . . odd, seeing the

rest  of  you  shipping out to Kashyyyk  while  I'm  getting

bronzed out on the reef."

"You've earned your leave," Zekk said. "You earned your

leave  in ways I don't even want to think about. Don't worry

about it."

Jacen, Zekk, and the other newly made Jedi Knights were

at the reception thrown in their honor by Cal Omas. The room

was  huge  and marble-lined and featured a pair of  tinkling

fountains ornamented by frolicking bronze fish. The  freshly

minted  Jedi  Knights  still  wore  their  Jedi  robes,  and

lightsabers, and carried drinks in their hands.  Older  Jedi

and  politicians and military' stood about and  made  polite

conversation.

Zekk  looked  around the gathering.  "This  is  really

strange," he said. "What are all these people doing here?"

Jacen smiled. "I was the son of the Chief of State," he

said. "For me, this is an ordinary night at home."

Zekk  shook his head. "Diplomacy wasn't something  the

Shadow Academy cared much about."

"I guess not."

Han loomed up at Jacen's shoulder, a broad grin spread

across  his  face.  He put an arm around Jacen's  shoulders.

"Now  let  me tell you about my graduation night.  .  ."  he

began.

"It was lovely," Leia said. "I had tears in my eyes."

"The ceremony was mostly Cal's work," Luke said. "He's

got a flair for dramatics that I didn't know existed."

"My children," Leia sighed. "All grown up. And the Jedi

have them now."

Luke looked at her. "Does that bother you?"

"A  little.  Sometimes I wish they'd grown  up  to  be

something other than Jedi. Something safe. But-" She  sighed

again. "-that's not going to happen in our family, is it?"

Luke tried to picture Ben grown up, sitting at a  desk

cluttered with actuarial tables. "I guess not."

Leia  looked at him narrowly. "What happened when  you

talked  to Jaina? I could feel it in the Force, but I  don't

know what it was I felt."

Luke hesitated. "I'd rather not say. It's for Jaina to

tell you."

"Hm." Leia looked at him suspiciously, then decided not

to  pursue  it.  She  gave a sidelong  glance  toward  Lando

Calrissian,  who  stood nearby chatting with  Triebakk.  She

leaned  close to Luke and lowered her voice. "How did  Lando

and Talon Karrde get Cal elected?" she asked. "Do you know?"

"I don't. But we can make a highly educated guess."

Leia  bit her lip. "I hate to just ask. But we  should

know. We're going to have to try to protect Cal when it  all

comes out."

"You think it'll become public knowledge?"

"I  know it will." Her eyes hardened. "Right now we've

got smugglers controlling a swing vote in the Senate. That's

not  a good thing, and the New Republic is going to pay  for

it."

Luke  looked at Lando appraisingly. "We should have  a

talk with Captain Calrissian."

Leia nodded. "Yes. And soon."

Jacen patiently listened to his father's reminiscences

until Han was approached by Kenth Hamner, who wanted to find

out about what fighter pilots were already calling the "Solo

Slingshot," the dive toward a dovin basal that could be used

to  loop  a combat craft in an unexpected direction to  take

the   enemy  by  surprise.  While  Han  was  describing  his

encounter with the Yuuzhan Vong battle group, Jacen-who  had

already heard the story-slipped away to find his sister.

Jaina  stood with her back against one of  the  room's

side  columns, a plate of food held out in front of her like

a shield. She gave Jacen a dark look as he approached.

"If this is about what Uncle Luke said, I don't want to

talk about it."

"Then  let's not." He took a fruit-filled pastry  from

her plate. "I thought we should congratulate each other."

She   gave   a   skeptical   tilt   to   her   head.

"Congratulations."

"Congratulations, sis." Jacen popped the  pastry  into

his mouth. The filling oozed onto his tongue as he bit down.

It  tasted  like  the  product  of  an  extractive  industry

specializing in fossilized hydrocarbons, and he coughed.

Jaina  grinned as she pounded him on the back.  "Vile,

aren't they? I think the caterer must be a Vratix."

"He's  in the pay of the Yuuzhan Vong," Jacen coughed.

"He's  trying  to poison all the Jedi along  with  the  high

command."  He  took a swig of Gizer ale to  wash  the  foul-

tasting  pastry  down. "That's better."  He  looked  at  her

again. The inadvertent comedy had broken the tension between

them.  "Can  we  do  this congratulations thing  again?"  he

asked. "I have a feeling we wrong-footed it the first time."

She  smiled. "Sure. My fault." She put the tray  on  a

nearby  table,  then  embraced him  and  kissed  his  cheek.

"Congratulations."

"Congratulations." He held Jaina  against  him  for  a

moment, feeling in the Force the twin bond that united them,

and  then stepped back. "You've always been my best  friend,

you know."

"And you've been mine." She looked over his shoulder at

someone  in the crowd. "I see Danni Quee is here.  Have  you

talked to her yet tonight?"

"Not yet."

She gave a little smile. "Are you and Danni seeing each

other?"

He blinked in surprise. "No, not that way. Or anyway, I

don't think so."

Jaina  laughed. "You don't think so. Don't  you  think

you'd know?"

"We  don't see each other that way. I don't  think.  I

mean, she's five years older than I am."

"Dad's older than Mom. What does that matter?"

"And  Danni's so accomplished. She's brilliant.  She's

got  all  these science degrees. I don't see  why  she'd  be

interested in me- all I know how to do is be a Jedi."

Jaina found this hilarious. She tried to strangle  her

laughter,  but all that did was turn her red and send  tears

popping from her eyes.

"  'She's  so  accomplished!' 'I'm  just  a  Jedi!'  "

Laughter choked the words. "And from Jacen Solo-!"

Jacen  tried to gather the shreds of his  dignity.  "I

don't see what's so funny."

She patted him on the shoulder and wiped the tears from

her  eyes.  "That's  fine, brother. I'm hardly  the  one  to

advise anybody on romance."

Suddenly Jacen was very interested. "Oh yes? And  what

docs that mean?"

She  looked at him in the dawning knowledge that she'd

just made a mistake. "It means what it means," she said.

" Who does it mean?" Jacen asked.

She looked away, then sighed. "Jagged Fel," she said.

Jacen was astonished. "You must be joking. That stuck-

up fighter pilot?"

Jaina scowled. "You don't know anything about him. He's

not re ally like that."

"If  you say so." There was a moment of silence. Jacen

thought  it  might be an apt time to move  off  this  topic.

"What  are you doing tomorrow?" he asked. "I don't know  how

much of this planet you've seen, but we could go-"

She  shook her head. "I'm shipping out with the  rest.

Back to Kashyyyk."

He  looked  at her in surprise. "Why arc  you  leaving

now?"

Her defiant look was back. "I was on a special mission

from Kre'fey. It's over. I'm bringing his Jedi back, and I'm

going back with them."

"You're on a two-week furlough. I've seen the datapads.

They're on the table in the room we're sharing."

Jaina sighed. "I've learned some new tactics since I've

been here-one of them Dad's slingshot maneuver. We've got  a

bunch of new Jedi to integrate into the command system.  I'm

needed back on Kashyyyk, drilling all this new material into

the fleet."

"Every moment you're here, the Yuuzhan Vong are getting

stronger," Jacen half quoted.

"That's  right. Besides," she added, "you heard  Uncle

Luke.

I'm  the  Sword of the Jedi. I'm always hi  the  front

rank. Peace is not my job."

Jacen  tried to navigate through the thorns he  sensed

springing  up around his sister. "The Yuuzhan  Vong  may  be

getting  stronger while you're here. But if  you  don't  get

some  time  to  relax, I don't see you getting  stronger  at

all."

"It's not just me. I've got eleven other pilots in  my

squadron to look after, and half of them are rookies, and if

I  don't beat them to pieces in training, the Vong arc going

to  blow them to pieces in combat." She shook her head, then

looked  at him. "It's all right, you know," she said.  "I've

accepted my own death."

Jacen  looked  at  her in surprise  and  horror.  "You

haven't-" he stammered. "You haven't felt your death in  the

Force?"

"No." Her eyes were strangely without animation, as if

these were words she'd spoken a thousand times before.  "But

I  can  count.  I can count the enemy, and I can  count  the

number of friends who have been killed, and I can count  the

number of battles before we can hope to end the war and  the

number  of  shots that are going to be fired in my direction

in  those battles. I don't have to do anything wrong  to  be

killed.  I don't have to make a mistake. All that I need  to

do is be there long enough, and it'll happen." She looked at

him,  and  with  a  half-smile  reached  out  to  touch  his

shoulder. "But it's all right. It's what I've sworn  to  do.

All  that will happen is that I'll join the Force,  and  I'm

part  of  the  Force already, so with luck I'll hardly  even

notice the change."

"All  life  is precious," Jacen urged.  "All  life  is

unique. You shouldn't just throw yours away."

"Anni Capstan was precious and unique," Jaina said. "So

was   Ulaha  Kore.  So  was  Anakin.  Uniqueness   isn't   a

protection."  She  looked  at him.  "And  I'm  not  throwing

anything  away. I'm just looking at the odds,  and  I'm  not

arrogant  enough  to believe that I'm an exception  when  so

many of our friends aren't." She looked at him. '''There  is

no  death, there is the force. Didn't we all just say  that?

I'm not just saying it, I'm living it."

"Don't cut us off from you," Jacen said. "We need you,

too."

Jaina's look softened. "When you need me, I'll  do  my

best  to  be there. That's a promise. That's being  a  Jedi,

too."

She  walked away quickly, leaving Jacen looking  after

her. Then he turned and gazed blindly into the crowd. It was

only then that he saw, amid taller figures, the small figure

of Vergere.

At  any other time he would have been delighted to see

her, but now he felt too troubled to talk to anyone. But she

saw him and came toward him, and he tried to put a smile  on

his face as she arrived.

"You are now a Jedi Knight," she said. "Felicitations."

"Did you see the ceremony?"

"I  did not." Her wide mouth drew down in disapproval.

"The  ceremony was a piece of political theater. Jedi should

have  nothing to do with such things. When I was made a Jedi

Knight,  it was simple- 'A Jedi Knight you are,' Yoda  said,

and that was that. What more should we need?"

"But  you're  here."  Jacen looked  at  the  assembled

dignitaries. "This gathering is political as well."

"I  came for personal reasons-to see you and wish  you

well."

Jacen looked at her. "Thank you."

"I wonder, now that you are a Jedi Knight, if you have

made any plans."

Jacen shrugged. "I'm on vacation until Uncle Luke says

I'm  not. And then, unless Uncle Luke has other ideas,  I'll

join the fleet like the rest."

Vergere made a chrr-ing noise. "Why? Your nature is not

that of a military man."

Jacen nodded. "No, it's not. But the Yuuzhan Vong have

to  be  defeated,  and  I can help.  And  I'll  be  with  my

friends."

"And your sister." Vergere's eyes were almost accusing.

"And my sister." Jacen nodded.

Her  expression grew severe. "A Jedi Knight  must  not

decide as a child decides."

Jacen looked at the avian in surprise. "Are you trying

to tell me something?"

"I cannot speak to those whose cars arc blocked!"

Jacen  took a sip of his drink and glanced around  the

room. "Then let's talk about the weather."

"Sunny. Light clouds. Small chance of rain." Vergere's

tone was acid.

Jacen  smiled. "Sounds like a good day  to  visit  the

reef."

Vergere huffed again.

Jacen glanced again over the room and saw Luke talking

seriously to Cal Omas and Releqy A'Kla.

"You  can't  tell me that in the old days,  your  Jedi

Masters  didn't  consult with politicians.  You  served  the

Supreme Chancellor, after all."

"Chancellors came and went," Vergere said. "We  served

the Republic"

"Master Skywalker," Jacen said, "is on his fourth Chief

of State."

"That  is  as  it should be." For once,  Jacen  sensed

grudging respect in Vergere's words.

Jacen's  eyes traveled the room, and he saw the  gaunt

figure  of  Dif  Scaur speaking with Cilghal. He  remembered

Danni's telling him about Scaur's project, the one involving

Yuuzhan Vong bioscience.

"Some  of our biogeneticists may have found the  genes

that  keep  the  Yuuzhan Vong isolated from the  Force,"  he

said.

He  could  sense Vergere's hyperalertness through  the

Force. "Tell me," she said.

Jacen  told the little avian about the Yuuzhan  Vongs'

genetics, which had proven to be largely compatible with the

human,  the  exception  being a unique  strand  that  seemed

common to all Vong-formed life.

"I  suppose that could be responsible for the  Yuuzhan

Vong not being discernible in the Force," Jacen said, but he

fell silent when he became aware that Vergere had ceased  to

pay  attention. Her crest had fluffed forward,  as  had  her

antennae, and she radiated intense concentration.  When  she

finally spoke, it was as if she was speaking to herself.

"It  is  as  I  feared,"  she said.  Urgency  rang  in

Vergere's voice. "Who else knows this? Who?"

"It's been kept very secret," Jacen said. "You  and  I

and  Danni know. And the scientists themselves, but  they've

been placed in seclusion."

"Who has them?"

Jacen  nodded his head toward Dif Scaur. "New Republic

Intelligence," he said.

Vergere  looked  at Scaur's cadaverous  figure.  Jacen

could  feel  the  intensity of Vergere's  gaze  through  the

Force, and was glad she wasn't turning this scrutiny on him.

Vergere's  crest swept back, and she gave a little,  ominous

hiss.

"I  can  imagine what happens next," she judged.  "And

there is another evil."

"What?" Jacen was bewildered. "What evil?"

Vergere  swung back to him. "You cannot  guess,  young

Jedi?" she asked. She gave a dry little laugh. "Despite  all

your  adventures,  I  fear  that  you  possess  insufficient

experience of depravity."

Chapter 22

Jaina  came out of her roll right onto the tail  of  an

enemy  TIE  fighter. She launched a missile by pure  reflex,

and  the fighter blossomed into a brief, scarlet flower.  In

another  two  seconds she'd vaped the first TIE's  wingmate,

and the rest of her squadron accounted for three more.

Through the Force she could sense enemy pilots engaged

with Kyp's Dozen and completely unaware of her existence.

"Starboard  sixty degrees, Twin Squadron,"  she  said.

"Three, two, mark."

Her three four-fighter flights rolled over and through

one another in a perfect crossover turn. "Accelerating now,"

Jaina  warned,  and pushed the throttles  forward.  She  had

already  marked out a target, and she pushed her  mind  into

the Force-meld to tell Kyp she was coming.

Kyp  sent  a  series of thoughts and impressions  that

translated to something like, You're welcome to a- piece  of

this  sorry  bunch  if  you  want one.  The  Force-meld  was

powerful here, with so many Jedi present: it was almost like

being a party to a large, private conversation. Though Kyp's

squadron  was  tangled up with superior numbers,  he  didn't

seem terribly threatened.

It  was strange to feel the enemy in the Force  again.

The Yuuzhan Vong were defending their convoys and rear areas

in part with mercenary and Peace Brigade forces. These enemy

pilots  defending Duro were still present in the Force,  and

often  Jaina  knew what the enemy pilots were  going  to  do

before they knew themselves.

Jaina  hadn't  felt the enemy in the Force  since  the

fleet  had  raided  Ylesia, a few weeks  before.  The  Peace

Brigade  headquarters had also been defended by  natives  of

the  galaxy, which made them easy to fight, but the raid had

gone  wrong  for other reasons. Bad intelligence, inadequate

operational plan, bad luck.

This raid was going to go right, if Jaina had anything

to do with it.

Jaina's   targets  were  Howlrunners,  which   partly

explained  Kyp's  lack of urgency. Jaina told  each  of  her

pilots  to  pick a target, slam it, then rendezvous  on  the

other  side  of the furball in order to regroup for  another

slash.

Her  attack left a Howlrunner trailing flame  and  the

panic  of its pilot a distant shriek in the Force. Her other

pilots  succeeded in damaging or destroying  their  targets,

and  as Jaina told her fighters to regroup, she heard  Kyp's

laconic  voice  in  the Force suggesting that  she  go  find

someone else to shoot at.

At  that  instant  Jacen's presence blossomed  in  the

Force, and somehow Jaina knew exactly where he wanted her to

go, and that he wanted her to use her shadow bombs.

"On my way," Jaina said.

Jacen was on the bridge of Admiral Kre'fey's flagship,

the  Bothan  Assault Cruiser Ralroost. His vacation  on  Mon

Calamari  had lasted three weeks-after that, Luke  had  told

him he had the choice of working with the Great River or  of

joining Jaina and the fleet at Kashyyyk.

Perhaps  Luke had been a little surprised  by  Jacen's

choice.

He left his life on Mon Calamari with small regret. He

had  enjoyed  his  brief respite from the war,  enjoyed  the

company of his parents, of Luke and Mara and Danni Quee, but

he as well as Luke knew that it was time to move on.

Once he'd joined Kre'fey, Jacen's experience with  the

Jedi  meld on Myrkr had helped him rise above the  weeks  of

training that he'd missed. And in time it had become obvious

that  his  talents  were  less  tactical  than  spatial  and

holistic. Through the Force, and through the combined  minds

and  perceptions of the Jedi, he seemed to gain a  sense  of

the  entire  battlefield.  He  could  sense  where  to  move

tactical  elements and when to press an attack and  when  to

hold  back or withdraw. With the other Jedi as his eyes  and

ears,  he  felt the necessity of moving a squadron here,  of

pulling  back the main body there, of maintaining a hovering

threat elsewhere. He couldn't have said why he knew this, he

only knew that he knew.

If he narrowed his focus to the individuals who made up

the  meld,  he  could  sense their  distinct  personalities:

Corran  Horn  with his stubborn resolve; Kyp  Durron  flying

with  controlled  fury; Jaina with her machinelike  tactics,

brain abuzz with calculation.

Everything was calculation with Jaina these days.  She

had  fashioned  herself  into  a  weapon-the  Sword  of  the

Jedi-and  there was room for nothing else. If  he  tried  to

talk  to  her about anything but her job, anything  but  the

daily necessities of fighting and survival, she simply would

not respond. It was as if much of her personality had simply

ceased to exist.

It was painful to watch. Jacen might have been hurt by

Jaina's attitude if he weren't so concerned over the  damage

that she must be doing to her own spirit.

Now. He almost heard the Force speaking in his car, and

he  ordered  Saba  Sebatyne and  the  Wild  Knights  into  a

slashing run on an enemy cruiser.

Two  months  of  constant raids  and  skirmishing  had

demonstrated that Jacen's chief value wasn't in the  cockpit

of  a starfighter, but on the bridge of a flagship, where he

could  help  direct  an entire armada. Kre'fey  had  happily

taken him aboard the Ralroost.

And  now,  as turbolasers flared and missiles  erupted

against  shields,  he  sensed a  place  for  Jaina  and  her

squadron.

And  then,  in the whirling movement of the  squadrons

that  blazed  in  the  night, Jacen  sensed  something  else

hovering in the darkness, weapons ready.

"Scimitar Squadron," he said in response to this sudden

knowledge. "Please stand by."

"Twin Squadron," Jaina said, "turn toward Duro  on  my

mark. Three, two, mark."

Twin Suns Squadron performed another perfect crossover

turn,  placing the disk of Duro directly ahead. It  was  the

first  time Jaina had seen the planet since its loss to  the

enemy.  She  had been in a field hospital here  after  being

wounded-she'd been blind, dependent on others, embroiled  in

conspiracy,  and with a major Vong offensive in the  offing.

Her memories of the planet weren't happy ones.

But Duro was now a different world. She remembered Duro

as  a gray-brown waste of desert and slag, but the disk  was

green  now,  bright with vegetation. The  Yuuzhan  Vong  had

converted the poisoned planet to their own purposes, but  in

so doing so had taken a near-dead world and made it thrive.

As Jaina neared Duro, she could see the fires of deadly

energies flashing across the green disk of the planet. Three

Yuuzhan  Vong cruisers were fighting to hold Kre'fey's  main

body  from  a  cluster of huge transport craft,  and  though

outnumbered  two  to  one the enemy cruisers  were  fighting

hard.   Their  starfighter  pilots  weren't  Peace   Brigade

draftees  in  motley  craft, either, but first-rank  Yuuzhan

Vong warriors in coralskippers. That was obvious enough from

the  way  they  fought,  using a  high  degree  of  tactical

intelligence even though their yammosk had been jammed.

As Jaina watched, one of the enemy cruisers broke apart

in  flame and ruin, and she sensed the satisfaction of  Saba

Sebatyne  with the part her Wild Knights had played  in  the

attack.  Go  for  the next cruiser, Jacen  sent,  and  Jaina

pulsed a silent acknowledgment.

"First  flight goes in now," she said. "Second  flight

follows.  Third flight watches our tails until we're  clear,

and then you can make your run."

Lowbacca and Tesar acknowledged.

"Dropping shadow bombs now," Jaina said. The missiles,

packed  with explosives instead of propellent, dropped  from

her  X-wing's  racks. With the Force Jaina  shoved  them  on

ahead,  braking  her own X-wing slightly so as  to  increase

their  separation.  She set them on a  trajectory'  for  the

aftmost  enemy  cruiser, then concentrated  on  leading  her

flight's  run with standard missiles and laserfire, bringing

them  to the target at a slightly different angle so  as  to

fool  the  enemy  dovin  basals,  which  might  snatch   her

concussion missiles without noticing the less visible shadow

bombs as they approached.

Space  lit up ahead, a brilliant display of turbolaser

fire,  plasma cannon projectiles, magma missiles, concussion

missiles,  and  burning craft. This was the  most  dangerous

part of her approach, Jaina knew, flying in between the  big

capital ships pounding each other at point-blank range.  She

could  be flamed by her own side without their even noticing

her presence.

Yet she knew, somehow, that she was in no real danger.

More tangible than the missile and turbolaser fire she could

sense  the Force, and this time the Force wouldn't  let  her

fail.

Her laserfire raked the enemy hull. Dovin basals sucked

down  her  concussion missiles and one of the shadow  bombs,

but  she  saw  a geyser of brilliant fire as the  two  other

shadow bombs struck the enemy, and she pulled up and away as

more bombs dropped into the inferno.

Lowbacca's  second flight, six seconds behind,  scored

another series of hits. Though the cruiser wasn't destroyed,

it  was no longer able to defend itself effectively, and the

New  Republic cruisers began to strike home with one  attack

after another. The Yuuzhan Vong ship was doomed.

"First  flight! Second flight! Skips  on  your  tail!"

Tesar's  voice  called,  not through  the  Force,  but  over

Jaina's headphones.

"Scissors,  Lowie!" Jaina called. "I'll break  right!"

One  flight  would go right, the other left, and  then  they

would interweave to shoot the enemy off each other's tails.

"Negative, Twin One!" another stern voice  called.  It

was a voice that Jaina had learned to trust.

Behind her burning coralskippers lit the night. "Thank

you,  Colonel  Harona,"  she  called  as  Scimitar  Squadron

flashed   past  her  cockpit,  their  colossal  ion  engines

speeding them past.

"Don't thank me," Harona said. "Jacen told us you might

need help about now."

Sometimes,  Jaina thought, her brother was  positively

eerie.

The second enemy cruiser was a burning wreck, unable to

fire   and  unable  to  defend  itself,  leaving  only   one

functional  enemy  cruiser against six of  Kre'fey's.  Three

concentrated on the lone enemy while the others and most  of

the  smaller ships dived after the transports. About a third

of  the transports tried to land on Duro, but were blown out

of  the  atmosphere  before they could put  down.  The  rest

scattered and were picked off one by one by the New Republic

forces.

After  the  transports  and the  single  cruiser  were

destroyed,  Kre'fey's cruisers settled into low  orbit  over

Duro  and pounded anything on the ground that looked like  a

warrior  damutek,  warehouse, command  center,  factory,  or

spaceport.

Jaina didn't know if she liked the idea of bombardment

from  orbit,  and she could sense Jacen's stern  disapproval

through the Force. Though she could understand the advantage

of hitting an enemy from a position of safety, a bombardment

was  contrary  to  her  Jedi instincts and  training,  which

focused  on  actions  that were more precise  and  far  less

random.

Despite the Jedi's attitude, bombardment of the  enemy

was  part  of  Admiral Kre'fey's standard orders.  Kre'fey's

Question  Number  One, How can I hurt the Vong  today?,  was

best answered by blowing up things.

"Remember,"  Kre'fey had said, "they destroyed  entire

worlds  by  seeding alien life-forms from orbit. Just  think

what  they  did  to Ithor. What we're doing is  merciful  by

comparison."

True, Jaina supposed. As far as it went.

"Regroup,  Twin  Squadron," she called.  "Prepare  for

recall."

Her  fighters  slotted  neatly  into  their  assigned

formations.  Through the Force she could feel  their  pride,

their sense of accomplishment. Her relentless insistence  on

drills  and  practice sessions had paid off. In  the  nearly

three  months since her visit to Mon Calamari, months filled

with  raids  and skirmishes and alarms, she  hadn't  lost  a

single  pilot. Three X-wings had been destroyed or so  badly

damaged  they  were  scrapped, but  the  pilots  had  always

ejected  before their craft were wrecked and were  recovered

afterward.

Her six rookies were now proud veterans, all with kills

to  their  credit. A few weeks ago Jaina had astonished  her

Neimoidian  wing-mate,  Vale, by sitting  with  her  at  the

breakfast  table  and  engaging in a conversation  that  had

nothing to do with tactics or with Vale's deficiencies as  a

pilot.

Vale and the other rookies had proved themselves. They

were worth knowing.

But  though Jaina was friendlier than she'd been,  she

was  careful  to avoid actual friendship. Her  determination

hadn't lessened over the months. She knew that the raids  on

Yuuzhan  Vong territory had been carefully planned  to  take

advantage  of  temporary enemy weaknesses. The  attacks  had

been  made only against outnumbered or ambushed forces,  and

were  aborted if the enemy proved stronger than anticipated.

Often  the  enemy were second-rate troops, Peace Brigade  or

mercenaries  or  Yuuzhan  Vong workers  with  scant  warrior

training  who fell apart into a confused muddle  once  their

yammosks  were jammed. Jaina's own rookies had been blooded,

but  they'd  been blooded in battles where great  pains  had

been taken to assure only victory.

Jaina  knew  that Twin Suns Squadron  couldn't  expect

battle on such favorable terms forever. Sooner or later  the

enemy  would launch another offensive, and then her squadron

would be up against first-line Vong warriors attacking  from

a  position  of overwhelming strength. It would  make  every

fight  her new pilots had experienced look like a playground

skirmish between children.

The knowledge that the enemy offensive would inevitably

come  kept Jaina on edge. Just because things had been going

well  was no reason to relax. In fact, she had to be  harder

than ever in order to keep her pilots from slacking off  due

to overconfidence.

Fortunately,  a few things kept Jaina  from  exploding

with  tension.  Kyp's  powerful  and  strangely  stabilizing

presence.  Jacen's otherworldly calm. Regular messages  from

her parents, from Luke and Mara . . . and from Jag Fel.

His  squadron was still hunting Yuuzhan  Vong  on  the

Hydian  Way,  and with her he shared the frustrations  of  a

veteran pilot training a large number of rookies.

She  was confused about what she should allow  Jag  to

mean  to her. She feared he was a distraction; that  if  she

let him into her life, she'd lose her edge. But then moments

would  come in which she yearned for his embrace,  felt  the

press of his phantom lips on hers . . .

It was lucky they were apart, she decided. If they were

together, the turmoil of her own thoughts and desires  might

overwhelm her.

But a part of her very much wanted to be overwhelmed.

Her  heart lurched as her cockpit displays flashed.  A

Yuuzhan  Vong  task  force had just left  hyperspace.  Seven

capital  ships  of  varying sizes, all of them  now  venting

squadrons of coralskippers. The Yuuzhan Vong defending  Duro

had called for help, but it had arrived too late.

For  a moment Jaina waited in suspense. The two forces

were  nearly  evenly matched. Kre'fey's cruisers  had  taken

little damage in their lopsided fight, and few fighters  had

been  lost. The Jedi Force-meld was an advantage  the  enemy

couldn't match. A nearly bloodless victory had been won, and

the New Republic forces were exultant. Morale was as high as

it was ever going to get. If Kre'fey gave the word, his task

force would fling itself on the enemy in absolute confidence

of victory.

Kre'fey  could win this, win two battles in  a  single

day. He had to know that.

"Cruisers  regroup,"  came the order  on  the  command

channel. "Starfighters stand by for recovery and transit  to

hyperspace."

Jaina's  felt the tension drain out of  her,  and  the

exultation, too. Kre'fey was playing it safe.

He was probably right, she thought. This might not  be

the only enemy force on its way to help Duro.

But Jaina felt disappointment. She knew the Force  was

with  her  today, and might not be on the day  of  the  next

battle.

"I believe I've found the trap I've been looking for,"

Ackbar  said. "The trap that will spell doom for the Yuuzhan

Vong." He floated in his pool at home, with Luke, Cal  Omas,

and Admiral Sow sitting in plush chairs on the rim. The room

smelled  pleasantly  of  the sea. Winter  stood  by  with  a

holoprojector.

She  switched on the projector, and a star map floated

in  the  air  over Ackbar's head. Luke knew  from  the  star

density  that  it  had  to be somewhere  in  the  Core,  but

otherwise the configurations of the stars were unfamiliar to

him.

"This is Treks One-Fifteen-W," Ackbar said, as one  of

the stars blinked against the background. "It's an old main-

sequence  star  on the outermost fringe of  the  Deep  Core,

completely unexceptionable. As you can see from the  overlay

of  our  official hyper-space route charts"-a narrow  golden

ribbon  appeared on the display, a hyperspace route  leading

to  the blinking star-"Treskov is a dead end. But if we  add

the  secret Imperial Core routes that Princess Leia  brought

back  from Bastion . . ." Four other routes appeared on  the

display, marked in red and radiating from Treskov. "You  see

that  unmarked  routes from Treskov lead  farther  into  the

Core.  One  of  these"-another blinking light-"leads  to  an

Imperial  star base code-named Tarkin's Fang. The  base  was

sealed  and evacuated at the end of the Galactic Civil  War,

but  otherwise remains intact and usable. There  is  also  a

large  cache  of supplies stored at Tarkin's Fang  that  the

Empire intended to use in the event of renewed hostilities."

"Even Tarkin's Fang is a dead end," Admiral Sow pointed

out. "If we put forces there, they could be blockaded by any

enemy who scaled the route to Treskov."

"I  agree,"  Ackbar said. "And I intend the  enemy  to

agree as well."

Perspective shifted on the holo, the display zooming to

display Treskov and its system. The fifth planet out, a  gas

giant striped in white and several shades of green, began to

wink.

"This is Ebaq, a gas giant with eleven moons. Of these,

Ebaq  Nine  was  once  exploited by  the  Deep  Core  Mining

Corporation  for  its  deposits of bronzium.  The  moon  was

opened  up  shortly after the rise of Palpatine. During  the

war  years the Empire maintained an observation post  there,

and  used Ebaq Nine as an emergency resupply point, but  the

moon is now empty."

Ackbar  ducked his head beneath the water,  refreshing

himself,  then shook stray drops from his massive  head.  "I

propose  we reoccupy the moon and use it as bait in a  trap.

We must make it an irresistible target for the Yuuzhan Vong.

And  then, once the enemy begin their assault, we  seal  off

the end and turn the Treskov system into a killing ground in

which the enemy forces are hunted down and destroyed."

Ackbar turned to Sien Sow. "Admiral, it is you who must

commit the forces necessary to destroy the Yuuzhan Vong."

And  then Ackbar turned to Luke, and Luke felt a chill

run  down  his spine. "Master Skywalker," the admiral  said,

"it is for you and the Jedi to provide the bait."

"I'm calling this meeting of the High Council for  two

reasons,"  Cal  Omas said. "First, we must  discuss  Admiral

Ackbar's plan for a renewed attack against the Yuuzhan Vong.

Second,  Intelligence Director Dif Scaur has an announcement

of critical importance."

Cal looked abnormally grim. He was usually relaxed  at

meetings,  joking  as he slouched his lanky  body  into  its

scat. Today he was erect and businesslike. Clearly something

important was at hand.

The council members weren't as crowded as they had been

at  their  first meeting, even though they met in  the  same

room,  with the same overlarge table. The crowding had eased

because  fewer  were present: Kyp Durron and  Saba  Sebatyne

were  at  Kashyyyk, fighting with their squadrons,  and  had

given   their   proxy  votes  to  Cilghal   and   to   Luke,

respectively.

"I  have no intention of communicating the details  of

Admiral  Ackbar's  plan  to this council,"  Cal  said.  "Its

usefulness  depends  on  secrecy,  and  in  any  case   it's

irrelevant to the case I wish to put. Ackhar's plan requires

detaching  large  forces from their current deployments  and

using  them  against the Yuuzhan Vong. This will  mean  that

many  of  our  squadrons now engaged in the defense  of  our

worlds won't be available in case the Yuuzhan Vong choose to

attack."

[If  our  fleets  are  on  the  offensive,]  Triebakk

proclaimed,  [the Vong will have more urgent  things  to  do

than to than to attack our planets. ]

"Sir, our briefings have indicated that many more ships

will  be  available in six standard months or so," said  the

soft  voice  of Ta'laam Ranth. "Would it not be possible  to

delay our offensive until we can both defend our planets and

attack the enemy?"

"My  Gotal colleague has a point," Releqy A'Kla  said.

"It  may  be possible to delay any offensive until  we  have

greater numbers."

"There's  a  time limit on the admiral's  plan,"  Luke

said. "We currently have a technological advantage over  the

enemy.  We don't know how long this advantage will last,  so

the admiral wants to move now."

"Delaying six months," Sien Sow said, "means  the  war

goes  on six months longer than it would otherwise. Six more

months of killing and uncertainty and expense." He looked at

Ta'laam  Ranth. "Thousands of worlds are under  threat.  The

fleet can't defend them all, even with six months' worth  of

reinforcements."

"My colleague's arguments are logical," the Gotal said.

"I concede that an attack is logical."

"If  I  may interrupt," Dif Scaur said, "I'd  like  to

bring  my  own business before the council. It  may  have  a

direct bearing on whether the New Republic wishes to  go  on

the offensive or not."

Luke looked at the thin man with care. When Ackbar had

first  presented  his plan, Scaur had been meticulous  about

discovering  Ackbar's timing. This had made Luke suspicious,

and   Luke's  suspicions  had  been  confirmed  at   Council

meetings. Scaur clearly had an agenda of his own, and it was

an agenda with a timetable.

Scaur looked from one council member to the next. "I am

now  able  to reveal the existence of a secret unit  in  New

Republic  Intelligence called 'Alpha Red.' It is  headed  by

Oji  Eicroth,  a xenobiologist formerly belonging  to  Alpha

Blue, another secret unit charged with Yuuzhan Vong affairs.

Since  the  beginning of the war, Alpha Red  has  undertaken

covert  research on Yuuzhan Vong biology with the assistance

of a team of scientists supplied by the Chiss."

Here it is, Luke thought. Something big, something very

quiet  that  had  gone on for at least two years  without  a

breath of it getting out. In a government as porous as Borsk

Fey'lya's, that was a major accomplishment.

Unless Fey'lya himself didn't know, Luke thought.

"Why Chiss?" Sien Sow asked, bewildered.

"The  Chiss come from a hidden, remote section of  the

galaxy  far  from the Yuuzhan Vong invasion  routes,"  Scaur

said.  "It  was  highly unlikely that the enemy  would  have

infiltrated them."

Which  means, Luke thought, that Scaur's  had  contact

with  the  Chiss for some time. He knew in advance  that  he

could count on them to deliver.

"Our  xenobiologists and geneticists have investigated

Yuuzhan Vong genetics," Scaur continued. He placed his pale,

thin  hands  on the table before him. "They have  located  a

unique  genetic  signature in Yuuzhan  Vong  DNA,  something

common  to  all Yuuzhan Vong species-the plants, the  living

buildings and ships, the animals, the Vong themselves.  This

genetic   signature  is  unknown  in  any   plant,   animal,

bacterial, or viral life within our own galaxy."

"You've developed a weapon," Ta'laam Ranth said.  Luke

could   feel  surprise  among  the  other  council  members,

followed by apprehension and dread.

"Yes." Cal's face was grim. "We have a weapon."

"A  biological weapon," Dif Scaur said.  "An  airborne

weapon  that  will attack only those plants or animals  that

possess the genetic signature of the extragalactic Vong.  If

the  weapon  is  dispersed efficiently on enemy  worlds,  we

calculate that the menace of the Yuuzhan Vong will be  ended

within four weeks at the most-probably three."

"What do you mean, ended?" asked Cilghal.

"I  mean  the  Vong will be dead,"  Scaur  said.  "And

everything  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  brought  with  them-all  the

plants,  all  the  buildings, all the ships."  He  shrugged.

"There may be some survivors in remote areas. But they'll be

infected  if they travel to Vong worlds, and if they  don't,

they can be hunted down." He glanced briefly at each of  the

council members.

"Biological  weapons are notoriously  capricious,"  he

continued. "Normally I would never recommend their use on  a

dispersed population like the Vong, but this weapon will  be

so  effective that I consider it an exception  to  my  usual

rule.  The  Vong  can't escape it. It will attach  to  their

genetics. There is a latency period of four or five days  in

which they will feel no effects, but will be infectious  and

contaminate everyone and everything they contact. After that

they  will  begin to break down on the cellular  level-their

living  tissue  will dissolve into a fluid,  and  even  that

fluid  will  be infectious. They will be infected  by  their

ships. Their weapons. Their armor. Their homes. Their  food.

Everything in their environment will carry the disease. Once

the breakdown starts, the Vong will be dead within three  or

four days."

Luke let the horror sink in. The horror was followed by

anger-anger  is  a  useful emotion,  he  remembered  Vergere

telling him-and he turned to Cal Omas.

"How long have you known about this?" he asked.

"Since I was sworn in," Cal said.

"Almost three months."

Cal  turned his own eyes to Luke.  "Master  Skywalker,

I'm extremely sorry. But you understand that the secrecy  of

this project was paramount."

"I  understand  your  reasoning,"  Luke  said.  And  I

disagree,  he  thought  coldly.  Because  if  I'd  known  in

advance, I could have prepared arguments against this. As it

is, I can only make the arguments that occur to me, and hope

the Force will be with me.

He  looked  at Dif Scaur. "You want to use  the  Great

River to distribute this weapon, don't you?" he said.

Scaur nodded. "That would be convenient."

Luke shook his head. "Jedi won't touch this. I ask you

not to require it of us."

Scaur seemed unsurprised. "The Great River isn't vital

to  the  project. Our own intelligence networks  now  extend

into  Vong  space.  The  fleet can  deliver  the  weapon  on

missiles to enemy fleet targets, to space facilities, or  to

planets. And the Bothans made Alpha Red much more convenient

when they declared ar'krai on the Vong-the Bothan spynet  is

famously  efficient,  and Alpha Red will  settle  all  their

goals  for  this war." He shrugged his thin shoulders.  "The

Yuuzhan Vong themselves will do most of the distribution  on

our  behalf,  as their infected personnel and  ships  travel

from world to world."

Ta'laam  Ranth  turned his red eyes to  Luke.  "Master

Skywalker obviously objects to this plan," he said. "I  wish

he'd explain his protests."

Luke looked at the others. "The Jedi exist to preserve

life. This slaughter of entire species runs contrary to  our

principles."  He took a breath and summoned  the  Force  and

hoped that it would make his arguments as brilliant as  they

needed to be.

"Let  me  point out that the Yuuzhan Vong are  not  so

completely  unlike us," he said. "They are  intelligent  and

educable. If you took one of their young and raised it,  the

child wouldn't be unlike one of ours-their evil isn't innate

to  the  species. It's their government and  their  religion

that have made them aggressive, and it should be our task to

defeat  that  government and religion, not to wipe  out  the

common  people  who have had no choice but to  follow  their

leaders,"

"The Yuuzhan Vong have done this to our worlds," Ayddar

Nylykerka  pointed out. "They've sown our worlds with  life-

forms that have killed everyone on the planet."

"Which is simply another point against the use of this

weapon."  Ta'laam Ranth's declaration surprised everyone  at

the  table.  "If we unleash this weapon against  them,  they

could  retaliate against us. We could lose  worlds  to  Vong

biologicals."

"Alpha Red is a defense against such an attack," Scaur

said.  "Alpha Red would destroy any biological  assault  the

Vong could launch."

Triebakk gave a roar that brought silence to the table.

[I  know  something  of  science,] he said  finally  through

translation. [I know the word blowback.] He glanced  at  the

others. [For those who don't know this term, it describes  a

weapon's unanticipated side effects turning on the  user.  ]

He looked at Dif Scaur. [You're planning to distribute Alpha

Red  throughout  Vong  space. Billions  upon  billions  upon

billions of live bacteria-or viruses, or whatever Alpha  Red

is-cast  loose  on viable ecosystems.] He shook  his  shaggy

head. [You can't tell me that Alpha Red won't mutate, not in

all those replications. And you can't assure me that one  of

those mutations won't be harmful to us. Blowback could  kill

all of us, ]

"The  Chiss assure me this is highly unlikely,"  Scaur

said.

"Unlikely," Luke said. "Not impossible."

Scaur  shrugged.  "If  this  is  a  worry,  we  could

quarantine  Vong  worlds until we can assure  they're  safe.

Refugees  will  be  upset at not being  able  to  move  home

immediately, but once victory is achieved, we should be able

to pacify them."

Scaur  had anticipated every argument. He'd had months

to prepare this. Luke had only this moment.

"You   haven't  spoken  of  Yuuzhan  Vong  biological

capabilities," Luke said.

Scaur  raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand,  Master

Skywalker."

"The   Yuuzhan   Vong   have  formidable   biological

knowledge," Luke said. "They do everything through  biotech.

Can  you  tell  me  they haven't anticipated  this  form  of

attack? How do you know they aren't ready for it? How do you

know  that once they sec we're ready to commit genocide  and

ecocide both, they won't retaliate in kind?"

for the first time, Scaur seemed at a loss. "We see no

sign of it."

[You  don't  understand everything  about  the  Vong,]

Triebakk said. [My guess is that you have at best a  cursory

knowledge of their immune systems. What if they're ready for

you?

Scaur hesitated. A corner of his eye twitched. "We have

no evidence to show anything of the sort."

"Have you looked?" Luke asked.

Scaur  seemed nettled. "Of course. We've captured  and

examined  shaper facilities. We have a decent  knowledge  of

the  weapons  they've used against us. We've captured  their

ships and examined them."

"Our  knowledge  of  the enemy is deficient,"  Ta'laam

Ranth  said. His double-horned head turned slowly  left  and

right, scanning the table. "Clearly it would be illogical to

proceed with this plan."

Dif  Scaur's face tautened, only increasing the death-

mask  effect.  "The weapon is fully tested," he  said.  "And

that includes on live subjects." He raised a hand to cut off

Luke's  explosion of protest. "Warrior prisoners," he  said.

"We  have to keep the warriors unconscious after we  capture

them,  because  the  second they wake  they  try  to  commit

suicide.  We  infected  a small number  of  these  with  the

weapon.  The  weapon  . . ." He took a breath.  "The  weapon

works. I regretted extremely the necessity of having  to  do

this,  but  a  test was required, and their deaths  were  as

painless and humane as we could make them." He put his hands

on  the table before him. "I assure everyone here that Alpha

Red will work, and will do everything that is promised."

"This is unconscionable," Luke said. Never had he felt

such  cold  rage.  "This is something Palpatine  might  have

done."

Dif Scaur gave him a furious glance. "No, this is  not

what  Palpatine would have done," he said. "Palpatine  would

have tested the weapon on the population of an entire world,

and  used  it  as  a terror weapon to keep other  worlds  in

subjugation.  I ask Master Sky-walker to avoid  such  odious

comparisons."

There was a long moment of silence, broken by Cal.

"Perhaps  we should vote, then," Cal said.  "Those  in

favor?"

Dif Scaur's hand went up first. Then Nylykerka's. Then,

with hesitation, the hand of Sien Sow.

Luke kept his hands on the table. So did all the Jedi.

"I cast Saba Sebatyne's proxy against the motion," he said.

"And I cast Kyp Durron's," Cilghal echoed.

"The motion fails," Releqy A'Kla said.

Then Cal Omas turned to Luke. There was regret in  his

eyes.  'I'm sorry, Luke," he said, "but in a war that  we're

losing,   we  can't  afford  to  throw  away  any   weapons.

Particularly  one  that  will  end  so  much  suffering  and

heartache  for  our people." He turned to Dif  Scaur.  "This

council  is advisory, not legislative. As Chief of State,  I

order Dif Scaur to continue the Alpha Red project."

Luke  sat  stunned. Dif Scaur looked at his  hands  in

order to hide the cold triumph in his eyes.

Sorrow dug deep furrows into Cal's brows. "This  is  a

tragedy  in  every way," he said. "But our  only  choice  is

between  one tragedy and another, and I prefer to  make  the

Vong's  story  a  tragedy and not ours." He  looked  at  Dif

Scaur. "When can you have your weapon ready?"

"There  is  only  a small sample of  the  material  at

present,"  Scaur said. "We'll need to produce much more-tons

at  least.  The  secure Alpha Red facility is  unsuited  for

producing  such quantities." He turned to Cal.  "There's  an

old Nebulon-B frigate in orbit above Mon Calamari, used as a

hospital  ship.  If  we  could shift  the  patients  to  the

surface,  Alpha  Red  could take  advantage  of  the  ship's

isolation  and  sterile environment. Once we  get  there,  I

anticipate  enough product can be made to begin distribution

within two weeks."

Cal  turned  to the others. "In that case,"  he  said,

"we'll postpone implementation of Admiral Ackbar's offensive

plans. We may as well stay on the defensive until Alpha  Red

wins  the war." He looked at the others. "Of course, no  one

is  to  speak  of this matter until the end of the  war.  If

then."

He brought the council meeting to a swift end. He cast

one  regretful glance at Luke, then stood and made his rapid

way out, followed with equal rapidity by Dif Scaur.

Feeling a hundred years old, Luke rose slowly from the

table. Triebakk and the Jedi came to stand beside him.

"What can we do?" Cilghal asked.

Luke forced a casual shrug. "Try to change Cal's mind.

We have a couple of weeks at least."

[If  there is more that you wish to do . . .] Triebakk

left the thought unfinished.

Luke shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but no."

If Luke did anything, he would do it himself, and take

the responsibility on himself alone.

But  he  knew  that  if he did, he  would  throw  away

everything  he'd  worked  for in the  course  of  his  long,

exacting life.

Luke  returned  home  after the meeting  of  the  High

Council  with  dread and anger warring in his mind.  Nothing

could be done as long as he was in this state, so he sat  on

the  floor and began to apply relaxing techniques to get his

thoughts and emotions under control.

He  felt  Mara  in the Force before  she  entered  the

apartment. She paused for a moment in the doorway,  her  own

force-awareness  gently enfolding him, and then  she  closed

the  door,  put  down the briefcase she  was  carrying,  and

joined  him on the floor. She sat behind him, her  hands  on

his  shoulders, and began working at the taut  shoulder  and

neck muscles. Luke surrendered to the touch, let her fingers

turn his muscles to liquid. His breath tell into rhythm with

hers.  Mara  worked  herself closer until  she  was  pressed

against  his back. Her arms went around him, and she  rested

her chin on his shoulder.

"What's the bad news?" she said.

Luke hesitated, but he knew Mara could be trusted, and

besides the horror was too vast to keep to himself. He  told

her about Alpha Red.

Mara drew back slightly as she considered the problem.

"What can we do?"

"Try to change Cal's mind."

Her chin dropped onto his shoulder again. Her voice was

a breath on his ear. "And if his mind doesn't change?"

Luke took a long breath. "I don't know. We could try to

wreck  the  project,  but unless we  killed  the  scientists

they'd  be  able  to duplicate their work. And  even  if  we

killed  the scientists, or managed to kidnap them  and  hold

them  somewhere, other scientists would be able to duplicate

the  project. The problem is that once this weapon is  known

to be possible, anyone with the proper facilities can create

it."

He shook his head. "I've worked all my life to rebuild

the  Jedi. Now we have a government that's willing  to  work

with us, that we've helped into office, that's reestablished

the council, and which we've sworn to uphold. How can I turn

on  the  New  Republic at the very first crisis?''  He  took

Mara's hand in his own. "That would finish the Jedi. We'd be

outlaws. We'd be everything that people like Fyor Rodan said

we were."

She looked at him with sad concern. "What you're saying

is  that we really can't stop Alpha Red; at best we can only

delay.  But  can  we  really stand by  and  let  this  thing

happen?"

"We can protest. We can refuse to have anything to  do

with it. That's all I can think of."

"Protest, yes. But how publicly?"

Again Luke shook his head. "Too public and the Yuuzhan

Vong find out. Then they could hit us with bioweapons first,

and it would be catastrophe."

"You  say that Triebakk knows. And that Ta'laam  Ranth

voted with you."

"Yes."

"You need to contact them. See if they can change  the

minds of others on the High Council."

Luke  nodded.  "A quiet lobbying campaign,  then.  Dif

Scaur  caught me by surprise, and I didn't have my arguments

in order." He nodded, and kissed Mara's cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She rose to her feet and helped  him

to  rise. "Kam Solusar sent new holos of Ben. Would you like

to see them?"

"Of course."

Seeing Ben speeding over the carpet on hands and knees

gave  Luke the usual mixture of sadness and joy, but  served

to shift his mood. He walked to the back of the apartment to

change  and wash before helping with dinner, and then  froze

as he saw a bundle of feathers in the spare room.

Vergere. She had been in the apartment all along.  She

was  crouched in a meditation posture, her knees  high,  her

head tucked in.

Horrified,  Luke returned to Mara. "Vergere's  in  her

room. I didn't sense her when I came in."

Mara's  green eyes widened. "I didn't either. She  was

making herself invisible again."

"Do you think she heard us?"

Mara considered. "It isn't as if we were shouting.  We

were  centimeters  from each other, practically  whispering.

How could she have heard?"

"I wouldn't put anything past her."

Mara's look hardened. "Neither would I."

"We're going to have to watch her carefully. Unless-do

you  think  we  should have Nylykerka put her  in  detention

again?"

"And  give her a chance to stage a spectacular escape?

And what if she doesn't want to go-do we fight her?"

"Watch,   then,"  Luke  decided.  "And   watch   very

carefully."

Chapter 23

Vergere  was  a model of innocence for the  next  eight

days, during which time Luke and Mara kept track of her when

she  wasn't  with  Cilghal or other Jedi. During  that  time

Luke's  lobbying  efforts were nothing but frustration.  Cal

listened  politely to his arguments, but didn't  change  his

mind.

On the morning of the ninth day, New Republic security

burst  down  the  door and swept through the apartment.  Dif

Scaur  had  come in person, flinty eyes hard  in  his  gaunt

face.  "The Chief of State wants to see you," he told  Luke.

His eyes flicked to Mara. "And Mara may come as well."

Cal  Omas  was  in  his office. He  was  unshaven  and

disheveled and had clearly just risen from bed. As Dif Scaur

marched  Luke  and Mara into the office, Cal  stared  for  a

moment  at  a  fragrant fruit-filled pastry  that  had  been

provided for his breakfast, and then with a look of  disgust

swept  it  from  his desk. He looked at Luke  with  eyes  of

stone.

"Where's Vergere?"

"We  saw  her tonight, in her room," Luke said.  "Just

before bed."

"She's not in her room now," Cal said. "We don't  know

where she is."

Luke took a deep breath. "What has she done?"

"As if you didn't know," Dif Scaur breathed from behind

Luke's shoulder.

"Vergere has sabotaged Alpha Red," Cal said.

Luke's mouth went dry. "Sabotaged it how?"

"The Alpha Red team was in the process of moving to the

Nebulon-B cruiser in orbit. Somehow Vergere got on board  in

the confusion. She's wiped the records, and somehow she's  .

, . altered . . . the weapon."

"Altered?" Luke echoed.

"Rendered it ineffective. We don't know how."

Through her tears, Luke thought. She could modify  the

weapon at the molecular level.

"And  she's  rendered  three  of  my  security  guards

unconscious," Dif Scaur added.

Mara turned to him. "They're all right?"

"They will be."

Cal's eyes bored into Luke. "So where is she?"

"I don't know." Truthfully.

"Where would she run to?"

"Back  to the Vong, of course," Dif Scaur said. "She's

been working for them all along."

"I-I  don't think so," Luke said. "I think Vergere  is

entirely on her own."

"She  doesn't owe the Yuuzhan Vong her allegiance  any

more  than we do," Mara added. "She's a servant of  the  Old

Republic, not the New."

"So tell us why the Old Republic wants the Yuuzhan Vong

to win the war!" Dif Scaur shouted.

"She  doesn't," Luke said. "She just doesn't  want  an

atrocity like Alpha Red to be unleashed."

"And  who  told her about the atrocity,  then?"  Cal's

voice was cold. "Who broke security?"

Luke  gathered  himself for the  admission,  but  Mara

forestalled him.

"We didn't tell her," she said. "If she found out, she

found out on her own."

True enough, Luke decided.

"But  how?"  Scaur demanded. "You had no documents  to

take  home,  no recordings . . . unless," his  voice  turned

suspicious, "you surreptitiously made one."

"I didn't," Luke said.

Cal  looked at him for a long moment, then looked down

at  his  desk.  "That's what Vergere herself confirmed."  He

scratched  his  bristly chin. "She left a note  saying  that

something a scientist said made her suspicious and that  she

followed  up  her  suspicions. She  specifically  exonerated

you."

"But  then she would," Scaur said. "Especially if  she

did this under your orders."

"I  gave no orders," Luke said. He felt helpless under

this  kind  of suspicion; there was no way to prove  himself

innocent.  He  looked at Cal. "I hadn't given up  trying  to

talk you out of it."

"Sir." Dif Scaur spoke to Cal. "If she goes back to the

Vong  with  Alpha Red, then the New Republic is in jeopardy.

The enemy will know our capabilities, and they'll have to do

whatever  they  can to destroy us before we can  revive  the

Alpha Red project."

"The  Skywalkers  think she won't go  to  the  Yuuzhan

Vong," Cal said.

"They've been wrong up until now," Scaur said. "And in

any case we can't afford to take the chance."

"True." Cal's eyes moved restlessly over his desk. "All

right  then."  He looked at Scaur. "You need to  reestablish

Alpha  Red  at... a safer location . . . and have  the  team

duplicate their original work. That will take how long?"

"At least three months. Probably four."

Cal nodded. He turned to Luke. "We'll move on Ackbar's

plan  immediately.  If the Vong are responding  to  Ackbar's

moves,  then maybe they won't have time to kill the rest  of

us."

"Yes,   sir,"  Luke  said.  His  mind   buzzed   with

calculation.

It  would be three or four months before Alpha Red was

unleashed.

That meant Luke had three months to win the war.

If  the enemy were on the edge of defeat, then perhaps

Cal wouldn't feel it necessary to wipe the Yuuzhan Vong from

existence.

The Jedi were his eyes and ears. Formations hovered in

Jacen's  mind: lumbering transports, weapon-studded  capital

ships, racing squadrons of starfighters.

It was a fleet exercise, featuring a force aided by the

Jedi meld against a superior force unaided by the Jedi.  The

Force  glowed  in Jacen like a flame, and he maneuvered  the

friendly  squadrons  like elements  in  a  gigantic  puzzle,

trying to sense what would happen many moves in advance .  .

.

The  opposing  fleet  made its  move.  As  the  fleets

clashed,  powered-down lasers flashing as computers launched

simulated  missiles, the picture in Jacen's head  seemed  to

expand,  information arriving in larger and  larger  bundles

until  he  strained to keep up with it all.  He  felt  sweat

trickle   down   the  bridge  of  his  nose.   The   picture

deteriorated into frantic, busy hash, punctuated only rarely

by moments of clarity.

The meld always broke down when the situation grew too

complex.  Jacen could contain and control a large number  of

Jedi,  like  those engaged on the raid at Duro,  but  beyond

that  his abilities faded. This was frustrating, because  he

always  sensed  that  comprehension was  possible,  if  just

beyond his reach. If only there were more Jedi in the  link.

If only he were more clever.

Still, his preliminary maneuvering had put the fleet in

good shape, and as the battle went on he was able to achieve

some  flashes of insight that made sense out of  the  chaos.

When  the  exercise  ended,  the opposition's  advantage  in

numbers  had  been annulled, and the exchange  of  simulated

"casualties" had favored Jacen's force.

"Try  not  to  get me killed next time, Solo."  Corran

Horn, whose commitment to the fight had been mistimed,  sent

a dour message over the comlink.

Jacen  sent an apology. He had to get better at  this.

Next time the missiles wouldn't be simulated.

"Splendid  work,  Jacen!" Out  of  the  Force  and  on

Ralroost's tactical command center, Admiral Kre'fey's cream-

colored body bounced on the balls of its feet. "Next battle,

we're going to hammer diem!" The Bothan punched his palm  by

way of emphasis.

"I hope so," Jacen said.

He  had  to  get better at this. Too many people  were

counting on him.

It  had  become a custom for the Jedi to dine together

after the exercise. They reviewed the maneuvers, the way the

meld   had   worked  or  failed  to  work,   and   suggested

improvements.  After the group broke up,  Jacen  sought  out

Tahiri Veila.

"You're doing well?" he asked.

She frowned. "I'm working hard."

It  was the truth. Since Anakin's death she had  grown

serious, almost grim in the way that she pursued her  goals,

a  considerable change from the impetuous, fiery girl  Jacen

remembered from the Jedi academy.

"I wonder if I might ask you a question," Jacen said.

"Of course."

"I  wonder if-since you came back from capture-whether

you've  ever  felt  the ability to, ah.  sense  the  Yuuzhan

Vong."

Tahiri was startled. "No. Why do you ask?" She brushed

the blond hair from her face.

Jacen  explained about his own capture,  and  how  the

implanted  slave seed had given him the ability  to  connect

telepathically with the Yuuzhan Vong.

Tahiri shivered. "No, I've never experienced that, and

I'm glad. That must be awful."

"It's  ... all right. It's helped me understand them."

He  looked  at  her. "And it can be useful in detecting  the

enemy,   and   in   controlling  their  bioweapons."   Jacen

hesitated.  "The truth is, I was wondering if  it  might  be

possible to teach the Vongsense to someone else."

Tahiri  took a step back, her eyes widening. "And  you

want  to  see if I can contact the Yuuzhan Vong through  the

Force?"

"No,  not through the Force. It's a different sort  of

bond."

"Through their-" Her face twisted. "-slave implants."

"Yes."

"You  know that I hate them." Her eyes burned fiercely

into  Jacen's. "I hate them. I know I'm a Jedi and  I'm  not

supposed to hate anyone, but I can't help it. Not after what

they've done."

Jacen  nodded. "I understand. I don't want to put  you

through  anything that will make you uncomfortable, or  that

will bring back bad memories."

"All right, then." She nodded. "I'm sorry, Jacen."

"That's fine."

Tahiri began to walk away, and then she hesitated, and

turned. "Is it important?" she asked.

"I  can't  say,"  Jacen said. "But it  will  help  you

understand the Yuuzhan Vong. And perhaps when you understand

them you won't hate them so much."

"I want to hate them." Her lips pressed together in  a

firm, defiant line.

"It  takes a lot of energy to hate," Jacen said.  "You

might have other uses for that energy, Tahiri."

Again  she  hesitated. "All right," she said  finally.

"I'll give it a try."

They  went  to Jacen's small cabin, sat in  meditation

posture  on the floor, and touched hands. He sensed Tallin's

expanding Force-awareness, and he said, "No, not the  Force.

This power comes from somewhere else."

Tahiri's  mouth curled in annoyance. "What  do  I  do,

then?"

"Try to look into--into an empty place where the slave

implants were. I'll try to guide you."

Jacen could find the empty place himself, and he could

feel,  at the edge of his awareness, the World Brain he  had

left behind on Coruscant. He tried to build a bridge between

Tahiri  and the dhuryam, but he couldn't seem to  bring  the

two  closer  together, and he could sense  Tahiri's  growing

frustration.

The  problem  was that there weren't any Yuuzhan  Vong

nearby. If there were, perhaps Tahiri wouldn't have  such  a

hard time.

"I'm  sort  of  glad  it  didn't  work,"  Tahiri  said

afterward.

"Would you mind trying again later?"

She  grimaced. "I suppose we could try.  But  I'm  not

looking forward to it."

After  she'd left, Jacen had begun to record a holovid

letter to his parents when he realized he wasn't alone.  Not

even in his own mind.

Vergere? he probed.

In  return Jacen received impressions, pictures  of  a

green treetop landscape that he recognized as Kashyyyk,  and

a strong, nonverbal command to come to the planet.

And this was followed by an equally powerful compulsion

to silence.

A secret meeting? Jacen sent. There was no reply.

Jacen  received permission to leave Ralroost from  the

officer  of  the  deck and took his X-wing to  the  surface,

homing on Vergere's presence in the Force.

She  had chosen a small, remote island for the meeting

place. No Wookiees lived there, but the lower depths of  the

wroshyr forest was filled with the usual deadly native life-

forms.

The  meeting place was marked by an old four-passenger

Trilon shuttle perched at a dangerous angle in the uppermost

branches of one of the wroshyr trees. Jacen floated  the  X-

wing  toward  it on his repulsorlifts and carefully  dropped

the  starfighter onto an interwoven net of branches.  As  he

shut  off  the repulsorlifts and let the branches  take  the

fighter's weight, he was surprised by the sight of  a  four-

meter-long, many-toothed serpent flying past his canopy.

"Their instinct is to eat birds," Vergere explained as

Jacen climbed out of the cockpit and lowered himself to  one

of the massive wroshyr limbs. "I try to discourage them, but

they are unintelligent and thus persistent."

As Vergere spoke, another, larger snake was torn free,

in  a shower of green foliage, from an overhanging limb  and

went  whipping  through the air and over the green  horizon.

"If  I  throw them into the sea," Vergere said,  "it  delays

their return, but they do come back."

The branch swayed under Jacen's feet. It was wide as a

highway,  but  the motion was unsettling.  "Can't  you  make

yourself small?" he asked.

"They don't detect me in the Force. I think they smell

me."

"I'm  good with animals. Let me try." He expanded  his

awareness of the Force to include the fauna of the  treetops

and  detected the primitive, purposeful minds of several  of

the  snakes, all of them stalking through the foliage toward

Vergere.  Jacen tried turning off the instinct to hunt,  but

the  compulsion was hardwired into them, and he failed. Then

he  suggested to them that better, more appetizing food  was

to be found elsewhere, and they turned away in search of it.

"Nicely done," Vergere said. "And it is a tactic  that

can be applied to species other than snakes."

Jacen looked at her. "Why are you here?"

Vergere's feathery antennae crooked forward and  back,

as  if  scanning  the air for invaders. "I  sense  no  other

presence," she said.

"Did you run away? Is Nylykerka after you?"

"Nylykerka and many others. Your Master Skywalker among

them, I think."

Jacen took a deep breath. He squatted on his heels  on

the wide branch, and said, "You'd better tell me."

Vergere told her story. Jacen was horrified. Not simply

because Alpha Red was a weapon for mass murder, but because,

thanks  to the slave seed tendrils coiled about his  nerves,

he now possessed an empathy for the Yuuzhan Vong. It was not

only  the  human  part  of his mind  that  quailed  at  this

revelation, but the part that understood the enemy.

Vergere looked at him. "I have given the Jedi  only  a

few months to respond to this horror," she said.

"They can rebuild the weapon?"

"Of course."

He shrugged helplessly. "What should I do?"

"I can't advise you."

"Should  I tell people? We could put pressure  on  the

government, but that would tell the Yuuzhan Vong,  and-"  He

shrank before the consequences of that decision, the Yuuzhan

Vong  realizing that they were in a war of extinction rather

than a war of conquest.

Her  dark, tilted eyes gazed into his. "Since I  first

met  you, I have had an intuition that you were in some  way

bound up with the fate of the Yuuzhan Vong. Perhaps this  is

the moment I've been anticipating."

Jacen  looked  at her in surprise. "The  fate  of  the

Yuuzhan  Vong? Is that why you've taken such an interest  in

me?"

Her  eyes narrowed. "Beyond any other interest I would

have taken in a Jedi in distress, yes."

He rose to his feet. The huge branch swayed beneath him

as  a breeze ruffled the leaves. "What arc you going to do?"

he asked.

Her  wide  mouth twisted in thought.  "There  isn't  a

general search for me, or you'd have heard. That means  that

only  the Intelligence people will be looking for me,  which

will make it easier to evade them." She craned her long neck

to  look at her shuttle. "My craft came to Mon Calamari with

a  family  of  refugees who sold it to buy food.  Sooner  or

later the dealer to whom they sold it will notice that  it's

missing  from its orbit, and then there'll be a search,  but

that  won't matter-the hyperdrive engines are ready to  give

up  the  ghost, and I'll be lucky to get out of the Kashyyyk

system."  She turned to Jacen. "Can you give me  a  ride  in

your fighter?"

"Certainly. But to where?"

"To your ship, perhaps?"

He blinked at her. "It's an assault cruiser," he said.

"It's got over a thousand crew."

"It's  easy  to  pass  as one among  thousands,  yes?"

Vergere  smiled.  "And  I would be  less  conspicuous  in  a

uniform, no?"

"No!" Jacen said. He decided to pass over the unlikely

chance  that  he'd  find a uniform that would  fit  Vergere.

"Most  of  the crew are Bothans. The starfighter pilots  are

from all over, but there aren't that many of them, and-"

"No  doubt there are supply vessels coming on and  off

the  ship all the time," Vergere said. "Cargo coming on  and

off,  and  being placed in storage. And dispatch boats,  and

shuttles  to other ships. Hundreds of escape pods. With  all

that  confusion, surely one single individual could  find  a

way off the ship and to safety." She smiled. "I am very good

at being invisible."

Jacen sighed. He sensed an inevitability in the offing.

"Let's hope there aren't any big snakes aboard," he said.

"I'm glad to know that creepy little bird is gone," Han

said. "It was all I could do not to wring her neck for  what

she  did to Jacen." He looked around. "Where did Vergere  go

to, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Luke said. He quelled the uneasiness in

his  mind  and asked Han and Leia to sit. The pair took  the

seats offered and then the drinks that Mara brought into the

room.  Mara took her own drink and sat on the sofa  next  to

Luke. He put his arm around her.

"I  wanted  to  tell you that I'll be  leaving  for  a

while,"  Luke said. "I'm going across the galaxy to  Fondor,

and I'm not sure when I'll be back."

Leia  looked  at him. "Is it something  you  can  talk

about?"

"I'm going to Garm Bel Iblis," Luke said. "He commands

at  Fondor,  and  since  the fall  of  Coruscant  he's  been

operating independently of Sien Sow and the military."

"Just  like he did in the Rebellion," Han  said.  "Bel

Iblis likes running his own show."

"When he was given orders, at first he responded  that

the  situation in his sector was different than the  Supreme

Commander  thought, and therefore he declined to carry  them

out. Lately he hasn't been responding to orders at all."

"You brought him into the fold once before," Leia said.

"I guess Cal thinks you can do it again."

"It  hasn't been important until now," Luke said. "Bel

Iblis  has been doing more or less what he should have  been

doing  anyway, defending his sector and harassing the enemy.

But  now  Ackbar has a plan to win the war, and we  need  to

know whether Bel Iblis will be in at the finish."

Leia  considered  the question.  "He'll  be  in.  He's

headstrong  and independent, but he'll be on the right  side

when it counts."

"I hope so," Mara said. "I'd hare for Luke to make that

long trip for nothing."

Leia gave Luke a curious look. "This mission is taking

you away from the Jedi-I mean, the High Council. Can you  be

absent for such a long time?"

"I'll  give  my proxy to Cilghal," Luke said.  "She'll

speak  and vote for me, and for Saba, who gave me her  proxy

when she joined."

The  strain  between Luke and Cal hadn't affected  the

running  of the High Council. Cal seemed perfectly friendly,

if  a  bit  reserved.  But he no longer shared  confidential

information  with Luke-if there were military  or  political

secrets  that Luke wasn't already a part of, then they  were

never mentioned in Luke's presence.

The  trust was gone. Luke didn't know whether he would

ever win it back.

Luke, for his part, still had hopes of convincing  Cal

not to use Alpha Red at all.

But  if  necessary,  Luke would poll  the  other  Jedi

members  privately. The influence of the council as a  whole

might  tip  the  balance against Dif  Scaur  and  his  plan.

Together,  they  might be able to take  a  principled  stand

against the use of the weapon.

But  that  was  for  the future.  For  now,  Luke  was

dedicated to making sure that Ackbar's plan was carried out.

If  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  were defeated,  then  the  arguments

against Alpha Red would bear all that much more weight.

Luke turned to Han. "Speaking of Ackbar," he said, "he

asked me if you'd do him a favor."

Ice  rang in Han's glass as he drained it. "Anything,"

he said.

"He'd  like you to resume your military rank and  take

command of a squadron."

Han  placed his glass firmly on the table next to  his

seat. "You know, I never did take to the military," he said.

"And the military never took to me. If Ackbar just wants  to

make both me and the fleet miserable ..."

"He'd  like  you  to  take  command  of  the  squadron

contributed  by the Smugglers' Alliance," Luke said.  "Talon

Karrde, Booster Terrik, and the Errant Venture . . . They're

a hard bunch, anarchic and rebellious and undisciplined. The

ships are a heterogeneous jumble, and any tactics would have

to be improvised by the squadron commander."

Leia,  a little grim, turned to her husband. "I'd  use

the word never if I were you."

"Lando's part of it, too," Luke added. "You know  he'd

make  mincemeat out of a regular fleet officer.  Anyone  who

could  control that bunch would have to be as rough as  they

are, and as experienced. The commander would have to be able

to fly the pants off any of them, and-"

"And  whip  fifty  times his  weight  in  angry  krayt

dragons," Leia finished. She looked at Han. "You see what my

brother's  trying to do, don't you?" she said. "He's  trying

to flatter you into taking this job. He's trying to tell you

that  only Han Solo could possibly be tough enough for  this

assignment."

Han smiled. "He's right of course," he said. "But  the

word never is still on the tip of my tongue."

Luke sighed. "You're going to force me to fight dirty,"

he said. "I really didn't want to do this."

Han laughed. "Hit me with your best shot."

Luke  made an apologetic gesture. "During the upcoming

operation,  the  Smugglers' Alliance  squadron  will  be  in

support  of  Admiral  Kre'fey's fleet. Which  includes  your

children. Sorry."

Han looked stricken. Leia narrowed her eyes and glared

at  her  brother.  "That is really underhanded,  Luke,"  she

said.

"I know," Luke said.

"We  had  both gotten out. We were going to have  time

together. We were going to be happy"''

"Sorry."

"And now . . .'' She clenched her fists. "Now it's all

up to us again, isn't it?"

Luke smiled. "The fate of the galaxy may well rest  in

your hands. Yes. It's unfair, but that's the way it is."

Leia  raised  a fist. "When this is over,"  she  said,

"remind me to hit you."

Luke raised his hands peaceably. "Kyp's first in line,"

he  said,  "but  when this is over, take all the  shots  you

want."

Jacen was returning from Kashyyyk to the Ralroost when

he was commed by Kyp Durron.

"I  need  all Jedi on Man Adapyne for a meeting.  It's

urgent."

"Can I wash and change first?" Jacen asked. "I've been

down on Kashyyyk, and I'm kind of a mess."

"I said urgent? Kyp snapped. "We need you now."

Jacen considered the small figure of Vergere, who  was

crammed  into  the cockpit on his lap. better make  yourself

very small, he thought.

"Acknowledged," he said.

Vergere  managed to avoid discovery when Jacen  landed

his  X-wing  in  the cruiser's capacious docking  bays.  She

remained  in  the cockpit, ducking down out of sight  as  he

dropped to the deck and went in search of his fellow Jedi.

Kyp, seated at the end of one of the mess tables,  had

assembled the other Jedi in a corner of the officers'  mess.

Jacen  entered  cautiously and saw Corran  Horn  along  with

Jaina, Tesar, Lowbacca, and the other newly made Jedi. As he

entered,  Saba  and her squadron of Wild Knights  turned  to

stare at him with glittering reptilian eyes. Jacen tried  to

calm  the  panic that fluttered in his rib cage,  and  said,

"What's going on?"

Kyp  looked  at  him. "I have an urgent  message  from

Master Skywalker. He said that Vergere has run away from Mon

Calamari, and if we see her we're to detain her and take her

to Mon Calamari or to New Republic Intelligence."

Even  though he'd known approximately what the message

would  contain,  still  Jacen felt an  unpleasant  surge  of

emotion at Kyp's words.

In the last few months, Jacen had become an expert  at

deception. He'd lied to the Yuuzhan Vong, and he'd  lied  to

Ganner  Rhysode in order to capture him for the  enemy.  Rut

lying to an entire room of Jedi-Jedi alongside of whom  he'd

been fighting for the last months-was a new ordeal.

"Vergere?" he said, calming himself. "What's she done?"

"Master  Skywalker  didn't  say.  But  it  has  to  be

important,  because Vergere is now our number one  priority.

If  we  have  any notion where she might be, we're  to  drop

everything and go in search of her. But we're not to  search

alone-Vergere  is to be considered dangerous and  should  be

apprehended by Jedi working as teams."

Saba Sebatyne raised a hand. "We are not to break into

packz and search the galaxy now, are we?"

"No.  We're to stay with the fleet until we hear  from

Vergere  or until we hear of her. And then we're to get  her

secured  and back where she belongs." He turned his eyes  to

Jacen, and Jacen felt a cold hand brush his spine.

"You're  closer  to her than anyone here,"  Kyp  said.

"Master Skywalker thought she might try to contact you."

"She'd have to be out of her mind to come to Kashyyyk,"

Jacen  said,  with perfect truth. "There are too  many  Jedi

here."

"Right,"  Kyp  said,  though Jacen  still  sensed  his

suspicion.  Kyp  rose  from the table. "It's  unlikely  that

we'll see her-we're all moving out, anyway."

Jacen  stood  quietly motionless on the deck.  "Moving

out?"

"Right,  brother,"  Jaina said.  "We're  on  continual

alert.  Something big's happening-the whole fleet's  getting

ready to move."

"Rumor says it's the Core," Corran Horn said. "But  we

know how accurate rumor's been in this war."

Jaina, on her way out of the meeting, slapped Jacen on

the shoulder. "See you when we get there," she said.

Wherever there is, Jacen thought.

And  wondered, now that the whole fleet was on  alert,

how he was going to get Vergere off his ship.

Chapter 24

We're  installing blastproof doors here," the  engineer

said.  "Once  you get your people inside, you can  drop  the

doors  and  be  perfectly safe for,  oh,  several  hours  at

least."

"Several hours at least," Jaina repeated. In the frigid

air, her breath misted out in front of her as she spoke. She

looked  at  the  busy  droids,  which  were  lifting   huge,

clattering pneumatic hammers to widen the old mineshaft.

What no one had yet explained to her was why she would

have to seek safety from the enemy in the tunnels of Ebaq 9,

which seemed to be a perfectly useless moonlet at the end of

a twisty hyperspace passage into the Deep Core.

But  that seemed a part of the plan. Whatever the plan

was.

Ebaq 9 was abuzz with military engineers, modifying the

docking  bays  that  once held mining  shuttles,  installing

shields and a modern communications system, bringing the old

life-support  and artificial gravity systems up  to  current

specs. The engineers were protected by a reinforced squadron

under  General Farlander, forty capital ships  in  all,  far

larger than the force he'd led at Obroa-skai.

Farlander, with Jaina under his command, was  supposed

to  defend  this useless moon. But the moon was  also  being

turned  into  a giant bunker, and Jaina and the others  were

being given instruction in how to hide there.

Why  hide?  Why defend Ebaq 9 in the first place?  The

plan didn't make any sense.

Nor  did Jaina know where the rest of Traest Kre'fey's

fleet  had gone. Kre'fey, Jacen, and most of the other  Jedi

hadn't  come to Ebaq 9 with Jaina and Farlander;  they  were

off on some other mission. Jaina didn't know where.

All  she  knew  were  the drills. Maneuvers  aimed  at

readying  Farlander's squadron for defending  the  mined-out

moon,  then  more  maneuvers aimed at breaking  off  combat,

landing on the moon, and hiding deep underground.

"We'll  have  power  packs, lifesuits,  blasters,  and

ammunition  stored here," the engineer went on. "We'll  also

have dried rations and water."

"Blasters," Jaina repeated. "Ammunition." She shivered

in her heavy jacket, and the movement almost lifted her from

the  deck  in  the moonlet's light gravity.  Her  inner  ear

trembled on the edge of vertigo.

According to rumor, this plan was Ackbar's work.

Jaina  hoped not. Because that meant that  Ackbar,  as

well as his plan, was insane.

"Time to give them their first hint," Mara said.  "The

first hint of the final redoubt in the Deep Core."

Nylykerka's eyes brightened. "How much should we  tell

them?"

"Just  give  them a hint at first," Mara advised.  "We

don't  want to hand them the whole tiling. If they  put  the

pieces  together themselves, they'll believe  even  more  in

what they're learning."

"Very well," Nylykerka said.

"Perhaps the office of Senator Krall Praget could hear

about  an  emergency appropriation for a base  in  the  Deep

Core.  And you could combine that with a leak concerning  an

evacuation  drill  for the Chief of State and  the  Advisory

Council."

Nylykerka's air sac throbbed thoughtfully.  "Yes,"  he

said. "Yes, I think that might do the job."

Stars  blossomed around Jacen as Ralroost fell out  of

hyper-space.  He  sat  in front of Admiral  Kre'fey  on  the

assault  cruiser's bridge, with tactical displays  laid  out

around him.

They  were  as  deep in the Deep  Core  as  he'd  ever

ventured,  the stars packed so tightly around them  that  it

was never quite night.

"Ebaq Nine," Kre'fey said meditatively, as the moon and

its  giant  primary  appeared on the navigation  arrays.  He

turned  to  the communications officer. "Send my compliments

to  General Farlander, and request that he report aboard  at

his  earliest convenience." He turned to Jacen. "If you wish

to see your sister," he said, "you have my permission."

"Thank you, sir."

Jacen  rose from his seat and withdrew from  Ralroosts

bridge.  Kre'fey's fleet had reached the end of their  long,

erratic journey.

While Farlander's squadron had flown directly to Ebaq,

Rat-roost  and the rest of Kre'fey's fleet had been  engaged

in  a  series of raids against the enemy. On every  occasion

the  Jedi  wove their Force-meld to coordinate the attacking

forces. Wayland, Bimmisaari, Gyndine, and even Nal Hutta had

been  hit. Gyndine had been defended by a larger force  than

Kre'fey  wanted  to  tackle, but  elsewhere  the  defenders,

fighting bravely but at hopeless odds, had been destroyed.

Diversionary raids, Kre'fey had explained  after  they

were over. They were designed to show the enemy that Kre'fey

and  his  fleet were anywhere but where they were going-Ebaq

9, and the Deep Core.

Being continually in action meant that Jacen had  been

unable  to smuggle Vergere off the flagship. After two  days

of  hiding her in the cockpit of his X-wing, he'd managed to

smuggle her to his quarters. There, she'd taken up residence

in the storage area under his bunk. He'd told the droid that

cleaned his quarters to keep out.

Fortunately, he was in officers' quarters  and  had  a

room  to  himself. The worst part was getting food  to  her,

especially as she had a more-than-healthy appetite.

Another problem concerned Tahiri, who gamely continued

with  Jacen  to  try  to find out if she could  discover  in

herself  a  Vongsense. Jacen couldn't have her in his  cabin

while  Vergere was there, and produced various  excuses  why

their practice had to be somewhere else less convenient. Not

all  of  the excuses were convincing, but Tahiri  seemed  to

accept them.

They  failed in their attempt to develop any Vongsense

in  Tahiri,  though Jacen privately thought  this  might  be

because there were no Yuuzhan Vong in the vicinity.  And  if

there  were Yuuzhan Vong around, the Jedi would be  fighting

them and have no time for meditations.

The  only compensation for the perilous situation  was

that  he and Vergere, in the privacy of his cabin, were able

to share their meditations.

Leaving Ralroost, Jacen took his X-wing to the moonlet

and  met Jaina in the docking bay that had been modified  to

fly  and  arm  military craft. Twin Suns Squadron's  X-wings

were  neatly  parked there, ready to launch  on  a  moment's

notice.

Jaina looked tired. Her skin was pasty, her hair limp,

and she looked as if she hadn't been out of her jumpsuit  in

days.   Jacen   didn't   need  the  Force   to   sense   her

discouragement.

"I don't know what we're doing here.," she said, after

giving him a weary embrace. "Half the time we're drilling on

launching  to  defend  the  system,  and  the  rest  of  the

exercises have us running for bunkers."

"We've got dozens of capital ships here," Jacen  said.

"We  have all the Jedi we need to form a meld. We can  start

joint exercises."

"You all can't run for bunkers," Jaina said. She shook

her  head.  "This is worse than anything I've ever  seen.  I

hate this-I'm just nailed to this rock. It's like we have  a

huge target sign pasted on us. I'm best if I'm given freedom

of  action-freedom to be the Trickster. That's the role that

works for me."

The Trickster, Jacen thought.

I  must  inform  you  that  you  possess  insufficient

experience  of  depravity. Vergere's words  floated  to  the

front of Jacen's mind. He stared at Jaina in horror.

"I just realized what's happening," he said.

Jaina  looked at him, and apprehension dawned  in  her

brown eyes.

"You're  the bait," Jacen told her. "You're  the  bait

that  will bring the Yuuzhan Vong here." He paused, and then

nodded   as  he  followed  the  thought  to  its  inevitable

conclusion. "And I'm the bait, too."

"The  bait must be real," Ackbar said. "And  the  bait

must be seen by the enemy."

"If  necessary," Mara said, "we'll  have  one  of  our

Senators  ask whether it's true that the Chief of State  has

hidden  himself  in  a  redoubt along  with  his  twin  Jedi

bodyguards. But I think we can do it more subtly than that."

The tinkling of fountains and the scent of brine filled

the  air. Mara and Winter sat by the edge of Ackbar's  pool,

swirling  their  legs  in the water.  Ayddar  Nylykerka  had

unbent to the point of taking off his boots and dipping  his

hairy toes.

Mara reviewed her mental checklist. "The plans for the

Final Redoubt," she said. "Who's going to glimpse them?"

"We've  already used the Sullustan in Senator Praget's

office,"  Nylykerka said. "Perhaps this time we  should  try

the  Peace  Brigade contractor working in the shipyards.  He

can   be  given  a  moment  alone  with  the  plans  in  his

supervisor's office."

"We know the Vong gave him a holocam."

Mara,  Nylykerka, and the mouse droids had  located  a

third Yuuzhan Vong spy network operating in the new capital.

She  and Fleet Intelligence were keeping all three happy  by

feeding  them  information that was perfectly accurate,  but

either out of date, irrelevant, or useless. The Yuuzhan Vong

wouldn't  suspect a spy who delivered no false  information,

even if the information wasn't completely useful.

"The government needs to disappear," Winter said.

"Cal  will  say he's on a tour of military  facilities

with the heads of the Senate councils," Mara said. "And then

no one will hear from him for a while."

"And the Solo twins need to disappear as well."

"Perhaps  Senator Praget can be indignant  about  it,"

Nylykerka  suggested.  "He was an opponent  of  Leia  Organa

Solo-there's no reason why he can't dislike her children  as

well."

Mara laughed. "That's right! He can complain that Jacen

and  Jaina are hiding in some secret fortress just when  the

New Republic needs diem most!"

"Bait,"  Ackbar said. He lifted one  hand  and  let  a

stream  of sea-water pour from his palm into the pool.  "The

bait must be real. And it must be seen to be real."

The  Sword of the Jedi, Jaina thought. A sword  that's

about  to be beaten into iron filings between the hammer  of

the Vong and the anvil of Ebaq.

"Twin Squadron, prepare to withdraw on my mark. Three,

two, mark."

Jaina rotated her fighter's nose and triggered the ion

engines.  Deep in her gut she absorbed the tug  of  shifting

momentum.

Now that she understood Ackbar's plan better, she  had

to  admit it made sense. Lure the enemy into an attack on  a

supposedly hidden base guarded by Jedi elites, trap them  in

a starry dead end, annihilate them.

The  problem  was, the Yuuzhan Vong would  have  every

chance to annihilate Jaina and her squadron first.

"Request  a  shield drop on Sector  Seventeen,"  Jaina

called to Ebaq Control.

"Shields dropping in five seconds. Four. Three . . ."

The shields dropped as Twin Suns Squadron raced through

the gap. Jaina triggered the starfighter's repulsorlifts and

maneuvered into the docking bay space.

"Twin Suns Squadron, abandon fighters and rendezvous at

the entrance to Tunnel Twelve-C."

Jaina popped the canopy before the X-wing quite touched

down,  cleared  her  webbing, and used  the  Force  to  lift

herself  clear of the cockpit and drop onto the docking  bay

deck. She led the squadron in sprinting for the head of  the

giant main shaft that ran clean through the moonlet.

As  she ran she kept thinking how tired she was. Tired

of  the war, of the constant drills, tired of having so many

others who depended on her.

She was losing her edge.

"I'm  worried," Jacen told Vergere. "She's  exhausted,

she has too many responsibilities. She's on the edge."

"Of darkness?" Vergere asked.

Jacen  shook his head. "No. Of despair." He hesitated,

then spoke. "She doesn't think she'll survive the war."

They spoke in hushed tones in Jacen's cabin, Jacen  on

his  bunk,  Vergere perched on his desk chair. Most  of  the

warship's  crews  were  asleep.  After  two  days  of  joint

exercises,  Ralroost  and  most  of  Kre'fey's  fleet   hung

motionless around the old Imperial star base called Tarkin's

Fang, just a few minutes' hyperspace jump from Ebaq 9.

"To  despair  of  life is to despair  of  the  Force,"

Vergere said.

"How do I help her?"

Vergere's  head  thrust forward on its  angular  neck,

peculiarly  insistent. The chair creaked  at  the  shift  in

weight. "You are responsible for your own chokes alone."

"But if I choose to help my sister?"

"She rejects your help, does she not?"

"Maybe I haven't gone about it right. If I can find the

right way to get to her ..."

"From  here  you can do nothing." Vergere's  tone  was

unusually harsh. "Think of your own choices only."

Jacen  looked at her as a warning sang in his  nerves.

"What do you know?" he asked.

Vergere's eyes were opaque. "Of your sister? Nothing."

"And of me?"

"I know, young Jedi, that you must choose wisely." She

turned  away  from  him, toward the wall. "I  will  meditate

now."

"You're hiding something."

She  looked  at him over her shoulder.  "Always,"  she

said.

And that was all he got out of her.

The door shivered open, and Nom Anor's heart lurched at

the  sight  of  a grotesque face grinning at him  like  some

demon's  parody of a Yuuzhan Vong. He controlled himself  as

he  realized  it  was only Onimi, who broke  into  a  slash-

mouthed  grin and ushered him into the room with a bow.  The

Shamed  One  sat  in the shadows before Shimrra's  feet  and

declaimed.

"What one-eyed lurker skulks outside my door?

Behold the furtive agent, Nom Anor."

Nom  Anor imagined kicking Onimi out of his way as  he

stepped into the shadowed room. In the dim light he made out

the  huge  form of Supreme Overlord Shimrra reclining  on  a

dais of pulsing red hau polyps. Nom Anor prostrated himself,

all  too  aware  of  the  relentless scrutiny  of  Shimrra's

rainbow eyes.

He tried not to think of what he knew about the eighth

cortex  project,  about  Shimrra's cynical  manipulation  of

religion,  about the dreadful hollowness of all the  Supreme

Overlord stood for.

The  Overlord's deep voice rolled out of the darkness.

"You have news of the infidels?"

"I have, Supreme One." He rose to his feet and tried to

control the excitement in his voice. "I believe that I  have

the information that will bring about the decisive battle."

The battle that you need, he thought. The victor)' that

will give the eighth cortex project time to succeed.

Shimrra's voice was deadly calm. "Very well, Executor.

We shall await the warmaster."

"As you wish, Dread One."

Nom  Anor repressed a shiver of fear as he stood alone

before  the  Supreme  Overlord. This was  Shimrra's  private

audience chamber, not the great reception hall, and Nom Anor

was  without support here, unable to hide behind Yoog  Skell

and  a  deputation of intendants. He remembered the way  the

Supreme  Overlord's mind had overborne his own, the way  his

thoughts had been squeezed as if between two giant ringers.

Onimi  opened the door before Tsavong Lah could  touch

its membrane.

"Behold the great soldier, commander of corps,

Great Tsavong Lah, the master of war."

Tsavong  Lah  padded balefully into the  room  on  his

clawed vua'sa foot, his eyes glaring hatred at Nom Anor. The

warmaster  lowered himself to the floor before  the  Supreme

Overlord.

"At your command, Supreme One."

"Stand, Warmaster."

Tsavong Lah rose heavily to his feet, the vua'sa claws

scrabbling  for  traction. Even though he was  large  for  a

Yuuzhan Vong, the massive form of Shimrra outweighed him  by

at least half.

"May I congratulate the warmaster on his mating?"  Nom

Anor said.

"You may," Tsavong Lah said, looking at Nom Anor  with

more than his usual suspicion.

Tsavong Lah, in obedience to Shimrra's order that  all

warriors  mate,  had been seen with a subaltern.  A  beauty,

too,  known for the sublime blue of the pouches beneath  her

eyes.

"I hope that Domain Lah will soon have another addition

to its ranks," Nom Anor said.

"That," Tsavong Lah said, "is none of your business."

Shimrra vented a basso chuckle. "To business," he said.

"Report, Warmaster."

"The fleets are ready, Dread Lord. Our auxiliaries have

been  trained  and  stand ready to guard our  conquests.  We

continue to recruit mercenaries."

"None  of these elements have distinguished themselves

thus far," Shimrra pointed out.

"The  enemy raid us, that is true," Tsavong Lah  said.

"But   they  flee  whenever  we  face  them  with   anything

approaching  equal numbers. And in any case the  raids  will

cease once we resume the offensive." He formed a fist on the

end  of  the radank leg he had in place of an arm.  "We  are

ready for conquest, Supreme One! With your permission, I  am

ready  to  take  Corellia-five planets in the system,  Lord,

shipyards and the Centerpoint weapon! They are isolated, and

I  believe I can take them at small cost. They will  try  to

defend  all  five  planets, but that will stretch  them  too

thin, and I will defeat them in detail." Eagerness contorted

his  scarred  face. "May I have your permission to  advance,

Supreme One?"

A  giggle escaped Onimi's slash of a mouth. "I believe

Nom Anor has another suggestion."

Nom  Anor  felt the warmaster's anger as  Tsavong  Lah

glowered  at  him. "This one?" the warmaster said.  "I  have

followed his advice before-to my cost."

The Supreme Overlord's eyes shimmered from a bloody red

to  a sulfurous yellow. The hau polyps, shifting beneath his

weight,  gave a squelching sound and an acid stench. "Speak,

Executor," Shimrra said.

Nom  Anor  ignored  Tsavong Lah  and  turned  to  face

Shimrra.   "My  spies  inform  me  that  the  New   Republic

government has fled Mon Calamari and is hiding in  the  Deep

Core.  The warmaster and his forces may trap them there  and

crush  them.  Without a central government, the  enemy  will

fall  apart."  He  deigned to glance at  Tsavong  Lah.  "The

warmaster  may  then  be  able  to  take  Corellia   without

fighting."

Tsavong Lah's expression hesitated between triumph and

scorn.  "What  spies?" he demanded finally. "What  evidence?

How do we know this isn't a trap?"

Nom  Anor  turned  once  again  to  Shimrra.  "I  have

correlated the evidence from different independent  networks

operating  on  Mon Calamari. The plans for  what  the  enemy

calls the 'Final Redoubt' came from one source. Its location

came  from another agent. News of an emergency appropriation

to  pay  for it came from a third. The government's  absence

from  Mon  Calamari  is  public  knowledge,  though  it   is

presented  as  a kind of tour of the military."  He  smiled.

"And  the fact that the Final Redoubt is guarded by  Jedi-in

fact by the Solo twins-came from my most reliable agent."

He sensed Tsavong Lah straightening at the mention  of

the  Solo twins. Nom Anor swept one hand triumphantly across

his  chest.  "After  this  one  battle,  the  warmaster  may

sacrifice Cal Omas,

the heads of the Senate councils, the Solo twins,  and

many  other Jedi. My life in payment if I am wrong,  Supreme

One."

"As  you say, Executor," Shimrra rumbled. "If you  are

wrong, it shall be your life in payment."

Nom Anor heard the words without fear. He knew that he

was right, that the victory was within their grasp.

Shimrra leaned forward on the trembling bed of polyps.

"Now let us examine this evidence, and make our plans . . ."

Chapter 25

Alarms  blasted  Jaina from sleep.  She  slept  in  her

pilot's  coveralls because it was warmer that way-the  techs

had  never  quite  got the heating system  to  work  in  the

pilots' quarters, though strangely enough the engineers' own

heaters seemed to work perfectly well. So frequent had  been

the  drills  that  she  drew on her boots  and  grabbed  her

pilot's helmet without even opening her eyes.

She managed to pry open her gummed lids as she sprinted

down the corridor that led to the docking bays. Five strides

later  the  artificial gravity snapped off as the  moonlet's

defense  shields  went  on-power supply  problems  had  been

continuous, and judging by present evidence were unresolved.

There  had  been a rumor that someone had dropped a  decimal

point  in a requisition, and that Ebaq 9's power supply  was

one-tenth the size it was supposed to be.

Jaina used the Force to push herself forward, snagging

Vale  on  the way as her wingmate floundered in the  reduced

gravity,  unable  to  get traction for  her  boots.  In  the

docking bay, Jaina flung Vale toward her star-fighter,  then

jumped  for her own X-wing. R2-B3, which had never left  the

bay,  was already in the second seat and had the electronics

switched  on,  the repulsorlifts glowing, and the  quad  ion

engines warming.

The  astromech  tweedled a greeting as  Jaina  buckled

herself into her seat and watched the last of her squadron's

pilots  race, float, or flop their way through  the  reduced

gravity  to  their craft. When the last one had  checked  in

over the comlink, Jaina opened a channel to Ebaq Control.

"This  is  Twin  One.  Twin Suns  Squadron  ready  for

launch."

"Launch  immediately, Twin One! The shield  in  Sector

Twelve is down for you!"

Ebaq Control seemed a little overexcited this morning.

"Acknowledged." She switched to her intership  channel.  "We

have clearance, people. Let's go."

Jaina's  X-wing  swung aloft on its repulsorlifts  and

floated  toward the docking bay doors. As the massive  doors

parted  for her, she triggered the ion engines and  launched

herself into the star-strewn half night beyond.

In  space, as she waited for the others to launch  and

form on her starfighter, she looked at her displays and  saw

Farlander's capital ships hovering eight light-minutes  out,

all  of  them launching starfighters. And beyond  Farlander,

bright starbursts blossomed onto the displays, squadrons  of

enemy ships in their hundreds and thousands.

Sudden electricity snarled through her nerves, and the

sleep that clung to her was burned away.

This was not a drill. This was a force of a size  that

hadn't been seen since the attack on Coruscant.

And then Jaina felt a surge through the Force, a sense

that  a  powerful  mind  had just focused  on  her,  like  a

searchlight  on  a helpless insect. Horror shivered  through

her bones as she recognized the sensation.

Voxyn . . .

The howls of the voxyn rose around Tsavong Lah, and he

felt triumph rise in him like a glorious wind. He raised his

arms, hands clawed as if to tear the sky asunder.

Jeedai. The Jeedai were here. That skulking coward, Nom

Anor, had been right.

Above  him, blaze bugs rose into the air, hovering  in

place  to  form  a three-dimensional representation  of  the

battle,  the pitch of their wings and the flashing of  their

scarlet  abdomens  identifying the size and  status  of  all

ships in the area, friend and enemy alike.

The  voxyn howled again. Wild joy rose in Tsavong Lah.

"By  Yun-Yuuzhan!" he shouted. "The stinking  intendant  was

right!"

The New Republic forces were completely outnumbered. No

doubt  if it were possible to flee, the enemy would be doing

so. But Ebaq was in a dead end, and no retreat was possible.

They had to fight.

And should the Jeedai attempt to hide on Ebaq 9 or any

other body in this system, Tsavong Lah had the voxyn. Six of

the Jedi-hunting beasts had been off Myrkr when the rest  of

their  species was destroyed. The voxyn had very short  life

spans,  and  these were near the end of theirs, their  green

scales yellowed, their eyes filmed and weary. But as soon as

they'd  sensed  Jedi in the system they'd thrown  off  their

lethargy, and their tails lashed eagerly back and forth.

The embracing tendrils of the cognition throne writhed

atop his head, feeding him tactical data and keeping him  in

contact  with  Blood Sacrifice's yammosk,  which  wordlessly

directed   the   thousands  of  ships,  coralskippers,   and

transports  at  the warmaster's command. In a circle  around

the   cognition   throne   were  a  group   of   subalterns,

apprentices, and readers, the former with villips that  kept

Tsavong Lah in touch with his squadrons.

Tsavong Lah felt sudden confusion from the yammosk. The

enemy were jamming its signals.

This  hardly mattered, the odds were so great. Tsavong

Lah  called  out  orders that would be  transmitted  by  the

subalterns around him with their villips. "The Battle  Group

of  Yun-Yammka will advance and engage the enemy! The Battle

Groups of Yun-Txiin and Yun-Q'aah will advance on the flanks

of  the  enemy  and envelop him. The Battle Groups  of  Yun-

Yuuzhan and Yun-Harla will remain in reserve."

The battle group named for the Slayer would engage the

enemy. And then the battle groups named for the Lovers would

converge  on  the  enemy,  in a true  lovers'  embrace,  and

destroy diem.

Two  more  battle  groups  would  remain  in  reserve,

including  the warmaster's own, to follow the enemy  through

hyperspace  should  they manage to  escape.  Though  it  was

unlikely that the infidels would manage an escape, pinned as

they were against the gravity well of a huge gas giant.

Acknowledgments poured in from the commanders  of  the

different battle groups. The blaze bugs overhead swarmed and

flashed as dispositions shifted.

The  enemy were maneuvering cautiously, trying to keep

between the advancing Battle Group of Yun-Yammka and Ebaq 9.

This  suited  the warmaster perfectly-the defenders  were  a

slow,   easy  target  against  which  he  could   hurl   his

overwhelming strength.

Tsavong Lah's satisfaction grew as he watched the enemy

plod  toward  destruction. The Battle  Group  of  Yun-Yammka

began   to  maneuver  into  extended  order  to  lay  itself

alongside  the enemy, two capital ships to the enemy's  one.

And  then  Tsavong  Lah  sensed a  shift  in  the  infidels'

dispositions-the blaze bugs began to move, their whirrs  and

patterns swinging subtly to a new configuration.

The  warmaster watched in growing unease as the  enemy

squadron shifted swiftly from a long, extended line  into  a

compact, pointed blade, a spearhead pointed into the Yuuzhan

Vong  battle  group.  In a flare of intense  fire,  the  New

Republic  squadron pierced the Yuuzhan Vong  extended  line,

shattering  the  invaders' formation. Eight of  the  largest

Yuuzhan Vong ships, hit by the combined power of the  entire

enemy squadron, were left disabled or dead.

The claws of the vu'asa at the end of Tsavong Lah's leg

clutched at the frame of his throne in anger. But his words,

as  he gave his next order, were calm. "The Battle Group  of

Yun-Yammka will engage the infidels as closely as possible."

The  Yuuzhan  Vong would take more losses as  the  dispersed

ships  closed  with  the compact enemy,  but  then  superior

numbers would begin to tell, and so would the Battle  Groups

of  Yun-Txiin  and  Yun-Q'aah, which  would  soon  be  in  a

position to envelop the enemy and finish them off.

The  battle was still his. It would take a little more

time, that was all.

And time the warmaster had in plenty.

In a room that smelled of protein and blood deep within

the  Damutek  of the Intendants, Nom Anor stood  before  his

superior  Yoog Skell, a villip in his hands. The villip  had

formed  into  the  face  of  an executor  on  Tsavong  Lah's

flagship, one of the few members of the intendant  class  on

the expeditionary force.

"The  enemy  is maneuvering well," the executor  said.

"But still we will crush him. Our numbers are overwhelming."

Yoog Skell growled as he paced back and forth.

"We've  been  surprised," he muttered. "I  don't  like

surprises. And neither does Supreme Overlord Shimrra."

When  the  call came, Mara was alone in the  Skywalker

apartment looking at holos of Ben. She went to the comm, and

saw Winter gazing calmly back at her.

"It's begun," Winter said. "Ackbar and I are going  up

to Fleet Command. You may join us if you wish."

Mara  felt a sudden dryness in her mouth. "Of course,"

she said. "I'll be right there."

It's  not  working. The faint thought  floated  toward

Jaina  from  Madurrin,  in position on  General  Farlander's

bridge.

What's not working?

The  Trickster  jammers. The ones that would  identify

enemy  ships as belonging to the wrong side and cause  their

friends to shoot at them.

Another piece of bad luck, but Jaina was too frantic to

feel badly about it now. Her own target was corning up.

"Shadow bomb away." Jaina shoved the dumb weapon ahead

with a push of the Force and drew back on the stick to bring

her  X-wing  to a slightly different trajectory. Ahead,  the

target  enemy  cruiser  lay in a  blaze  of  fire  as  Keyan

Farlander's  entire  squadron  swept  past  it,  turbolasers

churning  out  fire while missiles corkscrewed  through  the

void between ships.

"Bomb  away," came Tesar's hissing voice, followed  by

Lowbacca's  howl  as  he, too, flung a shadow  bomb  at  the

enemy.

General Farlander hadn't been content to punch through

the  enemy  formation  only  once-he  had  spun  his  entire

squadron around and done it a second time, before the  enemy

could concentrate against him.

Jaina felt Tesar and Lowie through the Force, as  well

as the dumb shadow bombs they were all shoving at the enemy,

while  Madurrin  was a presence from her  place  on  General

Farlander's  flagship. As the only Jedi in the  system  they

were  too  few to create a proper Force-meld, but the  three

Jedi  who  led  the  flights of Twin Suns Squadron  were  so

close,  and  by now so experienced in their work,  that  the

meld was hardly necessary.

"Skips  at point two, Major." Vale's voice  was  calm.

"Getting set to bounce us."

"Turn to engage . . . now." Jaina rotated and fired the

X-wing's quad engines. Engaging the enemy head-on was a  lot

safer than letting them jump on Twin Suns' tails.

Ahead,  flashes marked oncoming enemy fire., a  steady

pulse of projectiles.

"Leapfrog, even and odd," Jaina said, and extended her

forward  shields as she was aware of Twin Three  pulling  up

even  with  her, the overlapping shields of the two  X-wings

covering   her   entire  four-fighter  flight.   She   began

stuttering  laserfire at the enemy, though  she  doubted  it

would have much effect. Doubtless the enemy would have their

dovin basals deployed forward against her fire.

Enemy  fire  began  to hammer her shields.  Flying  by

instinct  and  the Force, she blinked against the  brilliant

flashes  and tried to read her instruments to know when  the

shields' power situation grew critical.

In the event, it was R2-B3 who cluttered the warning at

her.

"Leapfrog now" she called, and throttled back.

Twins One and Three fell back while Twins Two and Four

surged  into  their place, their fresh shields covering  the

entire  flight.  It  was  a  precision  maneuver,  all  four

starfighters   maneuvering  within  a  tolerance   of   mere

centimeters.

Thanks to endless drills and practice in battle,  Twin

Suns Squadron had come a long way since the battle over  Far

Thunder, when all Jaina could do was arrange them in a  long

line and have them play follow the leader.

The  coralskippers flashed by, no more than  blurs  on

their  converging  course.  Normally  she'd  call  for   the

squadron  to  split  and drop on them, but  maneuvering  and

combat  took  too  much  time.  She  needed  to  stick  with

Farlander  and his compact group, not get caught  away  from

support.

"Turning left sixty degrees," Jaina said, a course that

would bring them toward Farlander and the main body.

As  her flight performed a perfect crossover turn, the

maneuver turned her cockpit toward the enemy cruiser just in

time  to see the brilliant explosions of three shadow  bombs

planting themselves along its flank. She could sec the  ship

tremble with each hit.

Over  her  comm she could hear the hissing of  Barabel

amusement. She was glad Tesar could find something funny  in

all this.

Then Tesar's tone turned serious. "Skips astern,  Twin

Leader."

"Maximum  acceleration,"  Jaina  said,  and   punched

throttles.

Her displays showed more enemy than she could properly

comprehend, but her sense of the battle suggested the  enemy

were  finally coordinating a response to General Farlander's

maneuver.  He  had  cut twice through  the  enemy  squadron,

wrecking ships both times, but it was clear the Yuuzhan Vong

weren't  going  to let him do it again. Those  ships  nearby

were  keeping their distance, while those farther away  were

scrambling  to  catch  up.  Swarms  of  coral-skippers  were

pouring  in  from all directions. Soon Farlander would  find

himself  swamped by superior numbers and held in  place  for

destruction, like a bantamweight fighter grappled by a  160-

kilo wrestler.

Not  to mention the two huge squadrons looming on  his

flanks. Or the other two squadrons hanging in the rear.

Enemy fire boomed on Jaina's aft shields as she fled, a

surprising number of shots. The pursuing coralskippers  were

throwing  everything they had. Jaina did a  little  jinking,

but  it  didn't seem to help. The sheer volume of  fire  was

disturbing.

The  pursuers broke off when Jaina's squadron  entered

the overlapping fields of fire of Farlander's capital ships,

but  by that point it hardly seemed to matter. So much  fire

was  coming  from so many directions that Jaina still  found

her  shields getting slammed, even though it didn't seem  as

if anyone was taking the trouble to aim specifically at her.

"Friendly cruiser on our left," she said. "Let's  take

some  of the pressure off it." She led Twin Suns on a  high-

speed  slash  against the coralskippers that had  just  made

their  attack  runs  on  the cruiser and  were  now  perfect

targets  as  they  maneuvered  in  preparation  for  another

attack.  One  burst  into flame at the  touch  of  her  quad

lasers, and she thought she killed another with a missile.

"Rolling right," she began to call, and then there was

a  brilliant  flash on her canopy matched by a wail  in  the

Force,  a mental keen that brought tears to Jaina's  dazzled

eyes.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"Twin Two," said Twin Three. "She's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" Jaina demanded.

"She  didn't get out." Twin Three sounded stunned.  "A

huge projectile hit her fighter-it was vaporized."

"Who hit her?" Jaina's hands suddenly got busy on  the

controls, ready to jink if the squadron was under attack.

"No  one.  Just random fire. There's a lot of  it  out

here."

"No kidding," someone said.

Vale,  Jaina thought. Another wingmate had gone,  like

Anni  Capstan. The first casualty since the battle over  Far

Thunder, the first since she'd built Twin Suns Squadron into

its highly drilled, perfected form.

The first casualty, she thought with a sick certainty,

but not the last.

She fought away the tears and the grief. She had to be

in  control now. "Twin Three, Twin Four, keep close to  me,"

she said. "Rolling right."

The  rolling maneuver put her in an inverted  position

with  regard to the New Republic squadron, able to view  the

fight  through her canopy. She saw a Republic-class  cruiser

hit  with  a  lance  of fire, saw compartments  venting  ice

crystals that had once been air. The space between the heavy

ships was thick with fighters, both friendly and enemy.

A furball, she saw, was now forming around the damaged

Republic-class  cruiser, a horde of  arriving  coralskippers

tangling with a couple of squadrons of E-wings. "Starfighter

battle  at  zero-three-zero," she said.  "Each  flight  form

echelon.  Each pilot pick your target. Re-form on the  other

side,  look  for  your  wingmate  first  and  then  for  me.

Understood?"

They understood. She had drilled them well.

"This  is  for Vale," she said, and had to blink  back

tears  again  as she punched the throttle. She  felt  Lowie,

Tesar,  and Madurrin sending her strength through the Force,

and she radiated her thanks.

For her first target she picked a coralskipper that was

lining  up  for a shot at an E-wing. Hers was  a  deflection

shot,  but  she synced perfectly with her ship,  slewed  the

nose  of  the  X-wing around just slightly, and touched  the

quad  triggers. The coralskipper blew with the  second  shot

and  then she whipped past the debris, triggering a  missile

onto the tail of another skip that presented itself. She had

the  satisfaction of seeing the coralskipper shatter  before

she was through the furball and pulling into the clear.

Clear being a relative term. The void was still filled

with beams and missiles and cannonades, all of it once aimed

at something but now possessed by a dreadful randomness.

"Re-form on me!" Jaina called, frantically scanning her

displays.

Tesar's hissing voice came over the comm. "We're being

bounced, Twin Leader! This one requestz assistance!"

""You got it!" She cast a glance at her displays,  saw

Tesar's  blip  behind her. "Twins Three and Four,  with  me!

Streak,   take  your  flight  and-"  A  roar  from  Lowbacca

confirmed Jaina's order before she finished giving it.

Jaina hauled back on the stick, hoping she wouldn't get

smacked  out  of  space  while her  maneuvering  killed  her

velocity.  She half rolled through the turn to keep  herself

out of enemy sights.

When  she'd completed her maneuver the sight took  her

breath away.

An  enemy  frigate had laid itself along the Republic-

class  cruiser,  the space between them a blaze  of  furious

energies as the two huge vessels slammed each other at point-

blank  range.  Around both capital ships were at  least  two

hundred smaller craft, darting and weaving and blasting each

other. She could see at least a dozen craft on fire.

Most of the smaller craft were Yuuzhan Vong. More enemy

were  appearing every second. General Farlander was  getting

swamped by the enemy.

"Stay with me, Three and Four," she told her remaining

flight. "Now let's go."

As  she  shoved the throttles forward she felt Tesar's

predatory  presence through the Force, and she  sent  him  a

burst  of strength. And then she sent, through the Force,  a

simple message to Madurrin.

We need help!

Madurrin  sent breeze of calm through the  Force,  and

with  it  the  knowledge of help already  on  the  way.  The

sending  was  followed  immediately by  bright  splashes  on

Jama's  cockpit  displays  as more  ships  appeared  out  of

hyperspace.  Jaina's  heart leapt as  she  felt  her  mental

horizons  expand. Personalities crowded into her  mind:  Kyp

Durron, Saba and the Wild Knights, Zekk, Corran Horn,  Alema

Rare,  and Jacen. Jacen, in his place on the bridge  of  the

Bothan Assault Cruiser Ralroost.

We're here! The Force message was a massed shout.

Glad  to hear it, Jaina sent as she got a coralskipper

in  her  sights, but right now she had to get some Vong  off

Tesar's tail.

She triggered her lasers.

A  new  howl chorused from the voxyn, and Tsavong  Lah

watched  in  amazement and rising anger as more  blaze  bugs

rose  from  the  floor to form a new enemy squadron  in  the

overhead display. A large force, he saw, a match for any  of

his five.

Perhaps not so large. He saw now that a number of  the

enemy  ships  were  big transports, which promptly  vanished

into hyper-space, leaving the rest behind to fight.

Apparently the new enemy were a supply convoy and  its

escort. It wasn't so inexplicable they should be here, then.

The new arrivals had appeared just as he was about  to

order  the  Battle  Groups  of Yun-Txiin  and  Yun-Q'aah  to

complete their envelopment of the enemy, the lovers' embrace

that  would  destroy the infidels. But the new  enemy  force

hung  off  to one flank, near the Battle Group of Yun-Txiin,

and  if  he  ordered the enveloping movement  now,  the  new

arrivals could pounce on Yun-Txiin's rear.

"The  Battle  Group  of  Yun-Txiin  will  engage  the

newcomers,"  he  said. "The Battle Group of  Yun-Harla  will

move to support, but will not engage without my command. The

Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah will reinforce the Battle Group of

Yun-Yammka and destroy the original defenders."

That left his own Battle Group of Yun-Yuuzhan still in

reserve  against any further surprises. With his group  were

the  troopships that would be used to secure Ebaq 9 once the

enemy fleet was dealt with.

He still had overwhelming numbers.

And  since the voxyn had howled again, there were more

Jedi among the newcomers.

More  sacrifices  for  the  gods,  he  thought   with

satisfaction, and sat back in the cognition throne to  watch

his forces complete his victory.

Through the Jedi Force-meld Jacen could feel Jaina  in

her  cockpit-feel her determination, her cool analysis,  and

the   edges  of  panic  that  sometimes  broke  through  her

composure. "Skip on my six! Breaking right. . ."

"This one has destroyed it." This from Tesar.

'Thanks!  They weren't words, really, these bursts  of

image  and  intensity from the Force, but  that's  how  they

translated.

Jaina,  Twin Suns, and all of Farlander's  force  were

heavily  engaged at great odds. His own new  arrivals,  with

most  of  the fleet's Jedi, were moving against one  of  the

huge battle groups that loomed like an overhanging cliff  on

Farlander's flank.

The  Jedi  meld  was skating on the  edge  of  Jacen's

ability  to  comprehend. There were too many  ships  in  the

picture for him to absorb. Fortunately, three-fifths of  the

enemy were unengaged, and he could safely leave them out  of

his mental picture.

He called out coordinates, maneuvering Kre'fey's force

so  as  to  provide maximum effectiveness at the  moment  of

collision.

"Fire dovin missile!" Admiral Kre'fey ordered. He  was

too  excited to sit in the grand chair reserved for  a  full

admiral, and instead paced back and forth just behind Jacen.

Jacen was going to find this annoying if Kre'fey kept it  up

for long.

"Dovin missile fired, sir."

"Transmit  coordinates of the space  mine  to  General

Farlander."

"Coordinates transmitted, Admiral."

"Wonderful!" Jacen heard Kre'fey clap his hands. "This

is working well, don't you think?"

But Jacen's mind really wasn't on what was occurring on

the admiral's bridge. Instead he kept his focus on Twin Suns

Squadron and the desperate battle Jaina was fighting.

Missed!

Lowie, look out!

Jacen  considered summoning his Vongsense, his ability

to  empathize  with and sometimes influence the  enemy.  But

that  would mean losing the Force, and the ability  to  help

his  comrades. He decided that remaining in the meld was his

best option.

"I've lost my rear shields!"

"That was my last missile!"

Go  with the Force, Jacen sent. He closed his eyes and

pushed out as much care, strength, and support as he could.

And  behind  him, dim in the force,  he  felt  another

presence, powerful but cloaked, that radiated strength,  but

to Jacen alone.

Vergere.

Thirty light-years from the battle, at a narrow  point

of the long hyperspace route that led to Ebaq and its moons,

a  small  New Republic task force dropped out of hyperspace.

Most  of  the  ships were unarmed. This was not  a  fighting

force, but even so its mission was vital.

The  squadron commander first fired a single  missile,

one  containing an interdictor, modeled after a Yuuzhan Vong

dovin basal. The interdictor would serve as a space mine.

Once  the  mine  had been set in  the  center  of  the

hyperspace  lane,  the  other  ships  began  to  drop   more

conventional  mines,  mines with detection  gear,  explosive

cores, and maneuvering thrusters. The mines immediately took

up station around the dovin basal mine.

The  unarmed ships continued to lay mines.  Dozens  of

mines.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Tens of thousands.

"Got it!" Twin Six shouted. She'd just shot a skip off

Lowie's tail, and the Wookiee gave a roar of thanks.

Jaina blinked sweat from her eyes and hauled her X-wing

right,  away  from  a  stream of plasma  cannon  fire.  That

enabled  her  to  get a deflection shot  at  a  coralskipper

speeding  by,  but the Vong's dovin basal sucked  the  laser

bolts  and  suddenly Jaina was dancing away from  more  fire

coming  at  her from her starboard quarter. It was  friendly

fire,  laser bolts from a B-wing, but it was deadly for  all

that and Jaina didn't want any part of it.

"All ships," came an announcement on the command comm,

"this  is  General  Farlander. All  ships  to  alter  course

simultaneously on the following coordinates . . ."

Jaina tried to absorb the coordinates and failed. She'd

have  to just get a visual and follow, that is if she  could

ever get free of this furball composed of friendly and enemy

craft, debris, and random deadly fire.

"What was that coordinate?" From Twin Nine.

"I didn't get it either." Twin Four.

"Course change on my mark," Farlander continued. "Five.

Four. Three. Two. Mark."

Jaina saw the capital ships around her suddenly  swing

massively  to  a new heading and ignite their  engines.  The

Yuuzhan  Vong took a moment to respond, but soon they,  too,

were matching Farlander's maneuver.

Except  for  the ships that couldn't. Trailing  behind

were  the casualties, the dead ships, the wounded,  and  the

out-of-control, both friendly and enemy.

And Jaina, who was too tangled up with the Yuuzhan Vong

to   follow.  If  she  straightened  her  course  to  pursue

Farlander, she'd be blasted by a dozen enemy.

"Squadron  to form into single line ahead,"  came  the

order from Farlander.

"Slagged him!" From Twin Three.

Enemy  fire  banged on Jaina's rear shields,  and  she

jerked  the  fighter into a roll as her astromech  chittered

angrily  at the attackers. "Rolling left," she said,  as  if

anyone  were keeping track of her movements. As far  as  she

could  tell  the members of Twin Suns Squadron were  all  on

their  own, so separated in the melee they could  no  longer

guard one another's backs.

There was a flash. Debris thundered on Jaina's shields.

"Who was that?" Twin Seven's voice.

"Twin  Nine." Tesar's voice was calm, but Jaina  could

feel his anger in the Force.

"Did she get out?"

"Negative."

Anger ripped into Jaina. She'd lost another pilot, and

she hadn't even known Twin Nine was in danger.

Time  to kill some Vong, she decided. It was what  she

was here for.

She  looked  for a coralskipper, and  put  it  in  her

sights.

Tsavong  Lah  watched  with  pleasure  as  Farlander's

squadron fled the battle. The sudden maneuver had caught the

Yuuzhan Vong by surprise, but the Battle Group of Yun-Yammka

had corrected quickly and were now hanging tenaciously on to

the  enemy. The Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah had altered course

to  intercept and would soon join the fight and  finish  the

infidels.

The  warmaster's pleasure was increased as the  Battle

Group  of  Yun-Txiin slammed into the newly arrived squadron

with  proper  headlong Yuuzhan Vong spirit. The  blaze  bugs

overhead  began  to  moderate their pitch  as  missiles  and

projectile weapons began to inflict damage.

A  sudden  whine  from  the  blaze  bugs  caught  his

attention, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Farlander's  squadron was in the  process  of  another

course change, a radical one this time. Tsavong Lah couldn't

believe  how  rapidly the New Republic  capital  ships  were

turning-they  were whipping around a full 270  degrees,  and

without losing velocity!

It  was a clear impossibility. Yet they were doing it,

and leaving the Battle Group of Yun-Yammka behind.

And  then his nerves turned chill as he realized  that

the  infidels' new course was sending them straight into the

battle  between the Battle Group of Yun-Txiin and the  newly

arrived force. The Battle Group of Yun-Txiin would be caught

between the two forces and hammered.

"The  Battle Group of Yun-Harla will engage the  enemy

immediately,"  he ordered. That would reinforce  the  Battle

Group  of Yun-Txiin and repair some of the damage the  enemy

maneuver  had created. "The Battle Group of Yun-Yammka  will

regroup  and prepare to reenter combat. The Battle Group  of

Yun-Q'aah will-"

He  paused as more blaze bugs began to whine, a  whole

host  of them rising from the floor to hover in the air  and

form something new.

What now? he thought.

Jacen watched as Keyan Farlander's entire squadron  of

capital ships performed the Solo Slingshot around the  dovin

basal  space  mine analog, the modified interdictor  missile

that  Kre'fey's  Ral-roost had fired on its arrival  on  the

field  of battle. The enemy fighting them continued on their

previous  course, unable to claw their way  after  Farlander

without  performing a conventional turn and losing  most  of

their  speed.  A  few  of the enemy, by guesswork  or  luck,

managed  to  work out what was happening and make  the  turn

along with Farlander, but these were outnumbered and quickly

blasted out of existence.

The  rest would be out of the battle for some time  as

the  capital  ships lumbered into their turns and  tried  to

maneuver into some kind of appropriate formation.

Nice work., Jacen sent to Madurrin.

Thanks.

Ralroost  shuddered to a hit, and Jacen  was  reminded

that  a  Bothan  Assault Cruiser was  so  named  because  it

concentrated most of its power on attack, not to shields  or

defense.

"Breach between frames M and N," someone said.  "Frame

seals arc holding. Damage control is responding."

"Hammer  them! Hammer them!" Admiral Kre'fey, shouting

swung his fists dangerously in the air over Jacen's head.

Kre'fey's  ships were engaged in a furious close-range

action  with the enemy. Jacen could feel Kyp and his  Dozen,

Corran  Horn  and  Rogue  Squadron, and  the  all-Jedi  Wild

Knights  flying in frantic combat. The Knights in particular

were tearing through the enemy, their predatory reflexes  in

perfect synchronization with the Force. An all-Jedi squadron

was a terrible tiling indeed.

Then Jacen felt another surge in the Force, and he felt

a  new  mind enter the Jedi meld, a mind uncertain and  only

half trained.

Hello, Mom., he sent.

The full power of the Force-meld took Leia by surprise.

She  was  in  the copilot's chair of the Millennium  Falcon,

which was echeloned with the rest of the Smugglers' Alliance

ships  around the bright red Star Destroyer Errant  Venture.

No  sooner  had she fallen out of hyperspace than  the  meld

reached  for her, and part of her mind was viewing a burning

enemy  frigate  with Corran Horn, fighting  a  jaw-clenching

combat  with  Kyp Durron, or engaging in vicious,  efficient

pack  behavior with the Barabel Wild Knights. The  intensity

of it took her breath away.

Hello, Mom. Jacen's presence was clear in the Force.

Hello, Jacen., she sent uncertainly. Unlike the others

in the fight, her Force training had been haphazard, and she

hadn't had the opportunity to practice the meld with others.

But  the  power of the meld was so strong that she felt  her

uncertainty  fade as soon as she received  her  first  order

from Jacen.

She  received  another message from  Jacen,  felt  the

coordinates burning in her mind. She looked at the  Falcon's

navigation  displays  and  saw  the  point  indicated.   She

translated the coordinates and keyed them in.

"Han, Jacen wants us here."

"What Jacen wants, Jacen gets," Han said, and switched

his comm unit to the command channel.

Han-Captain Solo, again, with his insignia  pinned  to

his   otherwise   civilian  vest-commanded  the   Smugglers'

Alliance  squadron from the Millennium Falcon. "I'm  happier

in  a  smaller  ship," he said when Booster  Terrik  offered

Errant Venture. "And besides, a Star Destroyer is too big  a

target."

The  motley  Smugglers' Alliance  squadron  began  its

change of course.

Leia's  Noghri bodyguards, in the turbolaser  turrets,

chuckled  in their whispery voices and fired practice  shots

into the void.

And then Leia felt a shard of terror clear through the

Force-meld, and she knew Jaina was in trouble.

"This is the critical moment," Ackbar said. He, Winter,

and Mara sat in a gallery above the Fleet Command operations

room,  where Sien Sow stood amid a bustle of aides, screens,

and constantly flowing data. A holo of the battle at Ebaq  9

floated  in  the  air  above the busy room.  The  Smugglers'

Alliance  squadron under Han Solo had just appeared  in  the

display, the ships picked out in brilliant orange.

It  was  a massive contrast to the last time Mara  had

watched  Sien Sow in action. Then the Supreme Commander  had

been forced to conduct his defense of Coruscant in front  of

a  Rill  session  of the Senate, with the Senators  shouting

advice and hurling threats, and Chief of State Borsk Fey'lya

countermanding Sow's orders from the speaker's podium.

The Supreme Commander seemed a lot more comfortable in

his current situation. And no wonder.

"It  is  at this point that the enemy might  begin  to

suspect  a trap," Ackbar said. He slumped in his chair,  and

his  voice  was slurred with weariness. Being  on  dry  land

again was taking its toll.

"Alas  that we needed to send this squadron to prevent

Farlander  and  Kre'fey  from  being  overwhelmed  .   .   .

fortunately  it  is small and innocuous .  .  ."  He  sighed

heavily. "Perhaps they will not take alarm. Perhaps not."

"Rolling left!" Jaina shouted. But a stream of  plasma

cannon  projectiles  met  her as she  rolled,  one  stunning

impact after another on her shields, and she knew there  was

a second enemy behind her. If she broke right she'd run into

the first enemy.

Fortunately, space is three-dimensional. She went up.

An enemy missile shot past her canopy, and then she was

free. She rolled again and went after her pursuers.

She  found  one and was on the verge of  attempting  a

deflection  shot  when R2-B3 chittered  a  warning  and  she

jerked  the  stick  away from the flaming  projectiles  that

soared past her.

"Twin Three and Four, I'm in a crossfire here-where are

you?" she demanded.

"Three's hit!" Four's voice. "I saw him eject!"

"Where are you?" Jaina demanded.

"I don't know!"

Jaina jinked away from a line of fire only to have her

shields  slammed by a missile. Her astromech droid  squealed

at the state of the shields, which were near collapse. Jaina

blinked sweat from her eyes and jinked again, and by  chance

found  a coralskipper floating across her sights. She  fired

the  quad lasers and felt satisfaction at the sight of" fire

burning along the enemy hull. If she hadn't killed it, she'd

at least hurt it.

A  howl came over the comm, and Jaina's Force-impelled

reflexes jerked at the controls.

The  howl  was  followed  by  another,  this  one  of

satisfaction,  as Lowie scragged the coralskipper  that  had

been  on  Jaina's tail. Between the two of them,  Jaina  and

Lowie  hunted down and blew apart a third coralskipper,  and

then she found a moment to raise her faceplate and mop sweat

from  her face with a gloved hand. They were on the edge  of

the  furball  that  had  originally  surrounded  Farlander's

squadron,  but  which  had  now  become  a  separate  fight,

starfighters  and  coralskippers circling and  hunting  each

other in a remarkably small area.

She felt Tesar's urgency through the Force. "This  one

has losst shieldz and an engine!" he called.

The Force told her where Tesar was before her displays

did.

"Streak," she told Lowie, "stay on my wing!"

And she dived back into the fight.

Tsavong Lan gazed in furious concentration at the small

squadron that had appeared on the flank of the Battle  Group

of Yun-Q'aah. It was built around a single very large wedge-

shaped  ship,  with a modest number of medium-sized  vessels

and  a lot of small ones. By itself it wasn't very menacing,

except that it could attack the rear of the Yun-Q'aah battle

group if he committed it to battle.

Better  to squash this small group first, he  decided.

Even though this little squadron wasn't large enough to turn

the tide of battle, it was better to be safe than not.

"The  Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah is to engage the small

squadron on its flank and destroy it."

A  subaltern relayed the order. There was a moment  in

which the subaltern communed with his villip, after which he

turned  and  saluted with crossed arms. "Commander  Droog'an

begs  to  ask  whether  we have been  led  into  an  ambush,

Warmaster."

For a moment Tsavong Lah's lip curled at the insolence

of  Droog'an, but then he stopped to consider the  question.

Had  all  the information of the Final Redoubt been  nothing

but an attempt to lure him here into the Deep Core? Had that

schemer Nom Anor been outschemed?

The  appearance of two enemy squadrons was suspicious.

But  one of them seemed to be a convoy escort, and the other

was understrength and composed of such a heterogeneous array

of vessels that it was barely military at all.

If  he,  Tsavong Lah, had planned an ambush, he  would

have   used   overwhelming  force  and  pounced   from   all

directions. He wouldn't have fed in two squadrons piecemeal,

neither of them large enough to do anything more than  delay

the outcome.

No, it had to be a coincidence that a convoy arrived at

just this moment. The second squadron was probably a scratch

force summoned by a distress call.

"Tell  Commander Droog'an there is no ambush," Tsavong

Lah said. "Order him to engage immediately."

"At once, Warmaster!"

Leia could see that Han was impressed by the size  and

strength of the enemy battle group that suddenly swerved  to

engage  him. He blew a long breath, then cast a glance  over

his  shoulder at Leia and said, "I don't suppose the  United

Jedi  Cluster-Mind has any suggestions about how  to  handle

this one?"

"I'm  afraid  not,"  Leia  said.  The  meld  knew  an

engagement  had  to  occur, but its tactical  advice  was  a

little unclear.

"Well  then," Han breathed. He looked at the  displays

again, then flicked on the comm. "This is Captain Solo,"  he

told  the  squadron. "We can't hope to match the enemy  with

numbers  or firepower, so we'll have to make use  of  speed,

flexibility,  and-"  His brow creased in  worry.  "-tactical

brilliance," he finished hopefully.

Leia  reached out and squeezed his shoulder.  "Go  get

'cm, Slick," she said.

Ralroost shuddered to another hit, but Jacen's mind was

in  the Force, seeing through the eyes of the Jedi meld. His

mind  strained  to keep up with all the information  flowing

through the force. Through Leia's eyes he saw Han's slashing

attack  on  the  larger  enemy battle group,  a  hit-and-run

assault  that the enemy was too large and slow  to  counter.

Through  Madurrin's perceptions he felt Farlander's battered

squadron  slam into the enemy, taking Kre'fey's  enemies  in

the rear and inflicting damage beyond their numbers. Through

the  eyes  of  Kyp and Corran and Saba he saw the  flash  of

fire,  coralskippers  burning, enemy frigates  and  cruisers

trembling to the force of shadow bombs.

And he felt Jaina's desperation and Lowbacca's ferocity

as  they  aided  Tesar's  grim fight for  survival.  Jacen's

fingers  twitched  with the impulse  to  run  to  Ralroost's

fighter  bays,  to jump into his X-wing and fly  to  Jaina's

assistance.  But  he  knew he served  the  cause  better  on

Ralroost, where he was able to keep the other Jedi  focused,

help  them sense each other's locations and coordinate their

actions with one another.

Jacen  jumped as Kre'fey's white-furred  hand  dropped

onto  his  shoulder.  "Now, Jacen!" the admiral  said.  "Our

minefield is complete! Now you'll see the destruction of the

enemy!"

Kre'fey gave an order on the comm.

And  then, mere minutes later, as the squadrons  leapt

from  their hiding places in the Deep Core hyperspace lanes,

more  New Republic ships began to appear, one squadron after

another.  A  host of Jedi minds rose into the meld:  Tahiti,

Zekk, Alema, and the burning power of Luke Skywalker.

All here at the finish.

The  voxyn cried again as they detected one  new  Jedi

after  another, their weary howls now more akin to whimpers.

The  blaze  bugs  that flew into the air  to  mark  the  new

infidel  squadrons provided a strange dissonance in  Tsavong

Lah,  for the picture that rose to Tsavong Lah's brain,  fed

by the tendrils of the cognition throne, showed the enemy in

even  greater numbers, vast numbers of infidels  all  around

him.

It  took  a  moment  for him to  realize  why  he  was

receiving  two  different  impressions.  So  many  were  the

infidels  that  the warmaster had run out of blaze  bugs  to

represent them in the display.

Fury possessed him. What did it matter that he was now

outnumbered? That his forces had been drawn out of  position

and  were  about  to  be  engulfed? The  Yuuzhan  Vong  were

conquerors! The gods had promised them victor)'!

Swiftly he reordered his forces. The Battle Groups  of

Yun-Harla  and  Yun-Txiin were heavily engaged  against  the

original enemy squadron and the first set of reinforcements.

They had local superiority in numbers, though both sides had

lost  all  formation  and the battle had  dissolved  into  a

general  melee. Tsavong Lah ordered these forces to redouble

their  efforts  and destroy their foes before  more  infidel

battle groups could intervene.

The  Battle Group of Yun-Yammka, which had opened  the

battle  and  been left on its own since the  original  enemy

squadron  had  made  its  unexpected turning  maneuver,  had

regrouped.  Tsavong Lah decided to sacrifice it. He  ordered

the   battle  group  to  hurl  itself  against   the   enemy

reinforcements in order to keep them occupied while he tried

to win the fight with his other forces.

"Do-ro'ik  vong  pratte!" the group commander  replied

when  he  heard  the order, the battle cry  of  the  warrior

caste.  Tsavong Lah swelled with pride at the  unquestioning

spirit  of the doomed commander. He knew he, his ships,  and

his warriors were going to their deaths, but still he gladly

accepted the clash of battle.

The  Battle  Group  of Yun-Q'aah, which  had  been  in

pursuit of the small, agile force that had appeared  as  the

second group of reinforcements, was ordered to break off its

pursuit   and  maneuver  against  several  of  the   infidel

squadrons. If Commander Droog'an maneuvered cleverly enough,

he   could  occupy  a  large  group  of  the  enemy  without

committing himself against overwhelming numbers, thus buying

time for the rest.

That  left  the  reserve Battle Group of  Yun-Yuuzhan,

under  Tsavong Lah's personal command. It was the only force

that  hadn't  been  engaged  with  the  enemy,  that  hadn't

suffered casualties, and that still had complete freedom  of

maneuver.

Tsavong  Lah hesitated for a moment, then  decided  to

take  his  battle group straight into battle  alongside  the

Battle Groups of Yun-Harla and Yun-Txiin. If he could  force

a victory there, it might create other opportunities.

He gave the orders, and his forces screamed toward the

battle.

Tsavong  Lah  had been led into a trap-by  Nom  Anor's

information.

"You have betrayed us," Yoog Skell said. "You must pay

with your life."

Nom Anor calmly reached into his pocket for the blorash

jelly that he then flung at Yoog Skell's feet.

The high prefect waved his arms, trying not to topple,

as  the jelly pinned his feet to the floor. He gave Nom Anor

a wild look. "What arc you doing, Executor? "he demanded.

"Giving  Shimrra an itch." Nom Anor surprised  himself

with how calmly he was behaving.

He  slashed his amphistaff down on Yoog Skell's  head.

The high prefect folded into unconsciousness, his feet still

pinned by the semisentient jelly tendrils.

Nom  Anor looked at the sprawled body of his  superior

and  hoped  he  wasn't dead. He'd always rather  liked  Yoog

Skell.

Nom Anor knew, of course, what had happened. His spies

had  been  identified and fed false information designed  to

lead the Yuuzhan Vong fleet into this trap. Whoever had done

this  had been brilliant, setting out a series of clues  and

letting Nom Anor himself draw the conclusions.

But  there  would  be  little use  explaining  to  his

superiors  how  brilliantly  he  had  been  played  by   the

enemy-not  in  the  wake  of  a military  disaster  of  this

magnitude.  They  would  want  Nom  Anor's  head,  not   his

explanations.

It  was time for Nom Anor to vanish, to don an ooglith

masquer  to  disguise his appearance and then  to  disappear

among  the  anonymous worker caste. After  the  search  died

down,  he  could  create further identities and  credentials

that would get him off the planet.

But  where  would he go? He would be hunted throughout

Yuuzhan  Vong-controlled territory. And if he  escaped  into

the New Republic, he would have to live forever in disguise,

an object of suspicion wherever he went.

He decided to think about all that later.

Right now, he needed to concentrate on escape.

Twin Suns Squadron was down to eight star-fighters, and

of  these  only  Lowbacca's was intact. Tesar  had  lost  an

engine and half his shields. Jaina had lost her rear shields

and  her  upper  right foil along with its  laser,  and  her

cockpit  smelled  of  fear and sour sweat.  Others  suffered

light  to heavy damage. They had expended all their missiles

and bombs.

Fortunately,  they  were no longer  engaged  with  the

enemy.  The  larger  battles had passed  them  by,  and  the

fighter-versus-fighter  battle  seemed  to  be   over.   The

coralskippers had either been killed or gone somewhere else,

and only scattered B- and E-wings were near diem.

Through  the Jedi meld Jaina could still  feel  others

experiencing  the shock of combat. Wearily  she  turned  the

nose of her craft toward the huge battle nearby, where Jacen

and  Kyp  and the Wild Knights were engaged, but from  Jacen

she felt a cool touch of the mind, followed by his voice  on

comm.

"Don't. You're too shot up."

"I can feel the others fighting. I can't stand by."

"You  must. The others would only endanger  themselves

protecting you."

The  meld was in agreement with Jacen. She felt  their

unanimity,  but still she felt the urge not to  abandon  her

friends.

"You  have acquitted yourself honorably, Jaina  Solo."

This was Saba's voice. "It is now your task to preserve your

own life."

"Twin  Suns has permission to withdraw to Ebaq  Nine."

This came from Ebaq 9, from her own controller.

Jaina  felt her tension drain away. Preserve your  own

life. How long had it been since anyone told her to do that?

Her  battle  was  over, and the annihilation  that  she  had

feared-that she had expected-- had not come.

"Acknowledged," she told the flag, and then  spoke  to

her pilots. "Streak, I want you to cover Tesar. The rest  of

you, form on me."

Wearily, Jaina turned her craft toward safety.

Jaina, Tesar, and Lowbacca had landed on Ebaq 9.  Luke

could sense their weariness in the Force, but still he  felt

them  trying to send strength and clarity to the  others  in

the Jedi meld.

Luke  sat  on  the bridge of the Mon Calamari  cruiser

Harbinger, flagship of Garm Bel Iblis, and played a game  of

holochess  in  his  mind  with the enemy  commander.  Luke's

mission to the old hero of the Rebellion had succeeded:  Bel

Iblis  had  brought into the Deep Core half the  fleet  with

which he had been guarding Talaan, divided into three battle

groups.

Maneuvering  against that fleet was a  single  Yuuzhan

Vong  squadron, the one that had earlier been pursuing Han's

squadron  of  Smugglers' Alliance ships. Its  commander  was

clever  and  had  managed to keep all three of  Bel  Iblis's

battle groups occupied without quite engaging any of them.

But it was an unfair contest. The Yuuzhan Vong had only

a  single piece on the holo board, the New Republic  three--

four,  if  Han's  small squadron counted. Luke,  maneuvering

with  the  aid of the Jedi meld, slowly reduced the  enemy's

options to two: fight and die, or flee.

And he knew the Yuuzhan Vong did not run away.

He ordered the three battle groups to converge.

No good, Tsavong Lah realized. His plan wasn't working.

He  clenched his teeth in rage. May Norn Anor's flayed

skin be trampled by rakamats.

The  Battle  Groups  of Yun-Harla and  Yun-Txiin  were

fighting bravely but being overwhelmed by the enemy. Two new

enemy  battle groups had joined the fight, fresh and  formed

and  well  organized, while the Yuuzhan Vong were  scattered

and locked in combat with their old enemies.

The  Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah was in the  process  of

being trapped by three enemy battle groups.

The  Battle  Group of Yum-Yammka, as  instructed,  was

immolating  itself against the enemy, but such  bravery  was

useless because nothing else was going well.

Only the Battle Group of Yun-Yuuzhan, under Tsavong Lah

himself,  still  had  options. He had planned  to  join  the

Battle  Groups of Yun-Harla and Yun-Txiin and help them  win

at  least  a  local victory, but he saw now that this  plan,

too, would fail, that all he could do was reinforce a battle

that was already lost, offering himself to the enemy like  a

sacrifice upon the altar.

Like a sacrifice . . .

Despair gripped his heart in iron talons. He should die

in  battle. After a defeat of this magnitude, Shimrra  could

scarcely  be expected to let him live. Tsavong Lah would  be

lucky  not to be cut down like an animal, like Ch'Gang Hool,

and instead die a sacrifice to the gods.

Sacrifice. . .

Tsavong  Lah  jerked  bolt upright  on  the  cognition

throne. A smile drew his slashed lips right.

A sacrifice. Of course.

"Alter  course at once for Ebaq Nine!"  he  commanded.

"Order the Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah to head for the moon at

maximum acceleration!"

Jeedai, he thought. The voxyn had howled when  he  had

first brought his fleet to the system. There had been Jeedai

in  the  system  then. Some of them were probably  with  the

fleet, but Tsavong Lah believed some, at least, would be  on

the ninth moon of Ebaq.

A sacrifice.

Luke watched in surprise as the enemy battle group, the

one  he  had  been  carefully maneuvering against,  suddenly

bolted,  its formations dissolving, every ship for  itself".

The  Yuuzhan Vong had never before fled from a fight in such

disorder, and the New Republic battle groups were unprepared

for  what  looked like a panicked withdrawal.  There  was  a

little  skirmish  across the front  of  one  of  the  battle

groups-a  few  ships flared in the night, and died-and  then

the enemy were away, with the entire fleet in pursuit.

Luke didn't understand where the enemy intended to go.

They  weren't running directly away from him; it was  almost

as if" they were running toward something.

And then, with a dreadful certainty, he knew where they

were headed.

And he thought, Jaina.

"I  did  not foresee this!" Ackbar beat with one  huge

hand on the arm of his chair. "What a fool I have been!"

Countless ships whirled in Jacen's mind. He  struggled

madly  with his expanded senses to understand what  the  new

enemy  maneuver  meant, and suddenly he understood.  At  his

realization an electric shock rang through the Jedi meld.

He  struggled  to  find  an answer.  Calm.  He  sensed

Vergere's  thoughts in his mind. Calm. The Force  will  tell

you what to do.

Suddenly Jacen understood, and he was shouting  orders

to  Admiral Kre'fey while he sent an urgent message  through

the Force..

"Mom!  You've  got  to intercept  that  squadron!  Use

everything you've got!"

That  would keep one of the enemy squadrons away  from

Ebaq, at least for a while.

It  was only after he'd sent his instructions that  he

realized  he  might  have just sent  his  parents  to  their

deaths.

Jacen  rose  from  his  chair and  turned  to  Admiral

Kre'fey.  "I  need my X-wing now!" he shouted,  and  without

waiting for permission ran for the turbolift.

"Jacen?" Kre'fey seemed more astonished than  anything

else. "We need you on the flagship!"

The turbolift wasn't parked at this level. In an agony

of  frustration  Jacen slammed the control buttons.  "You've

already  won  the  battle!" he said. "Now  I  have  to  save

Jaina!"

Kre'fey's  white  fur rippled as he stared  at  Jacen.

Distant   rumbles  echoed  through  the  room  as  Ralroosts

inadequate shielding absorbed hits.

"Very well," Kre'fey said, waving a hand. "Very well."

And Kre'fey turned back to hammering the enemy.

"Han, we need to stop them."

Han  cast  a bewildered look over his shoulder.  "Stop

who?"

Leia  jabbed  an urgent finger at the  displays.  "The

enemy squadron!"

Han   shrugged.  "They're  fleeing,  but  they  still

outnumber us. Let 'em go."

Anger  flared in Leia's voice. "They're  not  running!

They're heading straight for Jaina!"

There was a moment of stunned comprehension, and  then

the lines in Han's face turned grim. "Right." He faced front

and  snapped on the comm. "This is Solo," he said. "It's  up

to  us  to hold the Vong until our people can catch  up  and

finish  them  off. Everyone pick your targets carefully-this

will not be fun."

He  rolled the Millennium Falcon toward the enemy  and

throttled up.

The enemy ships-hundreds of them-got nearer and nearer.

"Keep  an eye on the displays, sweetheart,"  Han  told

Leia. "When this gets hairy, I don't want anyone sneaking up

on us."

Han  brought  the Smugglers' Alliance  squadron  right

across the front of the Yuuzhan Vong formation, which  meant

that  every weapon on his squadron bore on the enemy,  while

the  enemy could only reply with bow weapons. Han was either

going  to  blow the Vong noses off or force them from  their

course.

The Vong didn't turn.

Errant  Venture fired first, its enormous  turbolasers

hurling neon-colored destruction at the enemy, and then  one

by one the rest of the squadron opened fire. Leia could hear

the  rhythmic  crashing of the Noghri  firing  the  Falcon's

turbolasers.

And then return fire began smashing at the shields.

Jaina felt cold sweat breaking out on her nape.  "Back

to  the fighters!" she told her squadron. "We'll launch  and

get out of the enemy's sight."

"That's  a  negative,  Twin Leader."  It  was  General

Farlander himself on the comm, which spoke to the importance

of the message. In the background she could hear the shouts,

murmurs, and crashes of a big ship in combat.

"Just get into the mineshafts and slam the blast doors

behind  you,"  Farlander said. "Stick to the plan.  You  can

hold  out for hours in there, and we'll come get you  before

you know it."

"The  general iz wise, Jaina," Tesar hissed. His heavy

tail  lashed  left  and  right. "Our  starfighterz  are  too

damaged  to  make a clean escape. Several  of  us  would  be

losst."

Jaina  hesitated as she looked at the expectant pilots

around her, then nodded. Lost. Tesar was right.

"Understood, General," she said.

Around her, Ebaq 9's command center braced itself  for

the  oncoming  blow.  Two huge Yuuzhan Vong  squadrons  were

headed their way.

Stick to the plan, Farlander had said, but this wasn't

the plan. The plan assumed that when the New Republic fleets

arrived  the Yuuzhan Vong would realize they were  ambushed,

and  either  run  or  fight to the  death.  The  plan  never

considered  that  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  would  continue  their

assault  on  Ebaq's ninth moon, which had no  real  military

value at all.

"Right," Jaina said. "This way."

The weary pilots limped out of the command center. The

gravity  was still erratic: sometimes they walked  normally,

and  sometimes an ordinary step would catapult them  to  the

ceiling.  They took a hovercar down the great central  shaft

that  drove through the moonlet's core, from here mineshafts

branched  off  into the old diggings. Several of  these  had

been   equipped  with  the  massive  durasteel  blast  doors

designed to keep the enemy out for hours.

Jaina  stopped  the car by the bunker  that  had  been

converted to an armory. "I'm going to assume that everything

else is going to go wrong," she said.

"Voxyn,"  Lowbacca howled. "How can things go  right?"

Jaina  nodded.  "That's why I want everyone   here  to  have

blasters,  body  armor,  grenades,  grenade  launchers,  and

command-detonated  mines.  And vac  suits-we're  pressurized

here,  but  what  can be pressurized can be  depressurized."

Tesar  gave  a hiss of Barabel amusement. "The major  speakz

wisdom," he said.

The  turbolift seemed to take an eternity in its glide

toward the fighter docking bays. Jacen used his private comm

to  call his astromech droid and have the fighter ready  for

him.

The Jedi meld sang in his mind. He was aware of his own

anxiety  eddying out to the others, reflecting  back  toward

him. He remembered how the Force-meld had kept dissolving on

Myrkr, as Jedi were hurt or died, or fought one another over

strategy, and he tried to keep his worries from feeding  out

into the others.

The  turbolift  jolted to a stop. It  had  come  to  a

bulkhead, and all bulkheads were sealed during combat.

Jacen  flung  the lift doors open with the  Force  and

sprinted for one of the internal air locks that communicated

between bulkheads. There was another eternity while the lock

recycled,  and  then a narrow, spiral stair-Jacen  used  the

Force  to  fly  down  it-and  then  another  bulkhead   that

communicated to the docking bay deck.

He  wasn't surprised to find Vergere waiting for  him.

She held up a hand.

"Where arc you going?"

Jacen didn't break stride. "To help Jaina."

"You cannot help. Ebaq is being attacked by a squadron

of  capital  ships.  Your single starfighter  will  make  no

difference."

"I  have  to try." Jacen sprinted on. His  X-wing  was

alone  in the docking bay next to a partially dismantled  A-

wing,  its  weapons  and sensor system scavenged  to  repair

other star-fighters.

"Stop. This is not your destiny."

"Maybe not, but it's ray family."

Vergere followed Jacen, flying on pulses of the  Force

to  match  Jacen's  running pace.  "What  can  you  hope  to

accomplish besides your own destruction?" she demanded.

Anger  flamed  through his mind. Jacen turned  to  the

little  alien  and  put a hand on his lightsaber.  "Are  you

proposing to stop me?" he demanded.

Vergere settled onto the deck and slowly, sadly  bowed

her  head. "I will not stop you, Jacen Solo. You have chosen

your  destiny." Her eyes glittered. "It is the  consequences

you must deal with now."

Jacen  turned and vaulted into the cockpit. He  closed

the canopy and put on his helmet.

Through the Force, he could feel the cold fear that ran

through Jaina's nerves.

He opened the comm and asked Ralroosts docking control

for permission to launch.

The  Millennium Falcon skimmed along the hull  of  the

enemy  cruiser, quad lasers pumping shots into the  hull  as

well  as  toward the coralskippers that danced  astern.  The

coralskipper pilots were having a problem trying to nail the

agile  Falcon without hitting their own ship,  and  Han  was

trying to make the solution to that problem as difficult  as

he  could.  The  Yuuzhan Vong had already put several  shots

into their own vessel, and Han didn't want them to stop now.

The  problem  was that Millennium Falcon  hadn't  been

built as a bomber. Proton torpedoes and shadow bombs had the

punch  to knock out a capital ship, but Falcon didn't  carry

either.  Neither  did Lando's Lady Luck nor  Talon  Karrde's

Wild  Karrde-they'd been built with the intention of keeping

patrol  craft off their backs, not with having to knock  out

large targets.

They all had to improvise. Han figured the best way to

splatter a big Yuuzhan Vong ship was to trick the Vong  into

doing it for him.

And  that's  just what happened. One of  the  pursuing

Yuuzhan  Vong  tried  to duck closer  to  the  cruiser  than

Falcon,  in  order  to  shoot up at Han  without  danger  of

hitting  his  own vessel, but unfortunately he forgot  about

Leia's bodyguard Meewalh in the belly turret. Meewalh gave a

yowl  of pleasure at the appearance of the target and hurled

an  array  of laser bolts at the Vong. The enemy  pilot  was

either   hit   or  dazzled  by  the  flares,   because   the

coralskipper splashed into the enemy cruiser, its  store  of

weapons  erupting in fire as it slashed a brilliant  flaming

scar across the giant hull.

Han  shot  off  the bow of the cruiser  and  performed

another frantic series of evasive maneuvers before the skips

on  his  tail  were  dispersed or discouraged.  Behind,  the

cruiser  shivered  as secondary explosions  blasted  outward

through  its coral skin. The cruiser arced into a wide  turn

as  dovin  basals used for propulsion along  one  side  were

destroyed, while those on the other side continued to  drive

the  ship forward, like a rowboat with one oar pulling while

the other trailed in the water.

Another ship turned away from Jaina. He could leave it

to Bel Iblis's fleet to finish the cruiser off.

He  cast  a  glance  at Leia, who was  sitting  white-

knuckled in the copilot's seat. "How are we doing?"

She  shook her head. "Bel Iblis has caught up  to  the

rearmost  enemy. But we're still the only force between  the

Yuuzhan Vong and Ebaq Nine."

"Better find us another target, then," Han said.

The  Smugglers' Alliance squadron was doing a  lot  of

brilliant  flying, but it was outnumbered and  many  of  its

ships,  like  Millennium  Falcon, were  unsuited  for  fleet

combat. Fortunately the enemy seemed largely at a loss as to

how  to  cope  with the attack-the Alliance had  no  uniform

ships,  therefore no uniform tactics, and  that  meant  that

both  sides were improvising, and the smugglers  had  a  lot

more experience at improvising than the Yuuzhan Vong.

"Look  out!" At the yelp from Leia, Han jerked at  the

sweat-slick controls and managed to avoid being  swatted  by

the  huge  Errant Venture, the only real capital ship  under

his  command.  The Star Destroyer was pumping  fire  in  all

directions,  from  every weapon on  the  ship,  and  as  the

largest New Republic target was receiving a lot of attention

in  return. Booster Terrik was driving straight at one enemy

ship  after  another, trying to force them away  from  their

course-a tactic fraught with hazard, but thus far he  seemed

to be doing well enough. Perhaps the Vong remembered the way

Lusan-kya had rammed their worldship at Borleias.

Han  found a pair of smuggler ships in the melee,  and

these  had  proton missile launchers. "Follow me,"  he  told

them, "I'll carve a path for you."

And he led them in another slash at the Yuuzhan Vong.

And  later, after more slashes than he could remember,

he saw the enemy battle group turn away from its objective.

Tsavong  Lah howled in triumph as the Battle Group  of

Yun-Yuuzhan, completely unmolested, drew near to Ebaq 9.  He

had caught the infidels utterly by surprise.

"Open  fire on the shields!" he commanded.  "Kusurrun,

you  will dive onto the shield over the enemy command center

at maximum thrust! Victory Section, you will follow Kusurrun

to the shields and try to destroy them."

As  the  other  ships hammered away at the  defenders,

Kusurrun  made its death-dive toward the moon.  The  frigate

made a colossal impact on the shields, debris rising amid  a

roil  of  brilliant  plasma jets. Other ships  dived  close,

their  dovin  basals reaching out to snatch at the  shields,

trying to overload them.

No success, but the warmaster wasn't distressed. He had

plenty of time before the nearest enemy could reach him.

Tsavong Lah ordered another frigate to immolate itself,

and  then  paused to consider the rest of the battle.  Blaze

bugs, their lights and voices extinguished, represented  the

hundreds  of craft that had been destroyed. His forces  were

being  overwhelmed, even the Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah  that

he'd  ordered  to join him. The little motley squadron  that

stood in its way was, it appeared, too troublesome.

"Attention  all  other battle groups!"  he  commanded.

"Once  our  troops  arc down on Ebaq, you arc  commanded  to

withdraw into hyperspace and make your way Yuuzhan'tar. This

battle  is lost, but you are ordered to preserve your  lives

and ships for the victorious battles that will follow.

"The  Battle  Group  of Yun-Yuuzhan  will  cover  your

withdrawal."  He drew his slashed lips back  for  his  final

message,  which he shouted in a tone of angry defiance  that

filled  the  huge  room.  "Praise to  the  gods!  Long  live

Shimrra, the Supreme One! Do-ro'ik vong pratte!"

The group commanders-those who still lived-returned the

warrior salute.

Ebaq 9's shields shuddered as another frigate thundered

down.

Tsavong Lah sat back in his chair and ordered  another

capital  ship to its death. "Prepare the oggzil,"  he  said,

and   as   one  of  his  subalterns  attached  the  grasping

appendages  of the creature to one of the villips  used  for

communication,  Tsavong  Lah  detached  himself   from   the

cognition throne and lumbered from the dais.

He wanted to deliver this particular message himself.

The  oggzil  had enfolded the villip by  the  time  he

arrived,  its long antenna-tail dangling. Tsavong  Lah  took

the  creature in one hand, gazed at it, and forced his  face

into a smile.

Knowing that the oggzil was broadcasting his words and

his  image on New Republic frequencies, he said in his crude

Basic,  "This  is  Warmaster Tsavong Lah. We  arc  having  a

Jeedai  hunt on Ebaq Nine! Although anyone else coming  near

will be destroyed, all Jeedai are welcome to participate!"

Chapter 26

The  commander's voice hissed with interference  as  he

spoke,  through  the  comm, from his armored  communications

center  in the old mine headquarters. "They've brought  down

our shields. We're evacuating into the bunkers."

"Thanks for letting us know," Jaina said. She shivered

from cold as she signed to Lowbacca to seal the blast doors.

"We're setting the mines," the commander said.  "We're

going to nail a lot of them as they come in."

"Good  luck," Jaina said, but hydraulics began hissing

and  the doors boomed shut, and she doubted the signal  ever

reached  the  commander  in his communications  center  just

below the surface of the moonlet.

Jaina  turned off the comm and looked at her group  of

pilots. "Put on your vac suits. And our body armor over  the

vac suits."

At that moment the artificial gravity switched off. And

so did the lights.

How  many  Yuuzhan Vong warriors to  capture  a  moon?

Tsavong  Lan  wondered.  He  had  twenty  thousand  in   the

troopships under his command, but surely that was excessive.

Ten  thousand,  then. The rest could escape  to  fight

another day.

Nor did he need the entirety of the Battle Group of Yun-

Yuuzhan.  One-third should be sufficient to  repel  the  New

Republic  forces long enough to assure the  success  of  his

sacrifice.

"Come, Jeedai!" he shouted to the oggzil. "Come to the

hunt! Where is your courage?"

Then,  turning to the subalterns around the  cognition

throne,  he  told them to order the other battle  groups  to

withdraw  from  the  fight.  He ordered  two  of  the  three

divisions of his own squadron to flee as well, and half  the

troopships.

"But not those containing grutchyna!" he called. "These

we shall need once we land on the moon!"

The  rock-eating  grutchyna would be  a  surprise,  he

thought.  The  Jeedai would be forced to  move  through  the

tunnels  that already existed, but the grutchyna  could  dig

their own.

But  before  the grutchyna landed, the soldiers  would

have to secure the area. He ordered the first transports  to

the surface, covered by the fire of the ships above.

"Warmaster!" came the call from one of his subalterns.

"A report from the Battle Group of Yun-Harla. They succeeded

in  withdrawing into hyperspace, but their jump has  failed.

They report mines. . ."

Mines. . .

The Battle Group of Yun-Harla and the Battle Group  of

Yun-Txiin  leapt into hyperspace together, racing to  safety

down  the narrow corridor that snaked through the Deep Core.

But  both  were yanked out of hyperspace by the  interdiktor

mine that had been set up in the lane's choke point, and all

then   found  themselves  in  the  middle  of  the  enormous

minefield  that  had  been  laid  clean  across  the  narrow

corridor.

Every  second  the  enemy remained in  the  minefield,

thousands  of  mines  detected the intruders,  swung  toward

their new targets, and fired themselves at the Yuuzhan Vong.

Many of the Yuuzhan Vong ships were damaged and unable

to  defend  themselves properly. Overwhelmed by  the  mines,

many  of  these were destroyed in a blizzard of  explosions.

The  few  with undamaged defenses fared better,  though  few

escaped without any damage at all.

The  Battle Group of Yun-Q'aah, which had been engaged

by  the  fleet  of  Garm Bel Iblis and the small  Smugglers'

Alliance squadron, managed a clean jump into hyperspace  and

arrived  in  the minefield more or less together.  Fewer  of

their ships had suffered critical damage, and most were able

to fight their way out.

The  two-thirds of Tsavong Lah's Battle Group of  Yun-

Yuuzhan were warned of the minefield's existence before they

jumped,  prepared themselves beforehand, and fared  best  of

all.  But the lightly armed troop transports were unable  to

defend  themselves effectively, and within a few minutes  in

the  minefields ten thousand Yuuzhan Vong warriors met their

deaths.

As  for the Battle Group of Yun-Yammka, it was too far

into  Ebaq's  gravity field to jump, pinned by  overwhelming

New Republic forces, and wiped out.

More  than a third of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet had  been

destroyed,  and that did not count the remainder of  Tsavong

Lah's  battle  group, gathered about Ebaq 9 to defend  their

commander and his ground forces.

There, the first Yuuzhan Vong warriors to charge  into

the New Republic command centers were met by automatic mines

that  shredded  them through their vonduun crab  armor.  The

warriors  charged  over their own dead and encountered  even

more mines.

"You  are  already dead!" Tsavong  Lah  told  them  by

villip. "The only question is whether you will die honorably

as  Yuuzhan Vong, or as a cowardly disgrace to the gods  who

made you!"

None of the warriors were cowards. More than a thousand

gave  their lives to the mines, and the rest trampled  their

dead  brethren and found only an abandoned facility.  There,

they wrecked enough of the equipment to finish off the power

supply and drop all of Ebaq's shields.

"Bring  Blood Sacrifice to the surface!"  Tsavong  Lah

commanded. "We will release the gnitchyna-and the voxyn!"

The  huge flagship was brought to the moon's  surface.

Before  Tsavong Lah left for the moon, he seized the  oggzil

again and shouted again in Basic.

"Are  you not coming, Jeedai? Won't you join the hunt?

Where is your courage?"

To  his  surprise,  the answering  voice  was  one  he

recognized.

"This is Jacen Solo," the villip reported. "I'll  play

your game, Warmaster."

Tsavong Lah's answer was filled with grim satisfaction.

"Welcome,  traitor!  I  shall look  forward  to  seeing  you

again."

"And I you, Warmaster."

Menace rang in the warmaster's words. "Once I swore to

sacrifice  you,  Jacen  Solo.  Perhaps  we  shall  have  the

sacrifice after all."

"Perhaps  I'll manage to delay it again," Jacen  said.

"Will you let me land, Warmaster?"

"Any Jeedai may land. I will so instruct the fleet."

"That's very courteous of you, Warmaster."

"Not  at  all. Would you come to Ebaq if I  order  the

fleet to blast you out of existence the second you arrived?"

Jacen  would,  but there was no point in  telling  the

warmaster that.

"I'll see you soon, Warmaster," Jacen said, and  keyed

off.

His astromech droid bleated at him to let him know  he

had another incoming call. Jacen switched frequencies.

"Jacen," Luke said. "What are you doing?"

"Helping my sister." Jacen couldn't quite keep defiance

out  of  his  voice. Jacen felt a surge of  Luke's  presence

through  the Jedi meld, a forceful effort by Luke to contact

him emotionally as well as by words.

"You  can't  help her by sacrificing  yourself,"  Luke

said.

"I'm not planning on getting sacrificed."

"Jaina and the others are in a hardened bunker. All she

has  to  do is wait there until the fleet comes to get  her.

And we are coming, all of us. Kre'fey, Farlander, Bel Iblis.

And your parents."

Jacen felt the Force-meld urging him to listen to Luke,

to  surrender  to  his reasonable argument.  He  fought  the

compulsion and tried to sound as calm and reasonable  as  he

could.

"I don't trust Tsavong Lah to do what people expect him

to,"  he  said. "I felt your surprise when he moved on  Ebaq

Nine."

Luke didn't have an answer for that.

"I have a plan," Jacen continued. "I'm not going to run

right into his arms, I'm going to distract him and keep  him

off Jaina's neck."

A stab of fear ran through the Jedi meld, and the taste

of it was Jaina's.

"Jaina's  being hunted," Jacen said. "I've got  to  go

now."

He snapped off the comm. Luke and others continued  to

try to contact him through the meld, but Jacen withdrew, and

tried instead to concentrate on his Vongsense. He was out of

practice-- there had been no Yuuzhan Vong to practice on-but

as he slowed his respiration and entered a meditative state,

he  felt the enemy out ahead of him, grim determined  flecks

of  consciousness,  all  ready to sacrifice  themselves  for

their leaders.

Yuuzhan   Vong  bravery  and  determination   weren't

surprising. What did surprise him was the numbers.

On Ebaq alone, there must have been thousands.

Jaina  waited in the dark. The Jedi were perfectly  at

home  in  the  dark, strengthened by the Force and  able  to

sense  the walls around them, but she felt anxiety  grow  in

her  non-Jedi  companions, so she had  them  all  switch  on

helmet lights and belt lights.

Through the Jedi meld she felt the growing certainty of

victory,  and  then the growing triumph as one Yuuzhan  Vong

squadron  after  another fled the battle.  She  sensed  that

Jacen was doing something completely out of the box, but she

didn't  know  what, and she sensed the others trying  to  do

something  about  it. Distress trickled  into  her  at  this

knowledge, but she didn't have a comm unit that could  reach

Jacen,  and  she couldn't talk to him. She had made  up  her

mind  to  try  to reach him through the meld when  something

else drew her attention.

Or perhaps, something not else.

Through the enhanced perceptions of the Force-meld she

felt  an  emptiness, a void. Something that was not  in  the

Force.

The Yuuzhan Vong.

And  then  she  felt  a  surge through  the  Force,  a

purposeful sensation as malevolent and certain as the  sound

of a blaster being cocked next to her ear. Voxyn.

Voxyn hunting her.

Lowbacca snarled.

"Remind  me to tell the high command how much  I  hate

their  battle  plan,"  Jaina said. There  were  hundreds  of

mineshafts in the old diggings, and a dozen or so  that  had

been  shielded by blast doors to delay the enemy.  Some  had

been  booby-trapped  to make the Vong cautious.  The  battle

plan  assumed that the odds of the Yuuzhan Vong finding  her

particular  blast  doors  and  committing  their  forces  to

breaking through were very low.

The  battle plan hadn't assumed the presence of  voxyn

that  could sense any Force-user and lead the enemy straight

to  Jaina, whether she was anonymous behind blast  doors  or

not.

"Too bad we don't have any of those YVH droids," one of

her pilots said.

"There  aren't enough of them," Jaina said. "The  ones

they've  got  are guarding the government." She  considered.

"Stand  well away from the doors," Jaina decided.  "I  don't

know  what  they're going to use to bring them down,  but  I

know I don't want to be anywhere near the blast."

"Perhaps it iz time to deploy the minez," Tesar  said.

His vac-suited tail lashed left and right.

"Yes.  But  away from the entrance. I don't  want  our

mines wrecked by whatever they use to knock the door down."

And  then, on cue, they felt as well as heard a crash.

The   floor  trembled,  and  the  still  air  of  the  shaft

reverberated to the sudden thunder that came from the  other

side of the blast door.

The  eight pilots of Twin Suns Squadron fell back down

the  tunnel  without a word. They busied themselves  in  the

dark setting up antipersonnel mines while the crash repeated

itself again and again.

It  was through the Force as much as by eyesight  that

Jaina  sensed part of the wall cracking, parts of it flaking

off and coming down.

"They're  not  coming  through the  door!"  she  said.

"They're coming around it!"

Something else the plan had not foreseen.

The  Yuuzhan Vong filled the long tunnel that ran  the

length of the moon, a thousand in the advance guard followed

by   baying   voxyn   and  a  pair  of  massive   grutchyna,

surprisingly light and agile in the low gravity.  Then  came

the  main body, with Tsavong Lah and half the communications

staff from the Blood Sacrifice.

Explosions ripped the air ahead, and two score of  the

advance guard went down in their own blood-another trap laid

by  the cowardly infidels, who would not fight hand to  hand

but instead with these machine snares. The rest marched over

them, past one set of durasteel blast doors after another.

The Yuuzhan Vong would not halt until the voxyn did.

The voxyn, their sensory bristles erect, stopped before

a  blast door indistinguishable from the others. One of them

was  so  close  to  death that it could barely  drag  itself

along,  even in the low gravity. They tasted the  door  with

their forked tongues, and then their howling filled the huge

tunnel and sang like a melody in Tsavong Lah's nerves.

"Voxyn back!" Tsavong Lah told the trainers. "Bring the

grutchyna forward!"

The grutchyna were sleek black armor-plated beasts six

meters   long,  much  larger  cousins  of  the  metal-eating

grutchins  that Yuuzhan Vong fighter craft used as  weapons.

The  grutchyna lacked the grutchins' flight capability,  but

also  their  mindlessness: these were  trainable  and  semi-

intelligent,  and  Tsavong  Lah had  brought  them  on  this

expedition knowing he might have to dig the infidels out  of

their hiding places.

The huge beasts snarled forward, steel-sharp mandibles

deployed.  Tsavong  Lah looked for a  moment  at  the  blast

doors, then shouted at the trainers.

"Have them dig through the tunnel walls! The walls are

softer, and the doors may be mined!"

The tunnel shivered as the grutchyna hurled themselves

at the rock walls. Tsavong Lah, thinking of mines, prudently

retreated into the main body. He had no fear of death-and in

any  case he knew he would die today-but dying foolishly  as

the victim of a mine would be to trivialize his own end.

"Blood  Sacrifice reports that Jacen Solo has landed,"

one of his subalterns reported.

"Very good," Tsavong Lah said. "Did Blood Sacrifice say

where?"

The  subaltern communed with his villip for a  moment.

"Not at the main entrance. Somewhere on the far side."

Tsavong  Lah drew his slashed lips into a  smile.  "We

shall  find  him  soon  enough."  He  turned  to  the  voxyn

handlers. "Two voxyn to join the advance guard!" he ordered.

"All of them to find Jacen Solo!"

"At your command, Warmaster!"

"Capture  him for sacrifice if possible. But  if  not,

call the gods to witness and kill him where he stands!"

Tsavong  Lah had to shout over the noise the grutchyna

made disassembling the tunnel wall. Two of the voxyn snorted

on to the head of the advance guard, and the whole body of a

thousand set off at a purposeful trot.

Jacen  Solo.  At the thought of Jacen the  warmaster's

vua'sa  foot  clenched, the claws scoring the  stone  floor.

Jacen  had thwarted him at their every encounter-had smashed

his  foot in personal combat, requiring its replacement, and

when  captured  had humiliated him with his sham  defection.

Now Jacen dared to thwart him again.

It  was only now that he wondered why. Why would Jacen

Solo  fly  alone  to Ebaq 9 so that he could  be  hunted  by

Tsavong Lah and ten thousand Yuuzhan Vong warriors?

At once the answer came to him. The twin sister!

Jaina Solo-she who mocked Yun-Harla the Trickster with

her devious ploys-must be among the Jedi trapped on Ebaq 9.

Joy raged in Tsavong Lah's breast. The twin sacrifice!

Once he had planned to sacrifice the Solo twins, an ambition

that had been thwarted by the treasons of Jacen and Vergere.

But  now the sacrifice would come to pass! And once the  two

were  dead, Tsavong Lah himself could go to his gods with  a

smile on his slashed lips.

The  tunnel  wall  crashed in as the  grutchyna  broke

through to the mineshaft beyond. "Onward, soldiers!" Tsavong

Lah cried. "The Jeedai are to be sacrificed! Forward!"

Jaina  heard the tunnel wall come down, and  then  she

heard  the massed baying of Yuuzhan Vong warriors  from  the

corridor beyond. It sounded like thousands of them.  "Back!"

she said. "Fall back to the next intersection."

They  left antipersonnel mines behind, set to go  off'

when  they  detected the body heat of the  enemy.  The  mine

galleries branched here, and Jaina consulted the map of  the

diggings  she'd stored on her datapad and chose  the  branch

that  gave her the most options. They moved down the tunnel,

and  the  Jedi used the Force to keep everyone from  bumping

into each other in the low gravity.

Then  came  a  shriek, a screech  with  an  ultrasonic

component that froze Jaina's blood and raised the  hairs  on

the back of her neck.

"What was that?" one of her pilots demanded.

"Voxyn," Tesar said. "They hunt uss."

"We can kill them, right?" Anxiously.

She heard one mine go off, followed by a shriek and  a

roar of anger from a hundred warrior throats.

"I hope we just did," Jaina said.

Jacen  sped down the corridor, flying easily with  the

Force in the moonlet's light gravity, his flashlight picking

out the details of the tunnels ahead of him. He, too, had  a

map  of  Ebaq  9 on his datapad, and he figured the  Yuuzhan

Vong were in occupation of the command areas and the central

corridor. He planned to materialize in the central corridor,

strike the Yuuzhan Vong, then retreat. He would do his  best

to sow confusion and lead the enemy away from Jaina.

At  least he could lead the voxyn on a chase, and with

any luck trap them in the narrow passages and kill them.

His  expanded  Vongsense filled the  moon.  The  sheer

number  of  enemy warriors was intimidating,  but  he  still

hoped that, with luck, his plan would succeed.

Unfortunately his equipment was sparse. He had just his

lightsaber,  plus  the blaster pistol and the  two  grenades

that  were in the X-wing's survival kit. But he could  fight

with Yuuzhan Vong weapons if he needed to, and if he got the

jump  on  some  enemy warriors he could equip  himself  with

their gear.

And  then he felt the mental surge of a voxyn  looking

for  him,  and  he pushed out with his Vongsense,  tried  to

convince  the  voxyn not to see him. But  he  wasn't  expert

enough-there was a mental click of the voxyn locking  on  to

him, and he heard a distant howl that echoed down the shaft,

followed  by a surge of glee and determination from hundreds

of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, and he knew he was being hunted.

He reversed direction-there was no possibility now  of

catching the Yuuzhan Vong by surprise. It was time  to  find

one of those narrow corridors he'd been thinking about.

Jacen  found  a right-angle bend in the  corridor  and

decided  to  make  a stand while he still  had  options  for

retreat.  He stationed himself behind a curve in the  tunnel

and  ignited  his lightsaber, then primed  one  of  his  two

grenades  and  held  it  in his left  hand.  Objectively  he

considered  the  use  of the Vongsense  in  combat-he  could

influence some of the enemy weapons, render them useless-but

decided against it. There were simply too many enemy  coming

for  him.  He  could convince a few of their amphistaffs  to

bite  their owners or go limp, he could convince a few  thud

bugs  to  go off prematurely-but he couldn't influence  them

all.

The  Force was better for this situation. He  let  his

Vongsense ebb and called the force to him.

He heard the enemy rush toward him, shouts and the rush

of  feet.  A horde packed into the corridor, skimming  along

under the light gravity.

The  ultrasonic screech of the voxyn caught  Jacen  by

surprise  and  almost  paralyzed him-he  had  forgotten  how

numbing  and  terrifying the sound was. He wrenched  himself

free  of the shock and hurled the grenade around the corner,

exposing his head just enough to use the Force to guide  the

grenade down the open mouth of the voxyn. The voxyn, in  its

turn, was spitting toxic sludge at Jacen, but Jacen used the

Force  to  catch  the acid stuff and flung it  back  in  the

direction of the enemy warriors.

What shocked him was the number of those same warriors.

It  was  one  thing to sense diem coming; it was another  to

actually see them, and at close range. They seemed to go  on

forever down the tunnel. There were hundreds . . .

He  ducked back around the corner as the grenade  took

off  most of the voxyn's head. Jacen knew that even this was

unlikely to kill the creature, so he drew his blaster pistol

with his left hand and began firing around the corner again,

at the voxyn and at any enemy warriors behind it.

The  voxyn, blinded or mad with pain, thrashed in  the

corridor  with  amazing  energy and  incredible  speed.  Its

flogging tail had already brought down a number of warriors,

but  as Jacen began firing, again exposing only his hand and

head,  the  Yuuzhan  Vong gave a shout and  surged  forward,

right  over  the  thrashing voxyn,  some  even  shoving  the

creature  ahead  of them as they impaled themselves  on  its

poisoned  spikes. From the warriors' hands came  a  rain  of

thud bugs.

Jacen leapt back from the corner, parrying wildly with

his  lightsaber as the thud bugs soared toward  him,  either

making the sharp turn or bouncing off a wall and then coming

on. One bug hit him on the thigh and spun him around, and he

used  the Force to maintain the spin, his lightsaber a green

blur as he batted the missiles away. He made a complete turn

and  then  used the Force to hurl himself backward down  the

tunnel  while he parried with his lightsaber and  fired  the

pistol left-handed to discourage the Vong from rounding  the

corner.

He  didn't discourage them. The first half dozen  went

down  in a sprawl alongside the wounded voxyn, but then  the

rest  came on, a long column of them, shouting their  battle

cry.

"Do-ro'ik vong pratte!"

From  behind  them somewhere came the cry  of  another

voxyn.

Jacen fired round after round from the blaster, though

he  knew it would do no good. And somewhere in the Force, he

felt Jaina's anguish.

"Bring the roof down," Jaina said. "Right here."

"How?" one of her pilots asked. "We've got mines,  not

explosives."

Jaina reached out with the Force and sought out cracks

and  flaws in the structure of the stone overhead. Tesar and

Lowbacca joined their power to hers.

"Stand  back," Jaina said. A half-ton overhead boulder

came  down  with  a  sudden crash, followed  by  debris  and

rubble. She widened the hole overhead, gouging at the  rock,

bringing more of it down.

Then  a  shriek  seemed to steal the breath  from  her

throat,  and a voxyn was there, somehow managing  to  writhe

through the storm of falling rock and leap into the midst of

Jaina's party. She had forgotten how fast they were.

She managed to get a Force shield up in time to deflect

a  hail of toxic spit, and leapt over the first lash of  the

tail  while  she drew her lightsaber and ignited the  violet

blade.  There  was  a  thud and a cry behind  her.  Blasters

flamed  in the dark, confined space, and concussions slapped

her  ears.  Lowbacca was slashing at the thing's  head,  the

brilliance  of  his lightsaber reflecting  off  the  voxyn's

glittering eyes.

The  tunnel reeked of the voxyn's acid spit. The  tail

lashed  a second time and Jaina leapt again, then came  down

slashing  at  the tail. The tail parted near its  root,  and

acrid blood spattered Jaina's vac suit.

And  then the three Jedi were fighting side  by  side,

lightsabers  swinging  in a frenzy of close  combat  against

teeth   and   claws  and  poison  and  sheer   single-minded

viciousness. Whenever one of the other pilots  could  get  a

clear  shot  he  let  fly  with a blaster.  Blood  and  acid

spattered and hissed on the tunnel walls.

The  voxyn didn't stop fighting until it was literally

cut  to  pieces, and the fight left Jaina exhausted, gasping

for  breath  and leaning against the wall of the shaft.  She

had taken only a few breaths when she heard the howl of Vong

warriors, and looked up to sec them filling the tunnel  just

beyond her rock barrier.

A  barrage  of  thud bugs came over  the  obstruction,

followed  by  a mob of warriors scrabbling over  the  fallen

stone.  Jaina fired her blaster rifle left-handed at  point-

blank  range while using her light-saber to slice  the  thud

bugs that came at her.

"The roof!" she gasped. "Let's get the roof down!"

She  and Tesar and Lowbacca united their Force talents

once  more and clawed at the roof, bringing down rubble  and

stones  at  first,  then boulders. Blaster bolts  ricocheted

among  the rocks, reflecting in all directions-Jaina parried

one  with her violet blade. And then the roof was down  with

the sound of thunder, a billowing cloud wall of dust rolling

down  the mineshaft toward Jaina. She had seen at least half

a dozen Yuuzhan Vong warriors buried.

"That  won't hold them long," one of her pilots  said.

"Those rocks won't weigh much in this gravity. And look  how

they got around the blast doors."

Maybe it'll hold them long enough for me to get another

idea.., Jaina thought.

"Pull back," she gasped. She wiped dust and sweat from

her  face  and felt a faint surprise that she had any  sweat

left.

It was only then that she found she had casualties. Her

stomach  queased as she saw Twin Four sprawled  against  the

wall  where  the voxyn's tail had thrown him, his  vac  suit

punctured by a score of poison spines. Twin Seven  had  been

hit  in  the  chest by a thud bug and knocked sprawling.  He

claimed he'd just had the wind knocked out of him, but Jaina

didn't  like  the way his face shivered with pain  when  the

others stood him on his feet.

Two  carried Twin Four's body to the rear, and another

two  supported  Twin Seven. The Jedi stayed behind  as  rear

guard  until  they  reached  a three-way  intersection.  The

pilots  ahead  halted,  and one  of  them  looked  over  his

shoulder.

"Which way, Major?"

Jaina pulled her datapad from the pocket on her sleeve

and  looked at it. The map seemed to swirl before her  eyes.

She  was  too  tired  to think properly, she  realized.  She

forced her mind to work on the problem.

"You  go left," she said. "Streak and Tesar and I  are

going straight ahead."

"Wait a minute!" Twin Ten, with Twin Seven's arm around

his shoulders, was indignant. "What do you mean by splitting

us up?"

"The  Vong  are hunting Jedi," Jaina said. "You'll  be

safe  if  you take a detour. And we'll be safer if we  don't

have to worry about protecting you."

And you won't die with us, she thought.

"We can fight, Major!" Twin Ten insisted. "We can help

you!"

"I appreciate it, but-"

"We haven't come this far with you just to let you  go

off  and fight the Vong on your own. You made us a team, and

we're sticking together."

Jaina  fought back the tears that suddenly  stung  her

eyes.  This  was the fighting spirit that she  had  created,

created with the drills and painstaking labor and blood. But

all this admirable resolution could do right now was get the

others killed unnecessarily.

She  straightened and took a breath and looked at Twin

Ten.  "Do  I  have  to make this an order, Lieutenant?"  she

asked.

Anger and frustration twitched across Twin Ten's face.

Then he shook his head. "I guess not, Major," he said.

"Then get moving. I'll sec you when this is over."

Jaina  watched for a moment as her weary pilots limped

away, then dragged herself down the tunnel she'd chosen. Her

mind swam with weariness.

"Gather strength from the Force," Tesar said.  It  was

more an order than a suggestion.

Jaina  was  too  tired  to agree  verbally;  she  just

expanded  her Force awareness and let its power  drain  into

her.  There was a limit as to how long she could  keep  this

up-ultimately  there  was no substitute  for  nutrition  and

bedrest-but  as  the Force swam through her  body,  flushing

every   cell   with  energy,  she  found  herself   standing

straighter.  Her  step  was more firm,  her  breathing  less

labored.  She consulted the map in her datapad  and  made  a

decision.

"We turn here."

Tesar  and Lowie looked at the blank tunnel  walls  in

surprise. Lowie growled a question.

In answer, Jaina pointed above their heads.

An air shaft went up, connecting the tunnel to another

gallery  above their heads. The other two used the Force  to

help Jaina rise into the shaft, and then by bracing her arms

and  feet against the rough sides of the shaft she was  able

to  chimney  up  six or seven meters to the  gallery  above,

where she turned and aided the others. The maneuver was made

very  easy by the light gravity. Even Lowbacca didn't  weigh

any more than fifteen kilos.

Tesar turned on his belt light and looked each way down

the  corridor.  Frost glittered on the  rough  stone  walls.

"Where now?" he asked.

"We wait right here. We can hold this shaft forever, or

at  least until they find another way into this gallery. And

then when they come, we run the other way."

Tesar seemed to find this plan acceptable and switched

off his belt light. The three stood in the frigid tunnel and

waited, knowing they wouldn't wait long.

Jaina  closed her eyes and opened herself to the  Jedi

meld. Uncle Luke., she sent, where are you?

Luke was wondering how to retake the moon when the New

Republic  didn't  have  any  troops  on  hand.  They  hadn't

anticipated ground combat, so the only forces available were

the  lightly  armed  military police on  the  large  capital

ships.

These, and the Jedi. Whom Warmaster Tsavong Lah  hoped

would  land  on the little moonlet. Whom he had  invited  to

land.

The  New Republic forces were on the verge of engaging

the small squadron the Yuuzhan Vong had left behind to guard

their  ground  forces. The Yuuzhan Vong would fight  bravely

but wouldn't last long against the New Republic's numbers.

Luke wondered how long it had been since the odds were

on his side. It was then that he felt the query from Jaina.

The  reply he sent was nonverbal, just a basic  mental

impression that meant, Where are you?

Jama's response was equally nonverbal, pictures as well

as anything else. Tunnel. Voxyn. Troops.

How many troops? Picturing numerals and enemy warriors.

Lots. Coming soon. With mental pictures of Vong packed

shoulder to shoulder in the narrow mineshafts.

Luke  verbalized his next sending. Can you get to  the

surface from where you are?

Negative.

He   clenched  his  teeth.  His  next   message   was

complicated,  and  it  took him  a  moment  to  arrange  his

thoughts.  Would  it be possible to get a  starfighter  down

Ebaq's central shaft?

In Jaina's reply, Luke sensed a weary amusement at the

sheer  audacity of the idea, flying an X-wing down the shaft

and blasting hosts of Yuuzhan Vong from their perches.

In response was a picture of the shaft, which showed it

wide  enough;  but then Jaina sent another  picture  of  the

shaft head, with its heavy ore-hoisting equipment that would

have to be gotten out of the way.

Still, it was the best plan Luke had come up with.

We're coming for you, he sent. Just wait.

Again  Luke  sensed amusement, tinged this  time  with

bitterness. As if Jaina had said, Like I have a choice.

Through the meld, Luke told the other Jedi to  prepare

for  a  landing on Ebaq 9, and a fight against  overwhelming

numbers.

The  first voxyn that Tsavong Lah sent up the vertical

shaft came down in pieces, and was followed by a grenade.  A

dozen brave warriors who tried to chimney up the shaft  were

killed  by  blaster fire before they got  more  than  a  few

meters, and another grenade dropped down and killed a  dozen

more.

This  would delay things only a little. "Send for  the

grutchyna," the warmaster ordered.

He wouldn't send any more brave warriors up that shaft.

Instead  he'd dig away the floor from beneath the  infidels'

feet.

"Blood Sacrifice reports they have engaged the enemy,"

one  of  his  subalterns  reported.  "They  will  delay  the

infidels' arrival as long as possible."

"Tell  the  fleet  that  the gods  will  salute  their

courage." He turned to another subaltern. "How is the search

for Jacen Solo?"

"No  change, Warmaster. He flees, but our  forces  are

keeping him in sight. He--"

"Warmaster!" The subaltern with the oggzil interrupted.

"A communication for you!"

Tsavong  Lah took the oggzil from the subaltern.  "Who

wishes to speak to me?" he demanded.

"Can you not guess, Warmaster?"

At the sound of the voice Tsavong Lah's heart began to

rage  within his chest. "Vergere!" he said in surprise,  and

then he forced amusement into his voice. "Have you called to

beg for the lives of the Solo twins?"

"No. I have come to join your Jedi hunt, if you'll let

me."

The warmaster laughed. "You're a miserable traitor, and

very clever, but you are not a Jeedai"

"But  I  am  a  Jedi. A real Jedi, not  one  of  these

imitations you've been fighting. Haven't you worked that out

by  now?" Smug pleasure oozed from Vergere's words. "I lived

alongside you for fifty years without detection, and then  I

betrayed you. I'm surprised the Supreme Overlord allowed you

to live after I made you look so ridiculous."

Fury gripped Tsavong Lah by the throat. "Come to  Ebaq

Nine!"  he  shouted.  "Come to the  sacrifice  of  the  Solo

twins!"

"If you'll let me."

"I'll instruct the ships to let you by." He threw  the

oggzil back to his subordinate. "See to it!"

"Immediately, Warmaster."

The  packed warriors surged aside as the first of  the

two  grutchyna  arrived, half floating in the  low  gravity.

"Ah,"  he  said to the trainers, and pointed  at  the  roof.

"Begin  there!"  Then  he turned to  the  nearest  group  of

Yuuzhan  Vong.  "Up the shaft, warriors!" he ordered.  "Keep

the Jeedai busy while we dig."

The three Jedi stood in the dark, illuminated only  by

their  light-sabers. Jaina had just begun to think that  the

Yuuzhan  Vong had been too inactive for too long,  when  the

floor reverberated to an impact, and from below there was  a

crash of falling rock.

"Vong!  " Tesar said, and leaned out to fire into  the

shaft  as warriors began to scramble up. Razor bugs shot  up

in  a  useless attempt at providing a covering  attack,  and

Lowbacca  and  Jaina  sliced them  effortlessly  with  their

lightsabers.

The  floor  rocked to another shattering  blow.  Jaina

could hear rock cracking.

Drop a grenade, she thought, and run.

Run  until they caught her. And then fight  until  she

couldn't fight any longer.

Jacen had decided he might as well make his stand. The

mine-shafts  branched and narrowed, branched  and  narrowed,

and  when the roof got less than two meters high he realized

he  was  out of choices. When the tunnels were so  small  he

could  only crouch, then the voxyn would have too  great  an

advantage.

He  made a turn into a branding tunnel and readied his

lightsaber and blaster. He'd save his last grenade  for  the

next voxyn.

The  enemy warriors hurled themselves down the  tunnel

and Jacen fired on them. Thud bugs and blorash jelly flew at

him;  he  ducked  some and cut at others. He  was  strangely

calm.

This wasn't the first time he had made a mistake.  And

dying was nothing new, either.

It  was the thought of Jaina that brought despair.  He

had failed to help her; and through the Force and their twin

bond he felt her own hopelessness.

The  Yuuzhan Vong kept coming, dozens of them lunging,

charging, hurling thud bugs., spitting poison from the heads

of  their  amphistaffs. Jacen's blaster was running  out  of

charges.  His lightsaber was a brilliant green  blur  as  it

parried and slashed. Pace by pace., he stepped back into the

narrowing shaft.

Jacen  felt rage building in him, a red fury that  was

his  response  to his own despair. The blaster hummed  empty

and  he threw it at the warrior. And then he remembered  the

power  he could call upon, the power fueled by the  kind  of

despair  and anger he felt now and had felt before,  and  he

hurled  it  at the warrior, the brilliant emerald fire  that

lanced from his fingertips.

The  Force  lightning threw the first rank of  Yuuzhan

Vong  back  into their comrades, and in the confusion  Jacen

launched  another blaze of fire. He hadn't  killed  them-the

murderous form of lightning was a dark side weapon-but  they

wouldn't be waking for a long time.

"Young Jedi."

Jacen  looked around, and somehow wasn't surprised  to

find  Vergere  standing there. "Hello," he said,  and  fired

another sizzling blast at the Yuuzhan Vong.

Vergere  looked up at him, her tilted eyes  glittering

and wise. "You're about to lose your air," she said.

"Vergere!" the subaltern cried, his voice ringing high

above the sound of the grutchyna bringing down stone.

Tsavong  Lah  swung at the subaltern. "What  of  her?"

Impatiently. "Isn't she coming?"

"She comes! But she isn't slowing down!"

The  A-wing that Vergere stole from Ralroosts  fighter

bays  impacted Ebaq 9's main shaft head traveling at thirty-

five thousand kilometers per hour. The starfighter's weapons

had  been  scavenged  for use elsewhere,  but  weapons  were

scarcely  necessary. The impact vaporized the heavy  girders

and machinery at the shaft head, and the starfighter's power

plant  and the two huge Novaldex engines turned into a fast-

moving  ball  of plasma that swept the length  of  Ebaq  9's

central  shaft  and  blew out the other  side,  a  brilliant

volcanic eruption that blinded any holocams that happened to

be turned in that direction.

As  the  superheated  ion storm rampaged  through  the

moonlet  it flashed into any open side corridors, and  to  a

lesser  degree any corridors branching off these, but  Jaina

and  Jacen  were too deep into the galleries to be  directly

affected.

What  happened  in their galleries  was  an  enormous,

eardrum-punishing buffet of pressure and heat, followed by a

furious  dust  and windstorm that lasted mere  seconds-after

which  the air was simply gone. The hurtling ball of  plasma

pushed  a  huge  pressure wave ahead of it, and  carried  an

underpressure behind, drawing air out of all the  galleries.

In addition, the storm of heat and pressure had set the moon

on fire. Even metal will burn if it's hot enough and there's

enough oxygen to keep the fires going. The fires set by  the

A-wing's  ion  fury were hot enough and powerful  enough  to

suck every bit of oxygen out of the tunnels within seconds.

The Yuuzhan Vong had come prepared for decompression-it

was  an  obvious defense strategy, after all.  All  of  them

carried  ooglith cloakers that would enable them to  survive

without air.

But  they had expected more warning. Even if  the  New

Republic  engineers had blown the shaft head and exposed  it

to the vacuum of space, it would have taken many minutes for

all the great volume of air to evacuate the tunnels, and the

warriors  would  have  had  all that  time  from  the  first

decompression warning to safely don their cloakers.

Those who survived the great wave of heat and radiation

experienced at first the brutal overpressure of the  impact,

followed by a dusty, disorienting, hurricanelike wind as the

air  was  sucked behind the racing plasma ball and into  the

fires of the central core.

The oxygen was gone within two or three seconds of the

impact.  The  few Yuuzhan Vong who realized  what  had  just

happened were caught in a pack of their cohorts, disoriented

and unable to communicate in the sudden absence of air. Many

experienced syncope and passed out at once. Any who tried to

hold  their  breath died of embolism as their lungs  frothed

and  exploded.  In order to survive, any individual  warrior

would  have had to claw his cloaker free and don it  amid  a

scrambling,  staggering, falling crowd of his fellows,  many

of  whom would have tried to snatch the cloaker from him  in

order to don it themselves.

The  three surviving voxyns and the grutchyna  had  no

ooglith  cloakers to wear, and they panicked in the  absence

of air and thrashed madly. Many Yuuzhan Vong were crushed or

poisoned,  slashed or bitten by the dying animals, including

their handlers.

Within twenty seconds, all the Yuuzhan Vong had passed

out. Within minutes, they were dead.

As  deaths  in  battle  go, these  were  comparatively

merciful.

The first blast of heat and pressure knocked Jaina from

the  shaft, staggered with vertigo from the double  slap  to

her ears. "Depressurization!" she called, her mind whirling.

With  one  quick  movement she slapped  her  faceplate

closed.  The  air  around her howled, a screaming  hurricane

that threatened to drag her into the shaft, but within three

seconds this was diminished to nothing.

By  the time she had fully secured her pressure helmet

the air was gone.

About  time,  she thought. She could  have  done  with

engineers blowing the shaft head a lot earlier.

Tesar stood closest to the shaft, able to use his tail

to  brace  himself against the shaft walls and  avoid  being

knocked about by the storm. Jaina gestured at him to take  a

glance down the shaft and see if the enemy were moving.

Tesar looked, then stepped back, one hand gesturing at

Jaina to stay where she was.

Jaina understood. Whatever was happening in the  lower

gallery, it was something she didn't want to watch.

Jacen  watched the Yuuzhan Vong die. He had no helmet,

but  thanks to Vergere's warning he was able to preserve the

air  in  his immediate area with the Force, forming  a  seal

across the tunnel opening ahead of him.

The Yuuzhan Vong fell in graceful silence, one by one,

drop-

ping  slowly in the light gravity like the  petals  of

some absurdly menacing flower.

"I wish I could help them," Jacen said.

"There  is  nothing  more useless than  an  impossible

wish." Vergere was severe.

He turned to her. "You did this, didn't you?"

Vergere's  whiskers twitched with  distaste.  "It  was

necessary that you be liberated from your choices."

Jacen  sighed.  "My choices weren't  very  good,  were

they?"

"You  chose  with  your heart. And you  achieved  your

object, did you not? Your sister lives." She looked  at  him

solemnly. "And I achieved my object as well. You are free to

pursue your destiny."

Truth struck Jacen. He looked at Vergere in shock.

"I just realized," he said. "You're dead, aren't you?"

The  Blood  Sacrifice  blew at  the  same  moment  the

fireball  blossomed  from Ebaq's  far  side,  and  Luke  was

staggered by the double explosion.

He  sought  the  Force-meld, searching  for  the  Jedi

trapped  on  the  moon, but it was some  time  before  their

presence returned to the meld. They had been very busy.

What happened? he demanded.

Depressurization. A picture of wind whirling out of the

tunnel, followed by another picture of enemy dead.

Jaina? Tesar? Sending pictures.

Luke received pictures in return-Jaina and Tesar, hale

and well, beneath the blue skies of some green planet.

And Jacen'?

Jaina's excited presence interrupted. Jacen? He's here?

Yes.  Jacen's  presence in the  meld  was  calm.  With

Vergere. She's saved us.

Vergere, thought Luke. His reaction was strong  enough

to  send  his complex feelings into the Force-meld,  and  he

felt  the  others react. Luke quickly dampened  his  contact

with the meld. There were secrets he didn't want all Jedi to

know.

Was  Vergere  with the Yuuzhan Vong? The complex  idea

took  some time for Luke to formulate. If the answer to  his

question  was  yes, the Yuuzhan Vong knew of the  Alpha  Red

weapon and this whole victory might be pointless.

No.  Vergere's astringent personality flowed into  the

meld  from  wherever  she had been concealing  herself,  and

spoke  with extraordinary clarity. / have been hiding  among

the New Republic forces. I stole a fighter and dived it into

the moon to destroy the enemy.

Luke absorbed the implications of this. You gave  your

life to save the others.

Vergere's  response was the answer she had  given  all

along. It was necessary.

Luke  hesitated. Battle was still raging,  and  people

were still dying.

Hold on, he tried to send. We'll get you out as soon as

we  can.  And  to  the rest of the Jedi, he sent  an  strong

suggestion  not  to  mention Vergere to  anyone.  There  are

reasons.

He shifted his mind to the battle. The Yuuzhan Vong had

fought with their usual tremendous courage, but such courage

hadn't served them well-it had become a trap, as Ackbar  had

foreseen.  Their  formation was broken, their  ships  afire,

their  crews  dying. The New Republic forces were  finishing

them off.

Luke looked at Garm Bel Iblis, saw the man's knifelike

profile gazing intently at the battle display.

"Can we call on them to surrender?" he asked.

Bel  Iblis was surprised. "Why? They'll fight on. They

always do."

"Because it will make us feel better to know  that  we

offered. That we did all we could to preserve life."

Bel Iblis considered this for a moment as he tugged his

long white mustache, then nodded. "Very well," he said.

The  offer  to accept the enemy's surrender  was  made

repeatedly from that moment.

The Yuuzhan Vong did not answer, and died.

Jacen  stood  in the narrow mine gallery  so  that  he

wouldn't  lose body heat by sitting or leaning on  the  cold

stone. He was practicing Tapas, the art of keeping warm in a

cold  environment,  but  he  was  finding  it  difficult  to

concentrate on this and on maintaining the Force shield that

retained his air, and so he was beginning to shiver.

"I got you killed," he said.

Vergere tilted her chin. "Dying was my decision, young

Jedi. Not yours."

"But,"  Jacen reasoned, "I created the situation  that

led to your making that decision."

"In  that case, you may rejoice in the fact that  your

sister is alive." Vergere shook her head. "Both of us  could

not  live.  The situation would not permit that. The  choice

was between the young and promising, as against the wise and

superannuated.  And  given  that choice"-she  sighed-"nature

always chooses the young." She sighed again. "I chose to bow

to the will of nature. My time ended forty years ago. Now at

last I will join my Master, and my old comrades."

Tears  stung Jacen's eyes. "I wish it had  worked  out

differently."

Again  Vergere looked severe. "What did  I  say  about

impossible wishes?"

Jacen  hugged himself, and rubbed his upper  arms  for

warmth. His teeth chattered.

"Can you help me stay warm?" he asked.

Amusement glittered in Vergere's eyes. "My abilities in

this  state are necessarily limited. I suggest you call upon

your other friends."

Mara  felt  the  tension go out of  her  as  Sien  Sow

delivered  his  report  from Bel Iblis's  flagship.  "Master

Skywalker reports that all the Jedi trapped on the moon have

survived. In fact, no Jedi casualties have been reported  at

all."

Sow  looked  as  pleased  as  his  heavy-jowled  face

permitted.  His  step  was  lighter,  and  his  button  eyes

glittered. He turned to Ackbar.

"Your  plan was brilliant, sir," he said.  "It  worked

perfectly."

Ackbar  made  an agitated movement of  his  hands.  "I

should have foreseen the occupation of Ebaq." His words were

slurred,  and  his  skin had turned  gray.  "I  should  have

insisted on ground troops defending that moon."

The  Supreme  Commander wasn't  about  to  let  second

thoughts  spoil  his  victory. "It all worked  out  for  the

best!"  Sow said. He gestured at the holo representation  of

Ebaq's  system.  "Look,  sir! No surviving  enemy  craft-the

board's nothing but blue!"

Ackbar's  whiskered chin fell on his chest. "I  should

have foreseen it," he mumbled.

Winter looked at Mara. "We should get Ackbar home. Will

you help me?"

Mara  and  Winter each took one of Ackbar's  arms  and

helped  him rise. As they made their way out of the  command

center, Ayddar Nylykerka ran up to Mara.

"Now we can roll up their spy networks!" he said. "The

Vong will never believe any of these networks now."

"I've been thinking about that," Mara said. "Maybe  we

should let one of them stay in place."

Nylykerka cocked his head. "Really?" he said. "Can you

explain your reasoning?"

"If we roll up two of the networks and leave the third

alone, that will give the third more credence."

"Hmm. Very intriguing."

Mara  and Nylykerka debated the matter all the way  to

the shuttle gate.

Luke  was eager to mount a rescue mission immediately,

but  the  central  shaft  of Ebaq 9  was  too  hot  and  too

radioactive  for  living beings to enter. Droids  were  sent

instead,   bringing  food,  water,  heaters,  bedding,   and

vacuumproof  tents in which the survivors could  live  while

waiting  for the moon to cool down. Cybot load-lifters  were

used,  on the theory that their unsophisticated brains would

be  less  subject to being scrambled by radiation. MD-series

medical  droids  were sent in as well.  One  of  them  froze

partway in, slagged by radiation, but the others got through

intact.

Jacen was found keeping warm with energy sent to him by

the  Jedi  meld. He set up the tent, ballooned it with  air,

set  up  the  heater, and consumed several warm drinks.  The

medical droid pronounced him well.

The loadlifters found Jaina as well, but were unable to

ascend  the vertical shaft to her hiding place. She,  Tesar,

and  Lowbacca dropped easily through the shaft, and for  the

first time, in the load-lifters' powerful lights, Jaina  saw

the  piles  of Yuuzhan Vong corpses that choked the  tunnel.

She  turned away and hoped she wouldn't be sick in  her  vac

suit.

The  MD  droid's  voice came through  the  headset  of

Jaina's  vac  suit. "I would like to examine you.  And  your

companions."

"We're all right," Jaina answered. If I don't throw up.

"I have a wounded pilot whom you should see first. Walk back

the  way you came, and take the first left facing out.  Keep

hailing on these frequencies and they should answer."

"Very well."

"Take  one  of the loadlifters with you. They'll  need

supplies  as well. And there's a body that will have  to  be

taken out." Maybe thousands of bodies.

The MD droid turned to go.

Then  Jaina was surprised to see the droid's head  fly

off and strike the mineshaft wall.

Tsavong  Lah passed out seconds after the  tunnel  was

depressurized,  and  had  survived only  because  his  aides

fought  off  the other Yuuzhan Vong who would have  trampled

him  just long enough for one of them to deploy the gnullith

that  fed  him air, and the ooglith cloaker that masked  him

against vacuum and cold.

When the warmaster woke, with the gnullith's tube down

his  throat,  he  was  buried under an  insulating  pile  of

Yuuzhan  Vong  dead,  mostly his own  subalterns.  At  first

despair  consumed  him, the knowledge  that  he  had  failed

utterly, that his fleet had been broken and forced to  flee,

and  even  his personal revenge against the Jedi  twins  had

come to nothing. He considered tearing the gnullith from his

face  and dying along with the brave warriors he had led  to

destruction.

But  then he recalled that Jaina and her comrades were

near.  If they had moved while he was unconscious, then  his

revenge  would  still be thwarted, but  there  had  been  no

reason  for  them to move- Jaina was still probably  at  the

head of the vertical shaft just overhead. Animated by sudden

hope,  he clutched his baton of rank and worked his  way  to

the top of the pile of corpses, where he gathered a stock of

weapons.  His baton and the amphistaffs were all  dead,  but

had  frozen into useful positions. Thud and razor bugs  were

no  more  than rocks. But the blorash jelly was in suspended

animation  and would live long enough when triggered  to  do

what he intended. When Tsavong Lah had prepared his arsenal,

he  returned  to the corpses, draping enough arms  and  legs

over himself to remain inconspicuous.

It  was  a  pity  that it wouldn't be  Jacen  Solo  he

confronted  at  the end. But he comforted himself  with  the

thought  that  to kill Jaina would be to hurt Jacen-to  give

him  a  lifelong sorrow that might be more damaging than  if

Jacen himself were killed.

Cold  triumph sang through his nerves as he  began  to

detect  the  powerful lights of the loadlifters  approaching

down the tunnel. He narrowed his eyes, keeping his focus  on

the vertical shaft just a few meters over his head.

Soon he would strike, and take his vengeance.

Jaina twisted as she drew her lightsaber, intending to

spin away from any attacker, but her feet had somehow gotten

stuck  to  the mineshaft floor, and instead of spinning  she

sprawled  to  one  side-  luckily, because  at  that  moment

Tsavong Lah hurled his baton of rank like a spear.

The  baton missed Jaina entirely and impaled Lowbacca,

piercing him clean through the shoulder. The Wookiee  roared

and  wobbled-like Jaina, blorash jelly had pinned him to the

floor- and he fell into Tesar, who was in the act of drawing

his blaster.

Little  jets  of  air began to spurt  from  Lowbacca's

wounds, crystallizing immediately in the vacuum and drifting

to the floor as glittering snow.

Half  deafened by the Wookiee roar she heard over  her

headset,  Jaina hauled herself upright, aided by muscle  and

low  gravity, her lightsaber glowing a soft violet  off  the

cavern  walls.  Tsavong Lah seized an  amphistaff  from  the

weapons he'd strewn nearby and slashed the weapon at Jaina's

head.

Jaina  was  frozen to the floor by blorash jelly,  and

Tsavong  Lah  was  behind  her.  Her  helmet  cut  oft"  her

peripheral vision, and the only way she knew she  was  being

attacked was that she saw Tsavong Lah's madly dancing shadow

cast by the powerful lights of the load-lifters. She dropped

the point of her lightsaber behind her back to guard against

Tsavong Lah's swing, and the impact almost wrenched her  arm

out of its socket.

Her heart thundered in her cars. She twisted as far to

her  right  as  possible in order to see  her  attacker  and

managed to parry the next furious series of strikes. Tsavong

Lah  shifted to her left, and Jaina twisted toward  him  and

swung her lightsaber in a sweeping parry from high to low to

catch any possible strike. Again the impact was massive, and

nearly  tore  the  weapon from her grasp. The  warrior  kept

chopping at her, the amphistaff held in both hands, and  she

parried  furiously. She had no chance to counterattack,  and

the impacts were numbing her arm. If something didn't happen

soon, her weapon would be knocked from her hand.

The  fight  in the vacuum was in utter silence.  Jaina

could hear only her own rasping breath and the throbbing  of

her  heart, and then the silence was broken, over the  comm,

by  Lowbacca's bellow as Tesar yanked the baton out  of  his

shoulder.

"It'z Tsavong Lah!" Jaina was startled by Tesar's words

coming  through her helmet phones. The warmaster's face  was

well known in the New Republic.

"Shoot him!" Jaina said. She didn't much care  who  he

was; she only wanted him dead and her friends safe.

Tesar obliged by firing at the warmaster, the brilliant

blaster  bolts glancing off the rock walls, but the  Yuuzhan

Vong  danced  to  Jaina's right again to put  Jaina  between

himself and Tesar's blaster.

"This  one  must  patch up Lowie!" Tesar  said.  "He'z

losing air! You've got to hold off the Vong!"

"Thanks,"  Jaina muttered. She twisted  to  the  right

again, turning the movement into a cut. She chopped a  chunk

oat of the frozen amphistaff, and Tsavong Lah stepped out of

range  to  pick up another weapon. When he came on again  he

lunged rather than slashed, and Jaina was able to slide  her

blade  into  a circular parry and bind. But in  her  twisted

position  she lacked the leverage of wrist and arm to  force

the  disarm that followed the bind; instead her blade grated

on the amphistaff and locked.

Only  a meter away she could see Tsavong Lah's  silent

snarl  of triumph. He kicked and drove his heel into Jaina's

thigh.

An overwhelming jolt of pain shot through her thigh and

knee.  With  a  cry she lost her grip on her lightsaber  and

pitched forward.

In  front of her Lowbacca crouched before Tesar,  both

nailed  to the ground by blorash jelly. Lowie's hand pressed

on  his  shoulder,  trying to hold in his air,  while  Tesar

worked  frantically to apply a patch to  the  wound  on  the

Wookiee's back.

Jaina  snatched Lowie's lightsaber from his  belt  and

triggered it as she pulled herself to her feet. Tsavong  Lah

had  cleared Jaina's lightsaber from his weapon  and  lunged

forward  again,  and his eyes widened in surprise  as  Jaina

slashed two clawed toes from the radank leg he had implanted

as an arm.

The warmaster stepped back as dark blood oozed from the

wound  and fell with a graceful lack of haste to the  floor.

Jaina kept the lightsaber on guard, pointed at his face.  He

glared at her, red murder glowing in his eyes.

"How's Streak?" she asked.

"He'z passed out. This one has patched the exit wound,

but the wound at the front iz still venting."

Jaina watched Tsavong Lah take a grip on his weapon and

dig his feet into the ground.

"Hurry," she said, "I think I just made him mad."

Tsavong Lah charged, the amphistaff a blur. He attacked

to  Jaina's right side, drawing her lightsaber out of  line,

then  shifted to a vicious overhead cut coming in  from  the

left.  Jaina  managed to block in time, but the impact  bent

her  far over, the air going from her lungs in a whuff.  Her

head low, she could sec the soft violet radiance of her  own

lightsaber lying on the floor past the war-master's legs.

She sliced madly at the amphistaff as she straightened

again,  engaging  the furious warrior in a  long  series  of

attacks and parries.

And  then Jaina reached out with the force, picked  up

her lightsaber from the ground behind Tsavong Lah, and drove

the violet blade point-first through his throat.

The  warmaster  fell. Jaina didn't spare  him  another

glance,  but  turned to Tesar and Lowbacca. Tesar  was  just

finishing  the patch on the front of Lowie's vac  suit.  She

could  see the suit begin to reinflate, the Wookiee's muzzle

snarling open as he drew in a breath.

Tesar looked up at her. "The suit is patched. But  the

shoulder is not."

"Force-meld," Jaina gasped. "Tell Uncle Luke  we  need

another MD droid. And blood to replace what Lowie's lost."

"That is wise."

Tesar  straightened, then looked down at his feet.  He

tried to move one foot, and the blorash jelly shattered like

fine glass.

Apparently it didn't deal with vacuum well.

"'Now  we  can  move," Jaina said. "Great  timing,  as

usual."

Chapter 27

Five days after the Battle of Ebaq, Luke Skywalker  met

with  Gal Omas. Cal had spent the weeks prior to the  battle

in  isolation on the Super Star Destroyer Guardian, cruising

safely  between the stars. Now Guardian had joined Kre'fey's

fleet at Kashyyyk.

"My  heart was in my mouth," Cal said. "I was  sitting

there  watching the battle and-I wanted to do  something.  I

wanted to give an order!"

"Thank  you for your restraint." Luke smiled.  "That's

been one of our problems-too many voices giving orders."

"Don't I know it." Gal frowned. "Will you sit?"

The  Star Destroyer possessed an admiral's lounge that

seemed  half  the  size of a hoverbail  field,  filled  with

tasteful  furniture and scented by the blossoms  the  ship's

gardener cultivated and set in beautiful vases.

Cal and Luke sat in plush armchairs, and Gal rang for a

steward to bring drinks.

"I've been thinking about the government and how to fix

it,"  Cal said. "The war's sense of urgency has resulted  in

unity right now, but once the Senate decides we're going  to

win,  they're going to want to figure out how to  get  their

hands on the spoils."

Luke nodded. "What's your solution?"

"Persuade   the  worlds  to  elect  more  responsible

Senators?" Cal suggested weakly, and then laughed at his own

absurdity.

"You've got other ideas."

Cal  nodded. "Confine the Senate to its proper sphere,

for one thing. It should legislate and supervise, not try to

run  the administration from day to day. A truly independent

judiciary would curb their more ambitious maneuvers.  A  new

federalism that properly defines the boundaries between  the

Senate and the regimes on the various planets."

"You're talking a new constitution."

Cal  gave  a  tight-lipped  little  smile.  "I'm  even

thinking  of  names.  federal  Galactic  Republic.  Galactic

Federation  of  Free Alliances." He frowned. "Do  you  think

it's possible?"

"I think a Chief of State who's just won a war against

an  implacable enemy might have a lot of currency  with  the

Senate and the people."

Cal's smile faded. "Guess I'd better get busy and  win

it, then."

Which  brought them to the point of the meeting.  Luke

looked at Cal and said, "Win it with Alpha Red?"

Cal's look turned grim. "No," he said. "Not now. It's a

last resort only."

Luke nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Luke was able to assure Jacen that Alpha Red had  been

put on hold as soon as he and his nephew could find time  to

be alone. Jacen had been rescued mere hours after the end of

the  battle, but he had spent the intervening time with  his

parents, and Luke had been too busy to question him.

Now Jacen had returned to his quarters on Ralroost,  a

ship  filled with the sound of clattering pneumatic  cutters

and hissing welders, all busy repairing battle damage. Jacen

seemed  rested and fit-he had put on weight since his escape

from  the  Yuuzhan Vong, and his eyes were  bright  and  his

short beard neatly trimmed.

"But  Alpha Red will still exist," Jacen said. He  had

courteously  given Luke his only chair and sat  cross-legged

on his narrow bunk.

"We  can't  put the knowledge back in its  box,"  Luke

said.

Jacen  shook  his  head, frowned down  at  the  floor.

"Insufficient experience of depravity," he murmured.

"Beg pardon?"

Jacen  glanced  up.  "Something  Vergere  once  said.

Implying that I had much to learn."

"Vergere," Luke said, "thought knowledge was the answer

to everything."

"Was she wrong?"

Luke considered the question. "I value compassion over

knowledge,"  he  said. "But I hope never to have  to  choose

between the two."

"I  chose compassion as well," Jacen said. "Compassion

for  Jaina over the knowledge that my attempt to rescue  her

was almost certainly useless."

Luke listened carefully to Jacen's tone for a hint  of

bitterness. He didn't hear it. Jacen seemed to have accepted

what had happened, accepted it somehow and dealt with it.

He reflected that Jacen was remarkable in his capacity

for acceptance.

"And then Vergere chose compassion as well," Jacen went

on. "Compassion for me. And she gave her life for mine."

"She  thought your life was worth saving," Luke  said.

"And so do I."

Jacen  looked  up sharply. "I hope you won't  have  to

sacrifice yourself for me," he said.

Luke  smiled. "Let's just say that's another choice  I

hope never to have to make."

Jacen looked away. "Vergere said the old must give way

to the new."

"You're the future of the Jedi order," Luke said. "You

and Jaina and Tahiri and the others. In my time, I must make

way for you as well."

Jacen looked thoughtful. "In your time . . ." he said.

He  scratched  his brown beard, then looked in annoyance  at

his  hand and returned it to his lap. He looked at Luke. "Do

you  think  it's possible that the issues of  this  war  are

completely  different  from- from your  war,  from  the  war

against the Empire?"

"How do you mean?"

A repair crew of droids clattered by outside the door,

and  Jacen waited for their sound to fade before continuing.

"Your  war  was about light and dark. You and my mom  versus

Vader and the Emperor. But this war-" He hesitated. "For all

the  evil they do, the enemy aren't dark, exactly-the  enemy

are outside the Force entirely. So to fight them we need  to

...  to  make the Force bigger. Bigger than light and  dark,

bigger than human and Yuuzhan Vong . . ." He shook his head,

then gave a laugh. "I'm talking nonsense, aren't I? Make the

Force bigger. The Force is already all living things."

"Perhaps it's not the Force that needs to be  bigger,"

Luke  said.  "Maybe what needs to be bigger  are  our  ideas

about the Force."

Jacen made as if to laugh again, then stopped. His face

turned  serious. "Bigger ideas about the Force.  How  do  we

manage that?"

Luke  rose from the chair, and on his way out  of  the

cabin  put his hand on Jacen's shoulder. "If anyone  can  do

it, Jacen," he said, "it would be you."

Jaina  left  Ebaq 9 eight days after the  battle.  The

interior  of the moon was still hot, but she was saved  from

the  radiation by being carried by a loadlifter in  a  lead-

lined container box.

She  insisted  on  being the last  one  out.  She  had

reunited  after the battle with the pilots she'd  sent  away

down  the  side passage, and they'd spent the week in  their

oxygen tents.

In  the  tents there had been nothing to do but  talk,

play  sabacc,  and sleep. Occasionally the MD droid  changed

Lowbacca's  bacta patches. Jaina rebelled at  first  against

this  unstructured life-she was used to long days of  drill,

study, and instruction. She wanted to do something.

But no meaningful work was possible, and eventually the

tension began to ebb and she began to relax. She joined  the

other  Jedi in meditation, at first to help Lowie heal,  and

then  because it became her only connection to the  universe

that  lay  beyond the tents. Through the Force and the  Jedi

meld,  she bade farewell to her friends as they left  Ebaq's

system-Kre'fey's fleet had been recalled to the  defense  of

Kashyyyk,  and Bel Iblis returned to Fondor. Soon  the  only

friendly  force  remaining in the system was the  Smugglers'

Alliance  squadron led by her father, the squadron that  had

lost half its ships turning the enemy squadron from her.

From  her.  So  many had died to keep  her  safe.  Her

father's  friends,  Vale and three other Twin  Suns  pilots,

Vergere . . . She didn't know how to think about them now.

And  so she meditated, and slowly relaxed, and  opened

herself  to the universe. To its glories and pleasures,  and

its  griefs  and sorrows as well. Sometimes,  when  she  was

laughing  with  the  others, she felt a  wave  of  heartache

strike her, and she had to turn away, gulping tears.

There were so many to mourn. A whole war's worth.

The  final indignity came when she was carried out  in

the  lead-lined box, like a package to be delivered  to  her

friends.  When  she  emerged,  she  was  in  the  Millennium

Falcon's cargo bay, and the room was filled with applause.

The light dazzled her eyes. She stepped out of the box

and  wrestled  the  vac suit helmet off her  head.  Standing

before her were her parents, Jacen, the eight surviving Twin

Suns  pilots, Kyp Durron, and old friends like Talon Karrde,

Booster Terrik, and Lando Calrissian.

They all seemed inexpressibly dear to her. Jaina  went

along  the room and embraced them one by one. As she touched

Jacen  she  felt  the twin bond roaring  in  her  head,  the

memories  and comradeship and love all singing in her  heart

like a chorus of concern.

Her father, himself blinking back tears, reached into a

pocket  and  held out a pair of gleaming insignia.  "Admiral

Kre'fey's    decided    to   promote    you,"    he    said.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel!"

"Thank  you." She focused on the insignia Han wore  on

his  civilian  vest, and snapped him a salute.  "Thank  you,

General!"

Han  returned the salute with a shamefaced grin.  Then

Jaina turned to her mother, who stood by Han's side with her

arms  open,  and Jaina threw herself at Leia and buried  her

face in her mother's neck.

This  is  going  to be really bad for discipline,  she

thought.

Leia stroked her hair. "Will you take a vacation now?"

she demanded.

Jaina laughed, but the tears burned in her eyes.  "You

know what?" she mumbled. "Being the Sword of the Jedi really

stinks."

His body twitched to remembered pain. Images of needles

and  knifelike claws floated through his mind. He remembered

the  shriek  of  severed nerves, the grind of  bone  against

bone, the way blood oozed slowly from a wound.

He  shivered. Why had this happened? Why? He had never

harmed anyone.

He opened his eyes at a sound, and there before him was

the withered one, a sneer drawn across his crooked slash  of

a mouth.

"Your guests have arrived, Supreme One."

At the words Shimrra felt his power flow into him, his

majesty  and  command and presence. He  sat  on  his  spiked

throne  in  the  Hall  of Confluence  with  its  white  bone

pillars,  and his subjects waited outside the huge  doors-he

could  detect  them  there, feel the subdued  fluttering  of

their busy minds.

Shimrra  looked  at the disfigured being  before  him.

Onimi. "Let the doors open," he said.

The four doors trembled open, and the four castes  and

their  leaders entered and filed in silence to their places.

Onimi sat on the lowest step of Shimrra's dais and adopted a

sullen expression.

Shimrra  could  sense  the  deep  foreboding  in  his

inferiors, the sense that the great defeat at Ebaq had  been

a  disaster  from which the Yuuzhan Vong might not  recover.

Cowards, he thought. These fools must be strengthened.

He rose massively from his throne, stood before them in

the flayed skin of Steng. He sent his presence out among his

listeners and began to work on their emotions, to drive them

into a frenzy.

"The gods test their servants!" he shouted. "They have

permitted enemy treachery' to betray one of our fleets!"

One  of  the  warriors flung himself  to  the  ground.

"Command us, Supreme One!"

"We  must thank the gods for this chance to  test  our

purity and resolve!" Shimrra roared. "Let the sacrifices  be

doubled!  Let heretics be sought and punished!  Let  prayers

rise to the gods from every temple!"

"So  shall it be!" High Priest Jakan was on his  feet,

shaking a fist.

"Let  the warriors redouble their vigilance! Any  step

backward  is  a  betrayal!  Let  the  commanders  plan   new

offensives  and new victories! Let them spill the  blood  of

the infidels!"

The  warriors  bayed  their  approval,  raising  their

amphistaffs.

"The   traitor  Nom  Anor  must  be  found!"  Shimrra

proclaimed. "Let him be slaughtered and his bones ground  to

powder!"

Afterward,  after  his  audience  filed  out,  Shimrra

collapsed  onto his throne. Onimi rose from his  crouch  and

gave a sneering look at the far end of the hall.

"Fools," he said. "But what choice is there but to use

them?"

Shimrra made no reply. His eyes were closed.

Onimi's voice was thoughtful. "We began this war,  and

now  we  must  fight on and hope for the best."  He  gave  a

little  shiver.  "You've betrayed and used the  gods-perhaps

they now betray you in return."

Shimrra said nothing.

"Yet  Nen  Yim may yet fill the eighth cortex,"  Onimi

mused.  "She  needs  time. Perhaps her resources  should  be

increased."

Shimrra remained silent, his torn nostrils flaring with

each  massive  breath. Onimi cocked his  swollen,  misshapen

head.  "Do you not find it amusing, Supreme One?"  he  said.

"We  gambled and lost. And now we must double the stakes and

gamble  again,  with the odds against us even  greater  than

before. Is that not cause for laughter, Lord Shimrra?"

Onimi threw his head back and laughed, a full-throated

shriek of amusement that rang from the room's high ceiling.

Shimrra  drew in air and laughed, a huge deep  booming

that rattled his throne's coral spikes.

Their  laughter  redoubled, treble and  bass,  twining

among  the chitin walls, the bone pillars, the arching roof.

The  room built like the mouth of a great carnivorous beast,

a beast that devours all who enter.