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

     In a last-ditch attempt to save the galaxy,  Luke  Skywalker,  his  wife,
Mara, and Jacen Solo blaze new frontiers in uncharted realms as  the  dazzling
Star Wars space epic Continues...


     There will always be people who are strong for evil.
     The stronger you become, the more you're tempted.
     - Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master



     PROLOGUE

     The man who was no longer a man stood before an alien who was not what it
seemed.
     "Everything is in place," the man said.
     The alien tasted the air as though sniffing for lies. "Are you  certain?"
"Yes, General,"  he  replied  confidently.  Nevertheless,  he  felt  extremely
selfconscious of how he was standing. The aliens he  thought  he  was  dealing
with were particularly good at reading body language; the slightest gesture or
twitch of a facial muscle might be misconstrued as doubt. "The population  has
been lulled into a false sense of security-or if not security, then  certainly
hope that security might one day be  possible.  Barring  the  unforeseen,  all
should proceed according to plan." "I  am  pleased,"  the  alien  said,  claws
clicking on the floor as it paced restlessly before him.
     Inwardly he sighed his relief.  Meeting  his  side  of  the  bargain  was
literally a matter of life and death. "Does that mean-?" "When you return, and
I am completely satisfied that your half of the bargain  has  been  met,"  the
alien said sharply, "then and only  then  will  you  receive  that  which  you
desire." The alien's tail thumped the ground once: End of discussion.
     It couldn't have been clearer if it had used words.
     He shrugged, nodding his acceptance of the alien's terms.  There  was  no
reason to believe that things wouldn't go as expected. He would  get  what  he
wanted. He had taken care of everything, after all.
     "Then I shall leave you, General," he said, "with  your  permission."  It
looked him over briefly as it concurred. "You may depart," it said in a series
of tones too loud for the human ear to endure comfortably, yet possessing such
subtlety that few could comprehend it. No human mouth had ever uttered so much
as a single word in that tongue.
     That he spoke it fluently was simply to be expected. "I  shall  meet  you
back here in a matter of days." "Be assured that I will be waiting," the alien
said, still pacing the floor. "And remember: we have what you want." He bowed,
knowing that he could never forget that. As he left the picket  ship  via  the
narrow umbilical, his body  adapting  to  free-fall  with  built-in  ease,  he
eagerly  anticipated  his  return  to  claim  what  was  rightfully   his--the
triumphant beginning of his new existence. It didn't matter how many lives  it
cost. He would happily stand by a bonfire of bodies if that's what it took for
a chance to warm himself on immortality's fires.
     With a smile, he set a course for destiny.


     PART ONE EXPEDITION

     Luke Skywalker scrambled up the rocky slope, his lungs burning with  each
heavy breath he took. He was relieved to  hear  his  nephew  beside  him  also
panting for breath, because that meant his own  difficulties  with  the  climb
were in no way a reflection of his age or fitness;  it  was  simply  that  the
atmosphere on Munlali Mafir was thin, that was all.
     Behind them came the terrible baymg of the KrizJaws. The sound was  high-
pitched and piercing, even through the rarefied atmosphere, and sent a  shiver
down his spine. With their great rancorlike heads bent  low,  sniffing  for  a
scent, Luke knew that the smooth - and pink-skinned aliens wouldn't be too far
behind, converging from around the ruined palace to join in the hunt  for  the
landing party.
     He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see them snapping at  his
heels already. Thankfully, though, they weren't that close.  But  even  as  he
looked, he saw seven of them emerge from a decorative archway at the  base  of
the nearest wall, tripping over one another and  slipping  on  the  rubble  in
their haste as they headed for the ceremonial mound. Another three jump-rolled
from a window, scurrying out of sight behind a statue.
     Small reddish eyes, two thin arms tipped with three poisoned  claws,  two
powerful legs designed for pouncing, mouths with  jaws  extendable  enough  to
swallow a human head in one gulp...


     The thought was a reminder for Luke that he should keep moving.
     "Only ten of them," Dr. Soron Hegerty said, the surprise evident  beneath
her own panting. She seemed to be finding the pace  more  difficult  than  the
others, barely keeping up even with Jacen's help. "There  have-always  been  -
eleven. I thought that-might have been-significant." A  second  later  another
Krizlaw leapt through the window,  shattering  what  little  remained  of  the
already splintered ornate frame, then dashed for the mound also.
     The xenobiologist shook her head, as if to suggest she was tired of being
right all the time. "Eleven," she confirmed.
     "Come on, Doctor Hegerty," Jacen said. Luke felt his young nephew  subtly
augmenting her stamina with the Force.  "We  have  to  keep  moving!"  "Ritual
hunting party, you think?" Lieutenant Stalgis asked. The  stocky  Imperial  in
light combat armor turned to snap a shot back  at  the  seven  coming  up  the
mound. The blaster bolt took one on the shoulder,  provoking  an  earsplitting
squeal of pain, but didn't slow the creature down.
     "Something-like that," Hegerty gasped.
     Luke and Jacen exchanged worried  looks.  The  xenobiologist  was  tiring
fast, and the top of the mound was still some  distance  away.  The  structure
consisted of soil packed tight around a central  core  of  stone,  creating  a
tall, conical pseudo-pyramid with a truncated, stone  summit  perfect  for  an
impromptu landing field. The shuttle  was  waiting  for  them  there,  engines
warmed up and ready to whisk them off to safety. The only problem was that  at
this rate, with the doctor's endurance flagging, they weren't  going  to  make
it.
     The two Jedi turned simultaneously to see the Kriz-laws making their  way
up the slope in assured and steady bounds, digging in  with  their  claws  and
using their enormous thigh muscles to propel them  forward.  Seeing  Luke  and
Jacen making  a  stand,  the  creatures  hurried  their  ascent,  their  howls
intensifying with each leap. Luke had seen the effects these ululations  could
have on lower life-forms when he'd witnessed the Krizlaws feeding. The intense
vibrations of their howls stunned nerve centers, disoriented senses, and  sent
muscles into spasm. While their prey  was  thus  incapacitated,  the  Krizlaws
would eat them whole. Dr. Hegerty had said  that  the  Krizlaws  believed  the
still-beating heart to be essential for good digestion.
     You won't be digesting this  Jedi,  Luke  swore  determinedly.  Whole  or
otherwise! He sent his senses deep under the surface of the mound.  Packed  it
might be, but the soil wasn't  bound  like  ferrocrete.  There  were  fissures
underneath the surface, numerous pressure points that, with one  solid  nudge,
could be...
     There. Signaling Jacen, he mentally linked up with his nephew  using  the
Force-meld technique perfected in recent months. Together their  minds  pushed
at the pressure point he had found beneath the surface. Dirt erupted from  the
slope below as though a buried machine had suddenly come to life.  The  shower
of dirt hid the shifting forces  beneath  as  disturbed  ground  found  itself
falling, gathered momentum, disturbed more in turn, and  became  an  avalanche
that swept over the Krizlaws, driving them back down to the base of the mound.
     Stalgis cocked an eyebrow. "Impressive," he said  approvingly,  and  with
obvious relief. Slinging his blaster rifle over his shoulder, he  headed  back
up the mound at a more leisurely pace.
     "We're not out of this yet," Jacen said.
     Luke silently agreed. Urging himself forward, he activated  his  comlink.
"We're on our way," he reported. "Any sign of disturbances?" The pilot of  the
Imperial shuttle didn't waste any words. "All clear. We're ready for liftoff."
Above them, he could hear the whine of engines. Relieved that they would  soon
be offplanet, Luke allowed himself a moment to puzzle at what had gone  wrong.
Everything had gone so well at first. Munlali Mafir was a planet that  Hegerty
had listed as one whose indigenous population told of a migratory  world  that
had once appeared in their system,  stayed  briefly,  and  then  vanished.  It
wasn't necessarily Zonama Sekot, but everyone agreed that the lead  was  worth
following up.
     Upon arrival, however, it had been apparent that something  had  changed.
The Jostran natives of Munlali Mafir were,  according  to  Hegerty's  records,
slow-moving centipedes barely larger than a  human  arm.  What  they'd  found,
though, was a colony of Krizlaws-listed as feral  herd  beasts  with  no  more
intelligence than a common nerf-and no sign of the Jostrans at all.  Something
appeared to have elevated the Krizlaws to full intelligence while at the  same
time wiping out the Jostrans. Either that or the Imperial  probe  records  had
simply been wrong. The language used by the Krizlaws was in fact the  same  as
that recorded in Hegerty's  files,  except  that  it  was  attributed  to  the
Jostrans.
     The Krizlaws were not  a  starfaring  species,  so  the  arrival  of  the
Imperial shuttle had prompted an enthusiastic welcome. Luke,  Jacen,  Hegerty,
and a small honor guard of stormtroopers had  been  invited  to  a  ceremonial
banquet at which the visitors had witnessed the grisly eating  habits  of  the
planet's indigenous inhabitants. The local chief, who looked indistinguishable
from the others except for a brightly colored belt wrapped around  his  smooth
midriff, had freely passed on the  legend  about  the  "Star-World"  that  had
appeared in the sky four decades earlier. Lacking telescopes or other  optical
instruments, their observations had been somewhat limited, but it seemed  that
this Star-World had appeared as a blue-green light in  the  skies  of  Munlali
Mafir. It had stayed there for almost three of the  planet's  months,  then-as
mysteriously as it had appeared-it disappeared again.
     For the time that this Star-World held its  place  in  the  sky,  Munlali
Mafir had undergone a period of increased seismic activity. Numerous volcanoes
around the planet erupted, and the lands making up the  three  continents  had
been rent by groundquakes, all of which resulted in the deaths of many of  the
natives.
     Although the locals at the time-whether Jostrans or  Krizlaws,  Luke  had
been unable to determine-had no geologic knowledge to speak of, or indeed  any
understanding of the gravitational effects that astral bodies could have  upon
each other, they had, nonetheless, associated the spate of disasters with  the
arrival of the new planet. To them, the Star-World was a  harbinger  of  death
and upheaval, and Luke made every effort to reassure the chief and his  people
that it was unlikely the Star-World would ever return.
     It was then that the trouble had started.
     A hush had descended on the gathering as Luke  patiently  explained  that
the visitation of the rogue planet had been nothing more than a chance  event,
and it was doubtful that such an occurrence would be repeated. He assumed that
Zonama Sekot was simply looking for somewhere safe to hide, and had  moved  on
once it had become clear  that  Munlali  Mafir  was  inhabited.  It  was  very
possible, he had assured the chief, that the Star-World was in fact by now  on
the other side  of  the  Unknown  Regions.  He  explained  that  the  terrible
consequences of its visit-the ruin of most of the planet's stone  cities,  the
disruption to ocean currents, and the impact  upon  some  vital  environmental
resources such as aquifers-were only temporary.  These  things,  he  promised,
would soon return to normal.
     Instead of being relieved by his reassurances,  though,  the  locals  had
become agitated. The chief had signaled his guards, and the  visitors-esteemed
guests just moments earlier-had suddenly found themselves treated as captives.
Luke had forbidden any form of resistance from his party,  confident  that  he
could talk their way out of a violent confrontation. It was  only  as  he  had
tried to make contact with the chief through the  Force,  however,  that  he'd
realized just how difficult this might prove.
     These beings, it turned out, had two centers of consciousness. Where Luke
might ordinarily have influenced any other creature's thoughts  and  convinced
it simply to let them go, there was no one place to apply pressure within  the
chief of the Krizlaws. One thought center was bright  and  alert,  and  easily
deflected his probe; the other was dull and diffuse, as slippery as a  nooroop
egg. He couldn't influence either as easily as he'd hoped, and the  revelation
threw him for a moment. He had never encountered this situation before.
     During his confusion, one of their stormtrooper escorts had  been  forced
onto the ground. A robed Krizlaw  tipped  the  stormtrooper's  head-back  and,
bizarrely, attempted to force some sort of wriggling grub down his throat. The
man gagged and tried to spit it out, but the tiny creature went down anyway.
     That was enough for Luke. Giving up on direct control, he  had  used  the
Force to thrust the robed Krizlaw away from the fallen stormtrooper. The man's
life-signature was still strong,  despite  his  revulsion  at  the  unexpected
"meal." Pushing his own guards away, he had helped  the  stormtrooper  to  his
feet while Jacen quickly freed himself and the others. Within no time at  all,
they had broken free of the Krizlaws and were running for their lives.
     As they  fled,  Luke  had  heard  the  distinctive  sound  of  the  chief
screeching commands to those gathered around  him.  Soon  a  group  of  eleven
"ritual hunters," as Hegerty thought of them, had formed and given pursuit.
     The chase through the decaying palace had been fast and furious, with two
of the stormtroopers at the rear of the group being snatched up  by  the  jaws
and claws of their pursuers within seconds. The sound of their  cries  as  the
Krizlaws fell upon them was terrible to hear, but their deaths had  given  the
others valuable seconds. When one of the Krizlaws was successful, all  of  the
hunting party came to a halt to devour their prey. This  was  the  first  hint
that Hegerty had received of the  nature  of  the  ritualistic  hunting  group
comprised by the eleven Krizlaws. Maybe now, Luke  hoped,  with  most  of  the
eleven buried beneath the rubble, they would give up the chase.
     It was a nice thought, but Luke still didn't  feel  confident  that  they
were out of trouble just yet. Even now, as they neared their objective at  the
top of the ceremonial mound, he didn't allow himself  to  embrace  the  relief
that he could sense emanating from Stalgis and Hegerty. Self-confidence had  a
way of making one lower one's guard, and that  could  cost  lives.  He  wasn't
about to assume they had escaped until they had escaped.
     Finally, the slope eased and they staggered onto the mound's wide,  stone
summit. The Sentinel-class landing shuttle  rested  on  an  eroded  bas-relief
depicting a mythical battle between two hideous-looking deities. At the top of
the extended landing ramp stood a gray-uniformed Imperial  pilot,  waving  for
them to hurry.
     "Gee, what's the rush?" Stalgis said dryly,  putting  an  arm  under  the
shoulder of the only other surviving stormtrooper-the one who'd been force-fed
the grub.
     "Can't they allow us a few moments to admire the scenery?" "Maybe  that's
why," Jacen said, pointing ahead and to his left.
     Approaching with an ungainly but effective series  of  long-legged  leaps
were the three Krizlaws who had separated from the rest of the  hunting  party
at the base of the mound. It was clear they were going to  reach  the  shuttle
first-which probably explained their triumphant howls and ululations.
     Luke gathered the Force about himself and Jacen. By using it to  increase
their speed, the two of them could head off the  three  Krizlaws,  giving  the
others opportunity to get to the  shuttle.  Three  of  these  creatures  would
certainly be no match for the lightsabers of two trained Jedi.
     Barely had he taken a step when matching howls sounded from  off  to  the
right. A quick glance told him that eight more of the Krizlaws had found them.
     "Eleven again," Hegerty said breathlessly. There was a hint of defeat  in
her tone.
     "They can't be the ones we buried,"  Jacen  said.  "It's  not  possible!"
"They aren't," Luke  said.  "They  have  different  markings.  These  must  be
replacements." "How did they know?" Stalgis asked.
     The question became moot as the eleven howling aliens  converged  on  the
escapees. Two Krizlaws separated from the rest and  headed  for  the  shuttle,
giving the Imperial waiting at the top of the  ramp  good  reason  to  hastily
retreat inside. Seconds later, laser cannons  issued  from  their  retractable
housing and began taking potshots. The Krizlaws were too fast, however,  their
long leaps taking the gunner by surprise.
     Luke stopped running. There was no point wasting energy on a mad dash  if
there was no chance of making it. Sending for the  shuttle  speeder  bike  was
also pointless, since that could save only two of them at  the  very  most.  A
familiar meditation damped down feelings of frustration and anger; this was no
time to give in to darker emotions, he told himself. There had to  be  another
way to save the landing party from the approaching aliens.
     Stalgis assumed a sharpshooter's pose and snapped off a dozen  rounds  in
quick succession. One of the Krizlaws stumbled and fell, missing  one  of  its
arms and geysering purplish blood. Luke watched  in  horror  as  the  creature
staggered back to its feet and continued on, limping. Stalgis's  jaw  clenched
as if biting down on frustration, but he kept on firing.
     Luke and Jacen placed themselves at two points of a  defensive  triangle,
with Stalgis and the other stormtrooper at the other corner and the  exhausted
Hegerty in the middle. The xenobiologist was only slightly  older  than  Luke,
but she had no battle skills. The type of expedition she  was  used  to,  Luke
imagined, would have had little cause for running like this.
     Krizlaws spread out in a circle around  them.  Luke  used  the  Force  to
discourage those who came closest, but knew it  was  only  a  matter  of  time
before he and the others were rushed. There was no  way  they  could  possibly
repel all nine at once.
     As he steeled himself in  preparation  for  the  inevitable  attack,  and
possibly a fight to the death, his thoughts went out to his son  safe  in  the
heart of the Galactic Alliance, and he sent a wordless message of  apology  to
Mara, waiting in orbit in Jade Shadow.
     The Millennium Falcon's exit from hyperspace was anything  but  graceful.
Leia gripped the arms of her  copilot's  chair,  glad  that  Han  had  finally
installed one that accommodated her slight build.
     Behind her, she could hear C-3PO rattling.
     "Oh my," the golden droid exclaimed, shifting unsteadily on his  feet  to
try to keep his balance. "I hope we  haven't  hit  anything!"  Han  flicked  a
couple of switches; then, when that obviously failed, he leaned  back  in  his
seat and kicked the base of the console. A few seconds later, their trajectory
flattened out.
     "Sorry about that, folks," he said  to  no  one  in  particular.  "Normal
services have been resumed." Leia rolled her eyes and glanced back at  Tahiri.
The young Jedi sat stoically in her seat, her stare fixed at a  point  outside
the cockpit canopy.  Throughout  the  journey,  she  had  remained  quiet  and
unresponsive to any attempts at  conversation,  her  thoughts  focused  firmly
inward. Leia hadn't pressed her; she  sensed  that  some  complicated  healing
process was taking place in the girl, and she was reluctant to disturb it.
     Nevertheless, there were times when she felt that a more direct  approach
might be appropriate-especially those times when  Tahiri's  brooding  silences
went on for hours at a stretch, never seeming to  end.  Tahiri's  blackout  on
Galantos had been a startling setback, occurring  at  a  time  when  Leia  had
believed that Tahiri could be on the mend. Still, there could be  no  faulting
her reactions when she'd woken up; without her well-honed Jedi instincts, they
might not have-reached orbit when they did-or, indeed, made contact  with  the
mysterious Ryn who had helped them escape.
     Leia inwardly sighed.  Whatever  was  going  on  inside  Tahiri,  it  was
frustratingly inconsistent.
     The subspace receiver bleeped. Leia glanced at the scopes and opened  the
line. Captain Mayn's voice issued from the comm  speakers.  "Falcon,  I  await
your instructions." "Glad you could join us, Selonia," she said. "Have a  nice
trip?" "As pleasant a stroll as  one  can  expect  through  hyperspace."  Leia
smiled at the captain's remark as she surveyed the planet before them.
     Bakura was a beautiful blue-green world known for  its  agricultural  and
repulsorlift exports. Its two moons had been heavily mined for materials  used
in the manufacture of the second Death Star. It was also right on the edge  of
the galaxy, diametrically opposite the  corridor  of  worlds  that  had  first
fallen victim to the Yuuzhan  Vong  invasion.  "From  Bonadan  to  Bakura  via
Bothawui" was an old saying that suggested it  was  easier  to  get  from  the
Corporate Sector to Bakura via a wide detour to Bothan space than it was to go
straight through the  Core,  with  its  dense  overlap  of  mass  shadows  and
treacherous hyperspace lanes.
     It  also  connected  three  high-tech  but   otherwise   very   different
industrialized worlds. Where Bonadan was a desertified wasteland,  Bakura  was
still verdant and pastoral, on the other end of the spectrum of  environmental
degradation. Belkadan, the first world attacked by the Yuuzhan Vong and one of
Bonadan's relative neighbors, was in a spectrum  of  its  own,  its  biosphere
modified to suit the aliens' introduced biological factories. Leia  hoped  she
never saw the day when such degradation stretched from one side of the  galaxy
to the other, linking all the worlds she knew in a terrible web  of  pain  and
sacrifice. If the day ever arrived when Shimrra ruled over  Bakura,  then  she
would know that the end had truly come.
     For now, though, it still looked peaceful enough...
     Numerous satellites orbited the planet, and she imagined that it wouldn't
be long before someone detected and hailed the Falcon and Pride of Selonia.
     Assuming that normal procedures were still being  followed,  all  entries
into the system were closely monitored; the Bakuran government was  constantly
alert for another Ssi-ruuvi invasion.  After  the  first  attempt  twenty-five
standard years before, four destroyers  and  cruisers-Intruder,  Watch-keeper,
Sentinel, and Defender-had been  specifically  constructed  and  installed  to
guard the system.
     Two of them-Watchkeeper and the task  force  flagship  Intruder-had  been
destroyed when co-opted into service to the j  New  Republic  at  Selonia  and
Centerpoint. That left only j Defender and Sentinel to hold the fort.
     "Bring back any memories, Leia?" Han asked with a  crooked  grin  as  his
hand reached out to squeeze hers briefly. She returned his  smile  but  didn't
respond directly. They had visited Bakura very early  in  their  relationship;
under other circumstances, she might have let herself | enjoy the reminder  of
those headier days.
     "Stand ready, Selonia,"  she  told  Mayn.  "See  if  you  can  raise  the
planetary network. Don't identify us; use Selonia's registration codes."  Mayn
responded in the affirmative, and Leia switched to  another  frequency.  "Twin
Sun One, maintain formation unless ordered otherwise."  "Understood."  Jaina's
voice came briskly from the cockpit of her X-wing. The remaining  fighters  of
Twin Suns surrounded the two command  vessels  in  a  flattened  dodecahedron,
missing one point.
     "Do you sense anything, Jaina?" Leia asked her daughter.
     "Nothing out of the ordinary." "What about you, Tahiri?" "Huh?" The young
Jedi snapped out of some deep thought. "I'm sorry, what?" "I asked if you were
picking up anything unusual through the Force," Leia said.
     "Oh, no-nothing yet, anyway." Tahiri closed her eyes as she sent her mind
reaching out through space, seeking any echoes of the  people  on  and  around
Bakura. "Tahiri is looking now," Leia told  Jaina.  There  was  a  slight  but
meaningful pause from Jaina's j end.  Leia  had  noticed  a  definite  reserve
growing between Jaina and Tahiri, but she'd had no opportunity to  discuss  it
with her yet. The present arrangement-with Jaina on |  duty  more  often  than
not, and rarely aboard the Falcon-meant that there was simply no  time  to  be
alone together. If something had happened to get in the way of the  friendship
between the two young women, Leia had no idea what it was.
     "Okay," Jaina finally said. "We'll keep our sensors peeled." Han  brought
the Millennium falcon around along a broad arc designed to end  quite  clearly
in orbital insertion. Leia wanted no ambiguity that they were  on  a  peaceful
mission, despite their military escort.  After  the  Ryn's  vague  hints,  she
wasn't taking any chances.
     She opened a line to Selonia again: "Any word yet,  Captain?"  "Nothing,"
Mayn replied. "We're picking up some light chatter, but not much  else.  There
are a large number of vessels in parking orbit or in station docks.
     Most of them just look like freighters." "No launches?"  "None  deleted."
Leia considered this for a moment. "Keep hailing them," she said shortly.
     "They must be ignoring us or simply not noticing  us.  Either  way,  they
won't be able to keep it up much longer. Let's just stick to  our  course  and
see what happens. And be ready for anything."  "Understood."  Leia  turned  to
Han. He sat in silence beside her, his brow pinched with worry.
     "You okay?" He looked at her and cocked one eyebrow. "Do I really need to
say it?" he asked.
     She shook her head and sighed. He didn't need to tell her that he  had  a
bad feeling about this; she could feel something was wrong, too.  But  without
evidence she had no reason to act any way other than normal.
     Finally the subspace channel crackled and a response came  in.  "Selonia,
this is General  Panib  of  the  Bakuran  Defense  Fleet.  Please  state  your
intentions." Leia remembered a Captain Grell Panib from an  earlier  visit  to
Bakura; she imagined it was probably the same person.  A  short,  stiff-backed
redhead, he'd had all the social graces of a hungry Wookiee.
     Mayn ignored the request. "We're allies, Captain, looking for  a  docking
vector-" "I'm sorry, Selonia, but we're going to need more  detail  before  we
can give you one." "Of all the..." Han muttered.
     "It's a perfectly reasonable request," the general  went  on,  his  voice
taut with a tension Leia couldn't  immediately  fathom.  "There  has  been  no
notification of you coming-" "General Panib, this is Leia  Organa  Solo,"  she
interrupted before Han could explode. "We  have  come  to  your  planet  on  a
diplomatic mission. We would have notified you in advance  but  communications
have been unreliable around here of late." There was some hesitation from  the
general. "I appreciate what you are saying. There have  indeed  been  problems
with the communications networks. Nevertheless, I must  insist  that  you  now
state your intentions for coming here." "Hey, how about you drop the attitude,
" Han responded hotly. "We're the guys who saved your skins from the  Ssi-ruuk
a while back, remember?" "I remember; I recognized that beat-up old  freighter
the moment I saw her." Leia hid a worried smile as  she  watched  her  husband
bite down on an indignant retort.
     "But things aren't so simple anymore," Panib went on, "We have  something
of a situation here at the moment." "What kind of situation?" Leia asked.
     "You're not welcome here!" A  new  voice  crackled  over  the  restricted
comlink frequency. "Go steal someone else's ships!"

     "What? " Han exclaimed. It was clear this time that he didn't  intend  to
hold back. His face reddened as he leaned forward to speak into the comm unit.
     "Listen, you-" "Wait, Han," Leia cut him off. He looked at  her  with  an
incensed frown, but did as she asked. "General Panib, is this person  speaking
with your authority?" "Certainly not!"  the  general  responded,  spluttering.
"And whoever it is shall be court-martialed as soon  as-"  "You  can't  court-
martial everyone, General," the intruder mocked. He had distorted his voice to
mask his identity. "You can't silence the truth indefinitely!"  "When  I  find
out who is responsible for this," the general blustered, "I swear that I shall
have you-" "The truth?" Leia broke in. "And just what is the truth?" "There is
nothing to discuss here!" The general's voice was rising as he lost control of
the situation. "We don't need you middling in our affairs!" "We aren't here to
meddle," Leia defended quickly. "Although I will admit that we  are  concerned
about your affairs. I believe you're in great danger, General.
     People masquerading as allies may have  recently  contacted  you.  I  can
assure you that they are not what they seem." "Whereas you  are,  I  suppose."
This came from the person who had broken  into  the  conversation,  his  voice
dripping with derision. "At least they don't pay lip service to the idea of an
alliance while eroding our defenses and  leaving  us  open  to  attack!"  Leia
bridled at this. "We  have  never  abandoned  our  allies!"  "Like  you  never
abandoned Dantooine and Ithor?" the stranger shot back. "Or Duro or Tynna or-"
Cold fury welled up in her. "Every planet lost cuts us deeply! Every life lost
cuts us deeper!" "I must  apologize,  Princess,"  Panib  said  anxiously.  The
general's tone had changed dramatically from a few  minutes  earlier,  and  he
sounded genuinely apologetic. "We are doing our best to find the source of the
transmission." "I'm sorry, too, Princess," came the  distorted  voice  of  the
intruder. " But I'm afraid that the time has come to find ourselves  some  new
allies." "Uh-oh," Han said from Leia's side, his eyes scanning the display  in
front of him.
     "What is it? "she asked.
     "Sentinel's launching bays  just  opened,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head
ominously.
     He pointed at the screen. Issuing from the launching bays of the  cruiser
Sentinel was a swarm of Ssi-ruuvi battle droids, coming directly for them.
     "Whatever it was we came to stop, I think we might be too  late."  "Uncle
Luke! Look!" Jacen guided his uncle into the double mind of one of the  nearby
Krizlaws. He had used the Force to cloud the brighter, more intense mind,  but
still the creature kept on coming. Somehow, the more doltish mind  was  enough
to coordinate the body while the higher mind was elsewhere.
     "And exactly how is this supposed to help us, Jacen?" Luke asked.
     "Look closer," Jacen pressed. "We're not dealing  with  single  creatures
here; they're symbionts!" "Two creatures combined?" Luke  said  dubiously.  "I
don't see how that-"But then, suddenly, he did see. The higher, brighter  mind
of the creature belonged to the rider and was the directing  intelligence;  it
gave the orders that the body then carried out, no  matter  how  wounded.  The
lower mind belonged to the body, which could keep going even with  the  higher
mind  disabled.  Jacen's  theory  certainly  fit  the  evidence-and   he   was
intuitively better at understanding animals than Luke was.
     But if he was right, then the lower mind should be more  easily  startled
by pain. And if that was the case, why hadn't  the  one  in  which  Jacen  had
disabled the higher mind simply run away from Stalgis's blasterfire?
     He soon found out.  The  riding  intelligences  were  ferocious  killers:
crudely intelligent but not open to reason. Trained to hunt,  not  to  discuss
differences, the pack would keep coming as long as some of the riders remained
to keep the lower minds in check.
     Following Jacen's lead, Luke sent his mind into another of  the  Krizlaws
and clouded its controlling intelligence.  It,  too,  continued  to  obey  its
higher mind's final instructions, snapping hungrily at the four  people  along
with the rest of the pack. Luke and his nephew continued around the circle  of
beasts, one by one confusing their higher minds. It was only  after  they  had
disabled the sixth creature that there was a noticeable  change  in  behavior.
The pack became less orderly, less focused, while  their  baying  became  more
unsettled and aggressive. Luke  could  feel  a  note  of  alarm  entering  the
remaining higher minds as the thoughts of those around them descended back  to
their natural, animalistic states.
     As fascinating as it might  have  been  to  observe,  though,  it  wasn't
helping the landing party. Two of the enraged creatures rushed the  group  and
were repelled by  the  combined  blasterfire  from  Stalgis  and  the  injured
stormtrooper. One of the Krizlaws collapsed with a yelp and a whimper at their
feet; the other, having taken a  blaster  bolt  to  the  throat,  leapt  away,
spitting blood. Barely a second had passed when another attacked from the  far
side. Luke took this one out himself, stepping forward a  single  pace  as  he
brought his lightsaber up in a glowing arc, stabbing at the beast's soft  pink
underside. It fell to the ground, but he hadn't  killed  it-the  jaws  of  the
alien continued to snap at Hegerty's feet as it scrambled relentlessly  toward
her. Stalgis brought the nozzle of his  rifle  around  and  placed  a  precise
blaster shot into the side of the Krizlaw's head to finish it off.
     Two more attacked them, uncoordinated and clumsy, and Luke felt his world
contract into a furious concentration of teeth  and  glowing  red  eyes,  with
bright flashes of energy-blade and bolt-adding a surreal counterpoint  to  the
proceedings.
     Another Krizlaw lunged, extendable mouth open to engulf him. He swung his
lightsaber again, this time with more force-using the thought of Mara and  Ben
to strengthen his resolve to stay alive. The blade cut through the  creature's
forelimbs, but it wasn't enough to halt  its  movement  through  the  air.  It
connected solidly with Luke's chest, knocking him to  the  ground.  Its  huge,
slavering jaws were suddenly centimeters from his face. Before  he'd  had  the
chance to bring his lightsaber up to defend himself, five blasts sounded  from
nearby, each one striking the alien's head. Mucus and  blood  splashed  Luke's
face, and the Krizlaw fell heavily to one side. He would have liked  to  offer
his thanks to the stormtrooper who'd fired the shot, but he had already turned
his attention to the other creatures attacking them. There wasn't time  to  be
grateful.
     Luke climbed to his feet, bringing his lightsaber to bear in anticipation
of the next onslaught. But there  was  none.  All  of  the  Krizlaws  suddenly
recoiled, each emitting a sound that was so high-pitched it hurt his ears.  He
remained in a defensive stance, dumbstruck, his blade still held in  front  of
him waiting for the attack that refused to happen.
     Around him, the air was thick  with  confused,  animal  thoughts  as  the
Krizlaws wheeled and fled, scrambling and leaping in an uncontrolled,  chaotic
mass for the lip of the plateau.
     Mystified, Luke turned to check the others. Stalgis  had  a  cut  to  his
forehead; the stormtrooper was bleeding steadily from a bite to his  shoulder.
Hegerty was unharmed. Jacen favored his  right  leg  as  he  snapped  off  his
lightsaber and turned to face them, a look of satisfaction on his face.
     "Your doing, I presume?" Luke asked.
     "I managed to  get  a  handle  on  the  lower  minds,"  Jacen  explained.
"Finally.
     Once we'd knocked out enough of the riders, they were  unable  to  assert
themselves..The pack was frightened of us and took the  first  opportunity  to
get away." "Is the pack a group-mind, do you think?"  Hegerty  asked,  clearly
intrigued by the idea.
     "Yes. With a fixed number of components forming a stable  configuration,"
Jacen added.
     "Of course!" Hegerty said.  "There  were  always  eleven  of  them!  They
probably evolved that way, and the creatures controlling them now simply  took
advantage of the configuration." "And that's how they knew when some of  their
number had been killed," Jacen said. "Whenever a vacancy was  created  in  the
group, there was always  another  Krizlaw  to  fill  it,  with  the  new  ones
automatically knowing as much as the others  in  the  meld."  Luke  nodded  in
agreement. It made sense. Now was not the time to be  discussing  it,  though.
"We should get to the shuttle while we still can," he said.  "I'd  rather  not
hang around and wait for the chief to put  together  another  group-this  time
with controlling intelligences intact." They did as he suggested, with Hegerty
taking the lead. Stalgis assisted his injured comrade, while  Jacen  and  Luke
brought up the rear.
     "Good work," he told his nephew as they walked. "And timely, too. I don't
know how much  longer  we  could  have  held  them  off."  Jacen  nodded,  his
expression one of simultaneous relief and pride. "I had  to  do  something.  I
couldn't let us be taken down by a pack of animals." "Never underestimate  the
power of the animal," Luke said soberly. "Sheer numbers can overwhelm the best
of tactics. Along with not having any fear of death, it's  possibly  the  most
powerful weapon an enemy can have." They reached  the  landing  ramp  with  no
further incident, although the baying of Krizlaws was  a  constant  and  eerie
reminder of why they should get off this planet  and  never  look  back.  Luke
helped the injured storm-trooper into the shuttle and onto one of the  craft's
small cots. Stalgis followed close behind, grabbing a medpac on the way.
     "He's going to have to be examined thoroughly," Hegerty said, speaking to
the others in a hushed tone so that  the  stormtrooper  wouldn't  hear.  "That
force-feeding he received could be dangerous."  "He  seems  okay  now,"  Jacen
said. "Apart from the  shoulder  wound."  "I  think  Doctor  Hegerty  is  more
concerned about internal injuries," Luke said, glancing over to where  Stalgis
was administering treatment to the injured trooper. Now  that  the  fight  was
over, he certainly looked paler and weaker than he had outside.
     Hegerty nodded. "We'll need to warn  Widowmaker  that  he  might  require
immediate surgery-as well as decontamination." " But why?" Jacen asked.
     "You said the Krizlaws are symbionts," she explained. "But symbionts with
what, exactly?" "Some other species, I guess," he said.
     The doctor nodded again. "Remember the missing Jostrans?" Jacen  blanched
as Hegerty's point hit home. "You don't really think-?" She  shrugged.  "Maybe
they're not missing after all." "We'll let  Tekli  know,"  Luke  said  with  a
sinking feeling  in  his  stomach  that  was  nothing  compared  to  what  the
stormtrooper would feel if he learned of their, suspicions. He  filed  through
the cabin while the others took seats preparatory  for  launch,  his  thoughts
turning over the whole Krizlaw/Jostran affair.
     It all seemed to make sense now, as things often did in  retrospect.  The
passage of Zonama Sekot through the system must have  destabilized  the  local
environment enough to encourage a warlike clan or subspecies  of  Jostrans  to
take over the Krizlaws, giving them a competitive edge. Zonama Sekot had  been
responsible for helping that particular clan, but it had been at the  cost  of
the previous Jostran civilization.
     The pilot lifted off just  as  Luke  reached  the  cockpit.  He  strapped
himself in, watching the ground  scanner  as  he  did  so.  Another  group  of
Krizlaw/Jostrans was converging on the shuttle, and he  silently  gave  thanks
that they were no longer out there fighting. It would only have been a  matter
of time before they would have fallen to the creatures.
     Luke was grateful that the shuttle offered no parting shots as it swept a
comfortable distance over the heads of the eleven snapping aliens. Once upon a
time the gunners aboard this craft might have strafed them as  they  launched,
but Luke had repeatedly emphasized that their mission was a peaceful  one  and
that there would be no unnecessary loss of life-human or otherwise. Thus  far,
the Imperials had accepted his terms happily enough,  with  Captain  Yage  and
Lieutenant Stalgis backing him up. Many of the  crew,  Stalgis  included,  had
friends or family who were still alive because of the actions of the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances around Orinda. Nevertheless, there was a definite
undercurrent of resentment. To some, he would never be anything more than  the
Rebel boy who  was  responsible  for  the  death  of  Emperor  Palpatine.  But
regardless of their feelings toward him, he would never let  their  disrespect
undermine his confidence or authority.
     He turned away from the thoughts, settling back  into  his  seat  as  the
shuttle sped skyward, leaving Munlali Mafir behind him. He was relieved to  be
going home - or to the closest thing to home they had, anyway.
     "Haiijade Shadow," he instructed the sensor officer.
     To Luke's surprise, Danni Quee took the call.  "I  gather  you  had  some
trouble with the locals," the young scientist said.
     "An argument over dinner, that's all. Is Mara there?" "She's tied  up  at
the moment, but she says not to worry. Can I pass on a message?"  "No,  that's
okay. But tell Tekli to take a shuttle over to Widowmaker. We have  a  patient
for her." "Who's injured?" she asked quickly.  Luke  could  tell  without  her
having to say anything that she was worried it might be Jacen.
     "A stormtrooper," he explained briefly.  "It's  not  so  much  that  he's
injured." He fought for the right word.  "He's  just...  infected,  I  guess."
"I'll warn Tekli to be ready. Did  you  learn  anything  useful  about  Zonama
Sekot?" "It's been here, as we thought-but not for many years."  "Another  hit
and run?" "I'm afraid so. If we only knew what it was looking  for,  it  would
certainly improve our chances of finding  it."  "It's  a  big  galaxy,"  Danni
agreed.
     "Excuse me, sir," the pilot  interrupted.  "You've  got  a  communication
coming in." "Sorry, Danni. Got to go." Luke thanked  the  sensor  officer  and
moved forward to where the holodisplay rested between the two  forward  seats.
In the display, he saw the solid figure of Arien Yage, captain of the Imperial
frigate Widowmaker, Jade Shadow's official escort through the Unknown Regions.
Her  hair  was  tied  back  in  its  usual  severe  bun  and  her   expression
businesslike.
     "We have visitors," she said, wasting no time on  pleasantries.  "Fifteen
minutes ago, a Chiss corvette and two full squadrons of clawcraft entered  the
system. They are on a high-powered approach vector, clearly intending to  lock
on to our orbit." "Communications?" "None as yet, although we hailed  them  as
soon as they appeared on the scopes. I've put the  squadron  on  full  alert."
"How long until they come within range?" "Approximately thirty minutes." "I'll
make sure we're back by then," Luke said. "Keep an eye on them,  Captain,  and
keep me informed." Yage's image nodded and fizzed out, then Luke sank  wearily
back into his seat. Two Chiss squadrons were more than a  match  for  a  dozen
Imperial TIE fighters, but Jade Shadow with Mara at the controls was worth  an
entire squadron on its own. If it came  to  a  fight,  they  would  be  evenly
matched. He just hoped it didn't come to that. The last time he and  Mara  had
entered Chiss space, in  Thrawn's  day,  their  dealings  had  been  conducted
amicably, if cautiously. Fatigue washed through him, and he tapped  the  Force
to sweep it away. He was tired of fighting, yes, but he wasn't about  to  give
up. Besides, there was nothing yet to suggest that the Chiss were looking  for
a fight. For all he knew, this might  be  the  way  they  normally  approached
unidentified vessels found wandering in the Unknown Regions.  The  Chiss  were
efficient and pragmatic, to the point of appearing cold  to  those  unfamiliar
with their ways. Until Luke was certain  of  their  intentions,  he  could  do
little more than wait.
     He moved back into the passenger cabin to  check  on  the  injured  storm
trooper. The man was unconscious. The upper  half  of  his  uniform  had  been
removed to enable Stalgis to get at the wound on his shoulder, and there was a
sheen  to  his  skin  from  perspiration.  Stalgis  was   leaning   over   the
stormtrooper,  holding  a  stim-shot,a  look  of  concern  on  his  face.   He
straightened when he saw Luke.
     "He's going down fast," Stalgis said. "I don't have the  facilities  here
to check for new poisons, so we're going to need to get  him  to  Widowmaker's
medical bay fast." Luke motioned Jacen to come forward. "See if you  can  hold
his vital signs stable. We're moving as quickly as we can, but it might not be
enough." His nephew bent down next to the stricken trooper and placed  a  hand
on his forehead. Luke felt waves of healing energy pour  off  his  nephew  and
into the stormtrooper. He placed one hand on  Jacen's  shoulder  to  lend  him
strength.
     "Looks like  we  might  have  attracted  attention  to  ourselves,"  Luke
whispered to him?
     "What sort of attention?" Jacen returned equally as softly.
     "Chiss." The trooper's condition worsened steadily as the shuttle  roared
up toward the orbit occupied by the mission's two central vessels. Luke  could
feel the man's immune system failing as the invader spread  its  chemical  and
genetic tentacles through his body, beating it into submission.  Jacen  didn't
suggest using the Force to kill it, and Luke knew he wouldn't until the choice
between it and the trooper became absolutely clear.
     Hegerty  watched  with  an  expression  of  concern  mixed  with  intense
curiosity. Luke doubted whether the woman could ever  not  look  worried;  the
lines in her face were permanently etched that way. For the sake  of  Stalgis,
and in case their fear turned out to be unfounded, Luke refrained from  asking
the doctor if she'd ever seen anything like this before. They'd find out  soon
enough-or so he hoped, anyway.The sensor officer stuck his  head  out  of  the
cockpit. "Another communication, sir." Luke returned to the  cockpit,  leaving
Stalgis and Jacen to care for the stormtrooper. Yage's hologram was back.
     "We've had a reply," she said.  "Commander  Irolia  of  the  Expansionary
Defense Fleet wants to speak to the person in charge. I told her you  were  on
your way back from the surface, but she  said  she  wanted  to  speak  to  you
immediately." "I guess you'd better put me through, then," he said.
     The  copilot  made  way  for  him  without  having  to  be  asked.   Luke
straightened his robes as he took the empty seat.
     Yage's face dissolved from the holofield in a flicker of static;  it  was
replaced a few seconds later with the image of  the  upper  body  of  a  blue-
skinned woman dressed in a burgundy-and-black uniform. Her eyes were the  deep
red of her species, and her expression held nothing but blunt authority. Chiss
matured quickly, but still Luke was startled by the fact that  she  looked  no
older than his niece, Jaina.
     "You are Master Skywalker?" Her voice had all the warmth of a  droid.Luke
nodded curtly and said: "I am leader of a peaceful mission from  the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances. We are in the middle of an emergency. I lost two
of my crew in a ground fight with the natives of the planet below, and a third
is seriously injured. If we don't get back to orbit in time, he'll  die.  Your
arrival into this system has put my squadron on  full  alert,  and  means  our
docking procedures will be that  much  more  complicated.  If  I  should  lose
another because of your interference, I will be  extremely-"  "Please  do  not
threaten us, Skywalker," the Chiss woman responded calmly, staring  unblinking
from the flickering holofield. "Our intention is not to  impede  your  docking
procedures, or any other of your procedures. I require only that you meet with
me in person at the earliest possible convenience." "Of  course,"  Luke  said.
"We'll arrange it as soon as I return to the Widowmaker."  "When  or  how  you
arrange it is irrelevant. Know, however, that I will not remain in this system
for long. Comply with my request, or face the consequences." The image  winked
out.
     "Well, you heard the commander," Luke said to the pilot, who had  watched
the show with interest. "I guess we'd better  get  moving..."  "All  X-wings,"
came Jaina's voice over the subspace combat channel, "lock S-foils  in  attack
position. Claw-craft: arm and target approaching vessels. Battle plan A-seven.
" "Copy that," Jag returned on behalf of Twin Suns' Chiss pilots.
     Leia watched as the formation of fighters  split  into  three  groups-two
pairs and a triplet, Galactic Alliance and  Chiss  fighters  flying  alongside
each other with perfect precision. The calm command in  her  daughter's  voice
made her proud; no matter how surprised by the sudden attack Jaina  must  have
been, she didn't let it show. Neither was there any suggestion of concern  for
the fact that her squadron hadn't had any experience in  combat  against  Ssi-
ruuk fighters. Any sign of composure that General Panib had displayed  earlier
now evaporated totally in the face of this abrupt turnabout of events.
     "Please,  wait,"  he  urged  frantically.  "There's   been   a   terrible
misunderstanding!" "You bet there has," Han said. "One we intend to  clear  up
for you very shortly. Those ships belong to the enemy, and  we'll  knock  them
out of your skies if  they  come  anywhere  near  us.  You  got  that?"  "More
launches," Leia said, registering fighters coming from Defender. "A-wings  and
B-wings, this time; not Ssi-ruuk." Han glanced at the  scanner  board.  "Those
had better be coming to help us, Panib." "Falcon, I beseech you not  to  order
your ships to open fire!" All semblance of calm had left the general's  voice;
only panic remained. "All these ships comprise a peaceful envoy to ensure your
safe passage to orbit." "All of them?" Han snorted. "Yeah, right.  If  entech-
ing humans and using them to fly those fighters heading  our  way  constitutes
peaceful behavior, then I don't think we're speaking the same language.  Those
fighters have precisely thirty seconds to turn around before we start  opening
fire." "Han, look at this," Leia said, studying the  display  before  her.  It
showed one of the Ssi-ruuvi vessels up close. The image was  fuzzy  but  clear
enough to make out some details. "Do those engine housings  look  familiar  to
you?" Han frowned at the image. "What about them?" "They  look  an  awful  lot
like ion jets to me." "So?" "Since when did the Ssi-ruuk start using  standard
engines on their fighters?" "What are you saying, Leia?"  "That  there's  more
here than meets the eye," she said. "You'll note also that  our  transmissions
are not being jammed." Han's frown deepened as his instincts  conflicted  with
what Leia was suggesting. "It has to be a trick," he said, shaking  his  head.
"They want us to drop our guard." Leia wasn't convinced. " It doesn't add  up,
Han. If they really wanted to do that, then why not just let us land first and
then attack us?" She could almost see the  thoughts  behind  his  eyes  racing
through his mind. What if Panib was telling the  truth?  A  mistake  could  be
extremely costly. Then there was the matter of the mysterious intruder on  the
secure comm channels. He had been  silent  since  the  Ssi-ruuvi  vessels  had
launched. If their intentions had been to stir things up between Panib and the
visitors, in order to  ensure  the  worst  possible  reception  of  the  alien
fighters, then they had certainly succeeded.
     "The pilots of those ships aren't human," Tahiri said, breaking into  the
discussion softly. Leia turned to face the young Jedi; the  girl's  eyes  were
still closed, as though  meditating.  "They're  definitely  alien.  And-"  She
hesitated for a second, then her eyes flickered open.  "Everyone's  heard  the
stories about the Ssi-ruuk and how awful en-techment is. It's supposed  to  be
agony, right?" Leia nodded, still remembering the look on Luke's face when  he
had been rescued from the mighty Ssi-ruuvi vessel  in  which  he'd  been  held
captive, years ago. Exposure to the perverted entechment  technology,  and  to
the life energy forcibly removed from  those  taken  captive  in  battle  with
Bakura, had touched him profoundly.
     "Well, these minds aren't suffering," Tahiri said. "They're clean." "What
are they, then?" Han asked.
     "I don't know," Tahiri said. "I've never touched minds like these before.
"When Leia stretched out her senses,  she,  too,  could  detect  no  trace  of
anything malevolent in the approaching fighters.
     "I don't care if their minds are as serene  as  Alder-aanian  snow,"  Han
growled.
     "They're still attacking us!" "Are they?" Leia asked. It was all too easy
to assume. "We don't want to  start  a  war  by  accident-not  if  there's  an
alternative." "And what if you're wrong, Leia? I don't want  them  to  end  up
using Jaina as target practice out there." "Nor do I, Han."  She  touched  his
hand in reassurance,  then  spoke  on  the  secure  subspace  comlink  to  the
squadron: "Twin  Suns,  fall  back  to  flank  Selonia  and  Falcon.  You  are
instructed not to fire unless we are  fired  upon.  Understood?"  "Understood,
Falcon." Apart from the slight hesitation in  Jaina's  voice,  the  order  was
accepted and acted upon immediately. In the face of  the  rapidly  approaching
swarm of Ssi-ruuvi fighters, the combined Chiss and Galactic Alliance squadron
peeled away and swooped back to cover their command vessels.
     Han squirmed in his seat but  didn't  say  anything  more.  Leia  shifted
uneasily in her seat also. She felt reasonably confident that  she  was  doing
the right thing, but she couldn't help feeling nervous at the same  time.  The
last time she had come face to face with Ssi-ruuvi fighters had been on a  war
footing. She remembered the  strength  of  the  fighters'  shields  and  their
maneuverability in dogfights - and perhaps more vividly she remembered how the
alien capital vessels would collect survivors with their "trooper scoopers" in
order to suck out their life energies and  hurl  them  back  at  their  former
allies...
     "Gunners standing by," announced Captain Mayn on Selonia as the  fighters
came within range.
     Leia held her breath.
     On the scanner board, she saw the  alien  fighters  break  formation  and
scatter to adopt a defensive wall around the  incoming  vessels,  just  as  an
escort would do. No shots were fired, and they stayed a discreet distance from
both Falcon and Selonia. When the second contingent of ships arrived,  the  A-
wings and B-wings slotted into the existing pattern with only a  small  amount
of jostling.
     She exhaled with a heavy sigh.
     "Thank the maker," C-3PO said from behind her.
     "You can say that again, Goldenrod."  Han  leaned  forward  to  trim  the
Falcon's course slightly, a motion designed to  disguise  the  relief  he  was
feeling, Leia knew. "We're not out of  the  woods  yet.  In  case  nobody  has
noticed, we're now effectively caught." "But at least we didn't start a  war,"
Leia said. "And this way, we just might get some answers." "What if  we  don't
like what we hear?" her husband asked wryly.
     Leia shrugged. "We'll deal with that as it happens." Han  turned  to  the
comm. Panib, who had been frantically trying to attract their  attention  over
the subspace channel, sounded like he was going to sob with relief.
     "Thank you, Falcon. You won't regret this." "We'll  reserve  judgment  on
that until we hear what's going on," Han said.
     "I understand," the general responded. "But first I must once  again  ask
that you state your intentions." Han put a weary hand to  his  forehead.  Leia
gave in.
     "We'd like to set down at Salis D'aar," she said, "and  meet  with  Prime
Minister Cundertol." "I'm afraid that won't be  possible,"  Panib  said.  "The
Prime Minister is unable  to  meet  with  anyone  at  the  moment."  "I  don't
understand, General," Leia said. "Why-" "Bakura is currently  operating  under
martial law," he explained without allowing her to  finish  her  question.  "I
shall be in charge until the crisis is over." "Then  perhaps  we  should  meet
with you," Leia said. "Whatever this crisis is, I'm sure we can  do  something
to help you out of it." "Your help would indeed be welcome," the general said,
although he didn't sound overly enthusiastic. "However, Salis D'aar is  unsafe
for you at the moment. Dock with Sentinel and I shall take a shuttle  to  meet
you within the hour. I'll explain everything then."  "Understood,"  Han  said.
Leia noted the look of skepticism on his face. "Just don't  try  and  tell  us
that the Ssi-ruuk are now the good guys, though, because I can tell you now we
won't believe you." "Not the Ssi-ruuk," Panib said. "The P'w'eck." Realization
dawned, then, for Leia-and from Han's face, she could tell  it  had  for  him,
too.
     "Okay, General," she said. "We'll see you within the hour." The comm went
dead.
     "The P'w'eck?" Tahiri repeated. "Weren't they the slaves of the Ssi-ruuk?
" "They were indeed," Leia said.
     "But how-?" "I guess that's what we're about to  learn,"  Han  said,  the
tension in his posture already easing. He  reached  forward  to  punch  a  new
course into the Falcon's command board. "In the  meantime,  let's  show  these
reptoids how to fly." Leia relayed the situation to Captain Mayn as  Han  sent
the Falcon streaking toward Sentinel. While she could understand his readiness
to accept the  immediately  obvious  explanation,  she  preferred  to  reserve
judgment until she'd heard what Panib had to say. Nothing, she knew, was  ever
quite as simple as it seemed.
     Only by force of will was Jacen able to hold on to the  contents  of  his
stomach as he watched Tekli operate on the injured stormtrooper. The  man  lay
facedown on the operating table, naked  to  the  waist  and  fed  by  numerous
intravenous drips and tubes. They had barely reached the Widowmaker's  medical
bay in time. Had it not been for Luke and himself propping  up  the  trooper's
defenses with large amounts  of  the  Force,  the  alien  invader  would  have
probably overtaken his immune system completely and effectively killed him. As
it was, Saba Sebatyne still had to strengthen  the  stormtrooper  while  Tekli
tried to isolate the organism, carefully cutting through and  around  delicate
tissues with her vibroscalpel. It was difficult and dangerous work, but  after
almost forty-five minutes of painstaking surgery, Tekli seemed to have finally
exposed the problem.
     The centipedelike creature the stormtrooper had been force-fed on Munlali
Mafir had turned out not to be a "meal" at all, but  rather,  as  Hegerty  had
suspected, an uninvited guest. The juvenile Jostran had survived the acids  in
the man's stomach long enough to burrow its way into his abdominal cavity  and
locate his spine. Once there, it had  used  the  tips  of  its  many  legs  to
infiltrate nerves and tunnel into his spinal column. It had been  working  its
way up to his skull, gradually taking over his body  as  it  went.  Tekli  had
caught it at the very top of the man's spine, just as it was about  to  invade
his brainpan.
     Its central body had already sent dozens  of  hairlike  tendrils  snaking
into delicate neural tissues, and these  were  making  extraction  exceedingly
difficult.
     Tekli didn't doubt that the  creature  had  numerous  defense  mechanisms
designed to discourage removal. The filaments could  physically  damage  nerve
cells during extraction,  or  they  could  excrete  any  number  of  chemicals
designed to kill as much tissue as possible around themselves. Only  with  the
help of Jacen was she able, strand by strand, to finally save the stormtrooper
from a horrible fate. Jacen attuned his mind to that of the Jostran  and  kept
it docile while Tekli worked, finding it much easier when it was  on  its  own
rather than in a pack of eleven.
     Jacen couldn't shake the ghastly thought of what might have  happened  as
Tekli scooped up the wriggling body of the alien and dropped it into a  tissue
sample container. Hair-thin tendrils trailed it like roots from a plant.
     "Well done, my friend," he said. "Master Cilghal would be proud of  you."
"Thank you, Jacen," Tekli said, stepping back from the table and removing  her
gloves, leaving a medical droid to suture the patient's wound. "But perhaps we
should save congratulations until the anesthetic wears off." The  Chadra-Fan's
ears were limp with fatigue and her fur appeared dull. It was clear  that  the
intense concentration required for the operation had taken a lot out of her.
     "You're exhausted," Jacen said.
     She nodded. "I feel as tired as you look." Jacen acknowledged the comment
with a tight smile. He hadn't had time to change from the gear  he'd  worn  on
Munlali Mafir. He'd only had time to wash the dirt and sweat off his face  and
hands. In all, he suspected he looked as exhausted as he felt.
     They left the patient in the care  of  Imperial  meditechs.  Outside  the
surgery, they met Lieutenant Stalgis waiting in the narrow  corridor.  He  had
removed his helmet - revealing a long, lined face that suggested an  age  much
older than his thirty or so years-but like Jacen, he hadn't had time to  fully
refresh himself yet.
     "How is he?" "He's fine," Jacen reassured him. "He  just  needs  time  to
recover from the surgery." "The thing-the Jostran-" Stalgis's  face  contorted
into a look of revulsion.
     "Has it?..." "It's been removed." Relief rolled  off  the  lieutenant  in
waves. "I can't tell you how grateful I am, to both of you. Tarl is a  friend,
as well as a member of my ground team. If he had died-if  we  hadn't  made  it
back in time-" Stalgis gesticulated for lack of words.
     Jacen placed a hand on the armor plating of the man's upper arm. "We were
glad to help. But I suggest you get some rest, now. Your friend  is  going  to
need you when he wakes." Stalgis nodded almost formally and strode off up  the
hallway.
     "Perhaps you should listen to your own advice,  Solo."  Jacen  turned  to
find Danni Quee standing behind  him.  She  was  smiling,  but  there  was  no
mistaking the concern underlying it.
     "I'm okay." "You're tired," she said, her green  eyes  flashing  at  him.
"And don't even try to deny it." A touch on the  back  of  his  hand  signaled
Tekli's departure. He sent a wave of gratitude to the Chadra-Fan  through  the
Force, then devoted all his attention to Danni. She stood before him wearing a
standard Jedi expeditionary suit with her arms folded across her breasts.  Her
blond, curly hair had been cut to her shoulders.
     "It's true," he admitted, stepping closer. "I am tired. In fact, I'd give
anything right now to be able to curl up on my bunk and sleep  for  a  day  or
two." "Not even an attempted denial," she said. "I'm impressed, Jacen.
     Unfortunately, there won't be time for you to sleep. You're wanted on the
bridge now." Momentary alarm welled up in him, but he pushed it back down. "Is
anything wrong?" "Nothing that can't wait ten minutes for you to cleanup." "Is
it the Chiss?" he pressed.
     "In ten minutes you'll have all the answers you need. But if you were  to
meet Commander Irolia looking like this, it  would  probably  be  taken  as  a
declaration of war." "She's not letting us proceed?" Danni continued to  evade
his questions. "... illegal use of biological  weapons  or  something..."  "At
least give me a hint!" "... cruel and unusual punishment..." "All  right,  all
right!" Smiling, and feeling energized by  the  brief  exchange,  they  walked
along the narrow corridors of the Imperial frigate  to  the  cabin  he'd  been
assigned. "Tell Uncle Luke I'll be there shortly." "That's what  comlinks  are
for." Her expression was mock indignant, but turned into a smile as she turned
and headed off for the bridge.
     "The planet is a legend," Commander Irolia said.  Her  youthful  features
were set in stubborn, self-assured lines. "I cannot believe that finding it is
your true objective." "I assure you that it's much more than a legend," Master
Skywalker said. Saba was amazed at his self-control.  She  knew  that  he  was
exhausted and irritated, but all he allowed his face to display was  calm  and
patience. "We have evidence that it once existed; the only question is whether
it still exists today." "What evidence is this?" "We were  told  about  Zonama
Sekot by Vergere, a Jedi Knight from-" "Vergere?" Irolia's eyebrows shot up at
the name. "The same Vergere who sabotaged the Alpha  Red  initiative?"  Master
Skywalker didn't flinch from the truth. "The Vergere  who  prevented  genocide
the likes  of  which  this  galaxy  has  never  seen,  yes."  The  commander's
exhalation had a mocking bite. "You expect me to trust her testimony?" "No one
is forcing you to accept anything," Captain Yage said, clearly annoyed by  the
Chiss commander's mockery. "We only want to go about our business. That's all.
" "But what is your business? That's what I am attempting to  determine."  The
meeting was being conducted on Widowmaker's bridge in full view of  the  crew.
Irolia carried herself as though it was her own ship and  her  own  crew.  Her
tone and poise displayed nothing but self-assurance. Saba  knew  that,  should
anything happen to the Chiss officer or the small contingent  of  guards  that
had escorted her across, then there would  be  dire  consequences  for  Master
Skywalker and his expedition. What's more,  Irolia  knew  that  they  knew-and
that, presumably, was why she was so confident.
     Saba wasn't an expert on humanoid appearances, but she imagined that  the
Chiss commander would have been regarded  as  quite  striking  among  her  own
people. Her face was narrow  and  angular,  her  blue  skin  smooth  and  soft
looking. Her wide red eyes contained both character and intelligence, and upon
entering the meeting, had quickly scanned everyone on the bridge.  She  didn't
doubt that the woman's evaluation of them would have been equally as brisk.
     "All we ask," Luke said, "is for the freedom to look." Irolia paced three
steps to her left, contemplating his words. "This is our territory," she said.
"You do realize that." "We recognize your authority over  regions  near  here,
yes. But we weren't aware that the Expansionary Defense Fleet had specifically
annexed this system." "If I were to tell you that we have, would  you  leave?"
"We are a peaceful expedition," Luke said. "Would you bar  a  trading  mission
from your territory, or a scientific team?" The commander laughed. "Don't  try
to fool me, Sky-walker! You're no more a trader than I am.  And  as  for  your
motives being scientific, I ask this of you: Were you  to  find  this  planet,
what exactly would you do with it?" A new voice spoke up from behind them when
Luke hesitated: "It is our hope that Zonama Sekot will  help  us  in  our  war
effort, and in doing so  save  trillions  of  lives  -  including  your  own."
Commander Irolia turned her attention to Jacen Solo, who had just entered  the
room. "Then your intentions are clearly not scientific, but  rather  military.
So why should we allow you to pursue  such  objectives  when  you  so  readily
interfere with our own?" "Alpha Red wouldn't have  won  the  war,"  Luke  said
calmly. "It would have turned us all  into  monsters."  "That's  the  war  I'm
talking about," Jacen said, stepping down into  the  center  of  the  circular
bridge to join the others. "The war against ourselves."  Irolia  took  a  long
moment to consider this. "It  surprises  me  to  see  Imperials  and  the  New
Republic working alongside each other," she said finally.
     "We are no longer referred to as the New Republic," Luke said, ''We  have
a new name now: the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances."  "And  the  Empire
has freely joined this Alliance?" Irolia asked, glancing at Yage.
     "It has," the captain said.
     "I suppose the Chiss are welcome to join, too." Luke  seemed  unfazed  by
the commander's sarcasm. "The decision would be  yours.  But  yes,  you  would
indeed be welcome to join in due course." Irolia snorted derisively but didn't
address the Jedi Master's comment. Instead she said,  "What  concerns  me  the
most here, I think, is the makeup of your senior crew.
     Master Skywalker shrugged. "I have already explained  that  the  military
contingent is purely defensive." "That might indeed be true. But the intention
lies in its leaders. Mara  Jade  Skywalker,  Luke  Skywalker,  Jacen  Solo-all
renowned Jedi warriors." "Danni Quee  is  an  accomplished  scientist,"  Jacen
pointed out.
     "Yes, I recognize that name. And Soron Hegerty we know, of  course.  They
fit in with your stated aims." Danni looked both startled and flattered to  be
recognized; Hegerty, on the other hand, showed no reaction at all.
     "But you also have a Barabel among you," Irolia continued. "How  does  it
fit in?" Saba stiffened.
     "She is a Jedi Knight," Luke said.
     "Another warrior, then?" "Not in the sense that you mean." "Really?  Most
reptilian species I've ever met have been aggressive  and  predatory."  Saba's
tail thumped the floor. She couldn't help it.
     Captain Yage took a step forward at this. "Tell me, Commander, how  would
you feel if I were to tell you that most Chiss I've met have been arrogant and
condescending." Luke signaled for patience. "Saba is life-sensitive.  We  hope
that she will detect Zonama Sekot by its Force emissions when we are near it."
"Have you had any luck so far in this?" "Not yet. That's why we need  to  keep
searching." Irolia nodded after some thought. "Very well, Master Skywalker.  I
will agree to this only because we, too, would like to see this war brought to
an end." She signaled to her bodyguards, who handed her  a  flat,  rectangular
package about the same size  as  her  outstretched  hand.  "This  memory  disk
contains authority codes and routes sufficient to get you to Csilla. They will
remain active for one week. In that time, you must present yourself in  person
to obtain permission to travel within our boundaries. Without that permission,
any trespass will be regarded as an act of aggression, upon which you will  be
expelled or destroyed.
     Do I make myself clear?" Luke accepted the disk  with  a  resigned  look.
"Abundantly clear." "Then my mission here  is  complete."  Commander  Irolia's
gaze briefly swept the room. "Perhaps we shall  all  meet  again  on  Csilla."
"That's all you came here for?" Captain Yage asked. "To tell us to  report  to
your superiors?" "Not quite," Irolia answered. "I was ordered to give you  the
disk only if I thought you  trustworthy."  "And  if  we  weren't?"  The  Chiss
commander smiled at this,  but  said  nothing  in  reply.  She  simply  nodded
farewell and, with an imperious gesture, ordered her bodyguards to follow  her
as she strolled from the bridge.
     "Why that trumped-up little-" Again, Luke silenced Captain  Yage  with  a
gesture. "She's just doing her job, Arien.  We  can't  blame  her  for  that."
"Nevertheless, I'll be happier when she's off my ship."  She  turned  away  to
coordinate the disembarkation of the Chiss shuttle.
     "I can understand perfectly where you're coming from, Captain Yage."  The
hologram broke into static, then cleared to  reveal  the  face  of  Mara  Jade
Skywalker at the controls oijade Shadow. "I don't even want that woman  on  my
scopes." "You caught all that, Mara?" Luke asked, facing the image of his wife
in the holofield.
     " Loud and clear." "What gets up my jets," Yage said, "is the  assumption
that we're answerable to them at all. The Empire has been  collaborating  with
the Chiss for years, ever since Thrawn's day. But there's no  treaty-we  don't
owe them anything. Just the idea of having to report our every I  movement  to
them makes my hair stand on end." "We have to  respect  that  we're  in  their
territory now, Arien," Luke said. "And they do things differently than we do."
"Assuming we are in their territory," Mara said. "How about  looking  at  that
disk?" Jacen took it from his uncle and put it into a reader.  As  Irolia  had
promised, it contained routes and security codes, but nothing else. The  Chiss
were tight-lipped when it came to doling out information. They were  lucky  to
get this much.
     "Thoughts, anyone?" Luke asked. "Do we plow on regardless, or  should  we
comply with their request and report in?" "It's your decision," Yage said.
     "Yes, but to reach that decision I would like to hear everyone's opinion.
" "I don't think there's any great harm in doing what they say," Mara said.
     "Even though it does irk me." "I say to the Maw with them," Yage put  in.
"They can't tell us what to do." Luke nodded quietly to both women's comments.
"Jacen?" "We'll need access to their information,"  his  nephew  replied.  "It
would make things much simpler. Soron's data is  accurate  but  doesn't  cover
more than ten percent of the Unknown Regions." The  xenobiologist  had  looked
slightly bored throughout the political exchange, but seemed to  perk  up  now
that she'd been brought into the conversation. "The Chiss have been  expanding
through this section of the galaxy for decades. Irolia  clearly  knew  of  the
legend of the wandering planet, so it  must  be  common  knowledge  among  her
people. I believe access to their data would be invaluable."

     "But would it actually make the difference, do you  think?"  Luke  folded
his hands in front of him, as he so often did when pondering weighty  matters.
"It certainly might." Hegerty nodded at the map.
     This small amount of data has already told us something interesting. Note
the outer edge of their territory. See  how  it  has  held  firm  against  the
Yuuzhan Vong incursion? They have either developed similar jamming and  combat
techniques as your own fighters, or the enemy has withdrawn its  offensive  in
order to concentrate on other areas. I would imagine that the answer  to  this
mystery would be of interest to  your  tacticians  back  home."  There  was  a
general murmur of agreement following  that  observation.  The  heads  of  the
Galactic Alliance seemed an awfully long way from  the  Unknown  Regions,  but
Hegerty-and Irolia-was quite right. Luke's mission was military  at  least  in
the sense that any information of military value would immediately be added to
the war effort. Even though galaxy wide communications didn't reach  into  the
Unknown Regions, subspace transmissions could be relayed through  an  isolated
holocomm on the edge of Galactic Alliance space. All communications  from  the
mission were relayed to Cal Omas immediately.
     Luke nodded. "You might be right. But tell me, Saba:  have  you  detected
any sign of Zonama Sekot in this vicinity? If we are hot on its scent, then we
might not need to contact the Chiss at all." Saba straightened,  her  nostrils
flaring involuntarily. "I sense nothing. If Zonama Sekot iz here, it  iz  well
hidden." "I thought as much. It's like  looking  for  a  droid  in  a  desert:
something's more likely to find us before we find it." He nodded  again.  "I'm
of the opinion that we should do as Irolia says and check in  with  the  local
authorities. As Soron said, it couldn't hurt. And who knows; it might actually
Tielp." He glanced around to everyone, as though waiting to see if there  were
any objections to his decision.
     When no one spoke up, he said, "Okay, then. I'll leave the details of the
course with Mara and Arien to prepare. Those of us who  just  came  back  from
Munlali Mafir will need a break before we take on anything else." Captain Yage
smiled. "I'm sure you won't get any  argument  from  Doctor  Hegerty  on  that
score." The meeting broke up, then, leaving Mara Jade Sky-walker  and  Captain
Yage to discuss the finer points of the Chiss  map.  Luke  motioned  to  Saba,
Jacen, and Hegerty, and they joined  him  for  a  quiet  discussion  near  the
bridge's exit.
     "How did Tekli get on with the Jostran?" was the first thing he asked his
nephew.
     "It was touch and go for a  while,"  the  young  Jedi  replied.  "Another
centimeter and it would have been too late. But she caught it." "That's good,"
the Jedi Master said with a solemn expression. "I would  have  hated  to  lose
someone else." The reminder of the two stormtroopers killed on  Munlali  Mafir
was sobering. "This one has examined the  data  you  gathered,  Master,"  Saba
said. "There iza correlation with the other regionz through which Zonama Sekot
iz  recorded  to  have  passed.  The   Jostran/Krizlaw   symbionts   are   not
technologically advanced, so they do not pose an immediate  threat.  But  they
are aggressive by nature. The living planet seems to  have  exhibited  similar
avoidance tacticz elsewhere." "The Krizlaws are  certainly  aggressive,"  Luke
agreed, "That the Jostrans gave them intelligence  only  made  them  worse.  I
wonder, then, could this be what it's running from? After all, we know  Zonama
Sekot has a strong presence in the Force. It might be simply  trying  to  hide
itself from anything it associates with  violence."  "It  iz  possible,"  Saba
said.
     There followed a moment of pensive silence. Saba  suspected  the  silence
was due more to weariness than anything else.  Her  sensitive  nostrils  could
smell the exhaustion emanating from the  three  humans  around  her-especially
Master Skywalker and his nephew.
     "You must rest," she said to them. "You will be no good to anyone if  you
do not." "You're quite right, Saba," Luke said. "I was just thinking about Dif
Scaur.
     He's obviously told his side of the story to  the  Chiss."  Saba  nodded.
Scaur was the head of New Republic Intelligence;  he  had  worked  extensively
with the Chiss scientists on the virus Alpha Red, which would have  completely
wiped out the Yuuzhan Vong and all their biotechnology  had  it  been  brought
into play. That the Jedi had put a stop to the plan irked Scaur. He might  not
be above taking steps to thwart the Master's own plans in return.
     "We'll see what's waiting  for  us  at  Csilla,"  Jacen  said,  his  gaze
drifting to where Danni Quee stood on the far side of the  badge.  "Forewarned
is forearmed." "But forearmed can lead to a foregone conclusion," Luke pointed
out. "We shouldn't jump ahead of ourselves. The last thing we need  now  is  a
self-fulfilling prophecy." "Just the usual  sort,"  Saba  said,  hissing  with
amusement.
     But, as so often happened when she attempted a witticism, nobody laughed.
They just looked at her strangely.
     The first thing Tahiri noticed as she stepped  over  the  threshold  into
Sentinel was the tension. It was like  an  overwhelming  odor  emanating  from
everything around her: the air, the walls, the floors, the light fittings-even
from the people themselves. She winced; it was more  a  physical  reaction  to
something she was sensing through the Force.  What  caused  it,  however,  she
couldn't tell. She just knew it was there.
     The second thing she noticed was the briskness  of  the  salute  Princess
Leia and Han received as they  stepped  through  the  air  lock.  The  guards,
dressed in dark green uniforms, fairly jumped to attention like wires snapping
taut.
     She didn't think the reaction came from any  Palpatine-style  discipline,
though; Bakura was a peaceful world, with no history of  dictators  since  the
last Imperial governor, Nereus,  had  been  overthrown  during  the  Ssi-ruuvi
crisis. More likely, she thought, the guards were reacting to the same tension
in the air that she had detected. Something was making everyone jumpy.
     A short, stiff-backed man with thinning red hair and a  mustache  stepped
through the lines of Bakuran security guards.
     "Grell Panib," he said by way of introduction, bowing  sharply  first  to
Leia, then Han. The rest of the party - herself, Jaina, C-3PO,  Leia's  Noghri
bodyguards, and a small honor guard from Pride  of  Selonia-were  acknowledged
with a curt nod. "Welcome to Bakura." "It's been a  while,"  Han  said  dryly.
"You served  under  Pter  Thanas,  didn't  you?"  Princess  Leia  didn't  miss
anything.
     A glimpse of sadness passed across General Panib's face. "You have a fine
memory, Princess. We barely met." "It was a memorable  trip."  She  smiled  as
though at some private joke, then introduced the rest of the party. "Thank you
all for-" Panib began,  but  a  commotion  from  behind  the  security  guards
interrupted him. There j was the sound of scuffling as someone pushed forward.
     "I told you to wait for me to call you!" Not someone, Tahiri thought, her
heart suddenlypounding as, through  the  tangle  of  people,  she  glimpsed  a
reptilian creature bounding toward them. Something.
     She instantly drew her lightsaber as the memory of her dreams  lifted  to
emphasize her fears. Tahiri... Tahiri... Tahiri... The godlike lizard creature
from her dreams beckoned her.
     She blinked once, twice, to clear her head as her lightsaber crackled  in
front of her.
     "A trap!" Jaina shouted. She, too, withdrew her lightsaber. At  the  same
time, the stormtroopers raised their blasters and the  Noghri  guards  stepped
forward to protect the Princess.
     "No!" Panib quickly put himself between the reptilian creature and  their
weapons. "His intentions are not hostile!" The creature emerged from the  line
of security guards, its claws skittering piercingly on the corridor  floor  as
it came to a halt behind the general.
     The alien was a beaked reptile with a long,  muscular  tail.  Its  scales
were a dull brown,  and  beneath  prominent  ridges  its  golden  eyes  danced
alarmingly. It wore a leathery harness to which were strapped  numerous  items
that could have been either tools or badges of rank.
     "This is  I  wothin,"  General  Panib  said,  clearly  unsettled  by  the
visitors' reaction. "I assure you that-" A sudden burst of piercing tones from
the creature interrupted him.
     When it was over, Han pretended to clean out his ear. "Did  anyone  catch
that?" "I did, sir," C-3PO answered, oblivious to the fact that it had been  a
rhetorical question. "He says that he is the advance  leader  of  the  P'w'eck
Emancipation Movement, and that he welcomes us. He refers to us as 'allies  of
the free.' " Tahiri felt the uncertainty of those  around  her  as  more  loud
fluting sounded from the creature.
     " 'I mean you no harm,' " 3PO translated."Well,  that  makes  me  feel  a
whole lot easier," Han said in a rone that suggested the exact opposite.
     "I do apologize for this," Panib said. "The P'w'eck are  unaccustomed  to
advanced protocol-human or otherwise. They've only recently thrown  off  their
shackles and I started speaking for themselves, as it were." Leia  called  for
everyone to put their weapons away as | she eased past the Noghri  bodyguards,
who parted for her without protest. She stepped up to Lwothin, wearing a thin,
perhaps nervous, smile.
     "Threepio, tell Lwothin that we are pleased to meet him," she  instructed
the protocol droid. "If indeed he is a 'him.' " "He assures us  that  he  is,"
Panib said. "And there is no need for your droid to act as  mediator  in  your
dialogue with him, either. He can  understand  what  you're  saying  perfectly
well. We don't like using droids much here, so if you prefer we can supply you
with earpiece translators that  will  do  the  job  equally  as  well."  C-3PO
bristled at the suggestion that his talents  might  be  unnecessary,  or  even
distasteful. "With all due respect, sir, I was  designed  for  precisely  this
kind of situation. I am fluent in over six million languages and-" "What  he's
saying, General," Leia interrupted, "is that we'll get by."Lwothin's  nostril-
tongues tasted the air as he followed the exchange. The  P'w'eck  was  smaller
than an average Ssi-ruu, although not by much-but he was still bigger than the
average human. Muscles bunched under his leathery skin,  and  his  thick  tail
swished back and forth in a regular, easy rhythm. It was an alarming presence,
made all the more unsettling when Tahiri looked up into the creature's face to
find his three-lidded amber eyes staring out at her-almost as if  reading  her
reservations. She knew that  Leia  had  instructed  everyone  to  lower  their
weapons, but Tahiri found her thumb still hovering over the activation stud of
her lightsaber.
     "You bring Jedi Knights," Lwothin sang through C-3PO.  "I  had  hoped  to
meet one. The lightsaber is a delightful weapon:  an  elegant  blend  of  life
energy and material design. Our divergent  technologies  become  one  in  such
devices." Leia's cautious attitude became markedly frostier.  "You  still  use
entechment?" Panib stepped forward again. "I don't think this  is  either  the
time or the place for such involved discussions. Perhaps  we  should  move  to
surroundings more comfortable for all species. Yes?" "We're not going anywhere
until Leia gets an answer," Han said, his hand back on his blaster.  "I'm  not
about to have my life energy sucked out of me while my guard is down." Lwothin
danced agitatedly on the spot, fluting urgently to C-3PO.
     "He assures us that the process is not the same as you remember it,"  the
golden droid informed them. "It has been  refined  considerably.  The  P'w'eck
come in peace, he says, not war." Han looked around suspiciously. "Leia?"  "As
uncomfortable as I am about all of this," Leia said, "I don't see the point in
turning back now."  She  faced  Panib.  "But  understand  this:  the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances will never sanction any form of alliance  with  a
government that exploits the life energy of its subjects-no  matter  who  they
are, or were." "You think the P'w'eck are getting back at their old  masters?"
Panib said. "I can assure you that's  not  the  case."  "No  one  is  enteched
against their will anymore," C-3PO continued to interpret. "If you let us,  we
will explain." Leia nodded solemnly. "I'd like to hear that.  And  then  maybe
you can also explain what's happened to Prime Minister Cundertol." Panib bowed
and Lwothin jigged on the spot.
     "Please follow me," General Panib said.
     Han came up alongside Leia and gently put an arm about her, and  together
they walked in the  general's  footsteps  as  he  led  them  deeper  into  the
Sentinel. Jaina and Tahiri followed,  C-3PO  between  them  and  the  Galactic
Alliance guards behind.
     Jaina was a picture of controlled energy, eyes glancing all around-except
at Tahiri. It was as if she was deliberately avoiding her eyes.
     That hurt Tahiri. Jaina had exchanged  barely  a  monosyllable  with  her
since Galantos. And Jag Fel was no better. Every now and  then,  she  felt  as
though they were watching her from afar. They hadn't had to say anything;  she
could feel their distrust in her, and that hurt her more than any words  could
ever hope to.
     As they walked off together,  Tahiri  felt  the  scars  on  her  forehead
itching. She fought the urge to scratch. She felt self-conscious about them as
it was, without drawing any more attention  to  the  unsightly  markings.  The
self-inflicted ones on her arm had all but healed, and remained hidden beneath
the sleeve of her tunic. She had considered  getting  rid  of  them,  but  had
decided to keep them,  for  now,  out  of  an  instinct  she  didn't  entirely
understand and didn't want to think about too closely.  There  were  far  more
important things to dwell upon.
     Sentinel boasted  a  large  meeting  hall  on  an  outer  level,  with  a
transparent ceiling that afforded a magnificent viewport to the stars.  During
combat, steelcrete shields would slide shut over the top for  protection,  but
during more tranquil times it offered a wonderful view of Bakura.  The  green-
blue world hung like a fat moon above  a  ring-shaped  conference  table  that
floated on a bed of repulsors. There were enough seats for  everyone  who  had
entered the hall, but only those who'd be involved  in  the  discussions  were
invited to sit around the table.
     Jaina stood directly behind her parents, her hand  on  the  hilt  of  her
lightsaber. She didn't like being so far away from reinforcements in  such  an
unknown situation, and having her weapon within constant reach went a long way
toward easing her apprehensions. Everyone knew that the Ssi-ruuk were adept at
mental coercion; who was to say that General Panib wasn't a brainwashed  slave
intending to deliver the delegates from the Galactic Alliance to  his  masters
at the first opportunity?
     The presence of the P'w'eck didn't particularly reassure her, either.  In
fact, when two more of the creatures had joined  Lwothin,  Jaina's  misgivings
had intensified immediately. She assumed them to be bodyguards by the way they
took up position behind Lwothin, although she had to admit  they  didn't  look
any different in appearance from their superior. They wore odd-looking weapons
fastened to their harnesses: flat disks with  businesslike  snouts  protruding
from one end. Paddle beamers, she assumed. The energy beams  of  such  weapons
couldn't be deflected by lightsabers, but  they  could  certainly  be  bent  a
little.
     Lwothin himself did not have a physique that allowed him to sit on chairs
like the others present, so he was sprawled out on an assortment  of  cushions
at his appointed place around the table. This didn't detract in any  way  from
his intimidating mien.
     "Elaine Harris, the Deputy Prime Minister,  is  on  his  way  from  Salis
D'aar," Panib said by way of preamble. "But we shall begin  without  him."  "I
wouldn't say we're a captive audience," Han said, sitting restlessly at Leia's
side, "but we're prepared to hear you out." "You've come  at  a  very  awkward
time for us. I hardly know where to begin." "You could start with entechment,"
Leia said.
     "We know that you think it an abomination," Lwothin said  through  C-3PO.
"And I can sympathize with your feelings. My species has been exploited by  it
for thousands of years. We know its past evil." "Be that as it may," Han said.
"But I've seen plenty of slaves point the same weapons at their  masters  once
they'd won their freedom." "I'll admit the  temptation  was  strong,"  Lwothin
said, his beak clicking together at the end of the short phrase. " But perhaps
I should tell you the story of how we came to be here.  Maybe  then  you  will
understand us better." Jaina saw her mother nod  for  him  to  continue,  then
settled back into the large, upright chair to listen.
     "It has been almost thirty years since the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium  waged  war
in this section of the galaxy," he began.  Jaina  knew  the  story.  Initially
courted by Emperor Palpatine, the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium had expanded aggressively
into Imperial territories, starting with Bakura. Unfortunately  for  the  Ssi-
ruuk, that advance  had  been  immediately  repelled  by  the  local  Imperial
government, with the unlikely help of the Rebel Alliance.  Further  incursions
into the galaxy were  discouraged  by  the  New  Republic,  which  forced  the
Imperium back to its homeworlds. Nothing had been heard from them since. Jaina
gathered that everyone assumed they either had  learned  the  error  of  their
ways, or were gradually stockpiling for a more determined surge. Just like the
Yevetha, she thought.
     "In fact," Lwothin said, "our former masters  were  assessing  more  than
just their tactics in  the  wake  of  their  defeat."  Ssi-ruuvi  society  was
strictly clan-based, he explained, with each clan designated by the  color  of
their scales. The absolute ruler was the Shreeftut, assisted  by  the  Elders'
Council and the Conclave. The Conclave  advised  the  Shreeftut  on  spiritual
matters-another aspect of life considered  very  important  by  the  Ssi-ruuk.
Their belief system taught that the spirit of any Ssi-ruu who died away from a
consecrated world would be lost forever. It was for that reason that the  Ssi-
ruuk preferred to use combat droids powered by the enteched souls of  captives
to fight their enemies rather than risk their own lives in battle.
     "Entechment had served our masters well  for  many  centuries.  They  had
never seen any reason to change. The abhorrence with  which  you  greeted  the
technology came as a complete surprise to them.  They  had  assumed  that  all
cultures would employ the same techniques. That you  didn't  only  underscored
the novelty of the'technology you did use: that of fusion and ordinary matter.
     "Clearly the Rebel Alliance beat our former masters for more reasons than
different technology, but that was one aspect they could focus  on.  They  had
seen Imperial and Rebel Alliance vessels in action above  and  around  Bakura.
They knew enough material physics to  back-engineer  the  technology  and  re-
create it in their laboratories. Within ten  standard  years,  they  possessed
prototype hybrid vessels that employed your technology for shields and engines
but were directed by enteched minds. With a  significantly  reduced  drain  on
their life forces, such pilots existed much longer  and  in  less  agony  than
before." "But they were still enteched," Han interrupted.
     "Yes. The mind of every prototype  droid  fighter  consisted  of  a  soul
stolen from the body of a P'w'eck. The fact  that  their  suffering  had  been
lessened was balanced by the fact that they suffered longer. The situation was
still undeniably wrong.
     "Into this time, the Keeramak was born." A new note entered the P'w'eck's
voice. It might have been fear, Jaina thought. Or maybe awe.
     "What is this Keeramak?" Leia asked.
     "It is hard to explain in terms that you might understand. You know  that
those of the Ssi-ruuk with blue scales ruled the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium, and  that
the gold-scales were our priests. Yellow-scales studied the sciences of matter
and energy. Those with russet scales were our warriors, while those with green
scales were workers. Below them, barely  above  my  own  species,  were  those
resulting from a  mixed  or  unsuccessful  breeding:  the  brown-scales.  Some
suspected them of being the progenitors of the P'w'eck in ages past.  Regarded
as dim-witted and brutish, they were fit only for the most  menial  of  lives.
Many, especially those born of a forbidden union, were destroyed at birth.
     "That was the world into which the Keeramak was born. It is important you
understand this, because the Keeramak should not exist.  One  of  a  brood  of
brownscale Ssi-ruuk, the Keeramak alone possessed color. But it does not  just
have one color: the Keeramak has all colors. That  is  what  makes  it  unique
among the Ssi-ruuk." Lwothin performed a  complicated  gesture  involving  the
muscles of his tail and spine, as though shrugging his entire body. "That  the
Keeramak was a sport, a deviant birth, was clear. It had no clear gender,  and
its size was anomalous.
     But that was irrelevant. Its birth sent shock waves through the Ssi-ruuk.
They place a great value on spiritual matters, as you know, and such  a  birth
had been prophesied for millennia. The Keeramak, the  birth  of  many  colors,
would be the one to take the oppressed and make them lords; the Keeramak would
make the weak strong." "What you're saying," Han said, "is that  the  Ssi-ruuk
embraced the Keeramak because they thought it would lead them to victory  over
us, right?" "That is correct," Lwothin said. "They raised it like a king, with
every privilege and opportunity to learn and grow. The Keeramak soon proved to
be exceptional in all respects: strong, intelligent, wise. It argued with  the
Shreef-tut over the limitations  of  power,  it  challenged  the  Conclave  on
matters of theology, and it rivaled the Elders' Council when it came to  minor
points of law. But ultimately it was the Keeramak's compassion  that  was  its
greatest point-as well as the Ssi-ruuk's undoing." "It chose you  over  them?"
Leia asked.
     "The Keeramak was the one who led us to victory over our former  masters.
It conceived our revolt and consolidated the aftermath. Within a year,  Lwhekk
was ours and the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium a thing of the past. And now,  five  years
on, the Keeramak still guides our destiny." "Impressive," Leia said. "Throwing
off an oppressor is only the beginning of a long and difficult journey." Jaina
nodded, knowing that her mother spoke from experience.
     "In  the  wake  of  our  liberation,  we  have  continued  research  into
entechment," Lwothin said, through C-3PO. "We have found ways to  nourish  the
stored minds reclaimed during our revolution. The life energy  distilled  from
concentrated banks of algae and other primitive  life-forms  can  prevent  the
decay common to previous soul-captures. It also goes a long way toward staving
off the discomfort many feel when enteched. Now that we have diverted much  of
the life-draining work to your forms of technology and reduced the  strain  on
the enteched soul, we have reversed many of the wrongs  forced  upon  captives
and slaves in the past.
     "The droid fighters you saw today are piloted by those  enteched  in  the
last days of the Imperium." Lwothin's triple eyelids blinked in a  complicated
manner.
     "Although we do continue to  offer  entechment  as  a  form  of  military
service, there are few who willingly sacrifice their physical  lives.  There's
no way back, of course. Such a decision is not lightly  made."  "I'm  sure  it
wouldn't be," Leia said as she faced General Panib.
     From the tone of  her  mother's  voice,  coupled  with  the  set  of  her
shoulders and the way she sat in the chair before her, Jaina  could  tell  she
wasn't entirely convinced by Lwothin's lengthy explanation-even though it  did
concur with the odd Force readings they'd had from the droid fighters.
     "General Panib, have you seen anything to contradict Lwothin's  statement
that no one has been enteched against his or her will?" "None of us have  been
enteched, if that's what you're getting at," the general said. "In fact, there
have been no aggressive moves made against us whatsoever.
     Although..." "What?" Han prompted, leaning forward slightly in his chair.
     "Well, that's something else we will need to talk about: why you've  come
at such a bad time. The P'w'eck arrived here two weeks ago, offering a treaty.
Prime Minister Cundertol and the Senate deliberated for days  before  arriving
at the decision to accept the offer. The Prime Minister's announcement  caused
a few riots. It's hard to explain to the general population  that  we  haven't
sold them out." "I can understand that," Han muttered.
     "We thought the people were coming around," Panib went on.  "The  defense
advantages of joining with the P'w'eck are obvious, given the  Yuuzhan  Vong's
gradual drift this way. And we had a lot be grateful to them for,  since  they
did get rid of the Ssi-ruuvi threat." Panib fidgeted uneasily. "But there  are
complications-and conditions." "Such as?" Leia asked.
     "Lwothin has mentioned religion; the P'w'eck are  like  the  Ssi-ruuk  in
that  they  share  some  of  the  same  traditions.  In  order  to  make  them
comfortable, there are details we have to attend  to.  Cundertol  wanted  this
Keeramak of theirs to come to Bakura to sign the treaty in person, but  he-it-
wouldn't come unless Bakura was consecrated. You see,  it  believes  like  the
rest of the Ssi-ruuk that if it dies away from one of the sacred worlds,  then
its soul will be lost forever. And the fact is, assassination isn't out of the
question-especially given the volatile temperament of some of the public right
now." His glance to Lwothin was filled with apology.  "We  are  neighbors;  we
must learn to trade and fight side by side. If Bakura and the P'w'eck  are  to
work together, then we have to consider all our religious beliefs.  We'd  like
them to feel safe enough to visit here. Toward this end, Cundertol managed  to
find  a  compromise:  the  Keeramak  would  come  to  Bakura  to  perform  the
consecration in person. The ceremony was planned for two days from now. That's
where  things  stood  when-"  "When  Prime  Minister  Cundertol  disappeared,"
interrupted a voice from the entrance to the chamber.
     Jaina's grip on her lightsaber tightened instinctively as she  turned  to
see a tall, aging man in a scarlet robe approach the table. His face was  long
and angular, the bones beneath clearly showing.  Two  Bakuran  guards  closely
shadowed him, rifles held firmly across their chests.
     "Deputy  Prime  Minister  Harris,"  Panib  said,  standing.  He   sounded
relieved. "Thank you for joining us." Harris indicated for Panib to return  to
his seat, then nodded to everyone else around the table by  way  of  greeting.
"Princess Leia, Captain Solo: it's a pleasure to meet you again. And of course
you, Lwothin." An attendant brought up a chair, and he sat between the P'w'eck
and Leia."I apologize for the delay," he said to Panib, "but there was a  bomb
threat at the main spaceport and I had to take a shuttle from Lesser Grace. As
you can see," he explained to the rest of the table, "we are suffering from  a
pronounced civil unrest. Not on behalf of the majority, I imagine, but  rather
a violent and unprincipled minority  who  think  they  know  what's  best  for
Bakura. This minority has decided that the P'w'eck are no different  from  the
Ssi-ruuk, and the Keeramak's visit here is nothing more than an elaborate ruse
that will result in the entech-ment of everyone. 'Once  an  enemy,  always  an
enemy' is their maxim.
     There  is  simply  no  room  for  negotiation."  He  clenched  his  fists
helplessly on the table. His gaze fell upon Leia and Han.  "I  understand  you
have experienced interference from them already." "A secure  transmission  was
interrupted by someone warning us away," Leia said. "Whoever it was had access
to comm channels that should have been  restricted."  "They  are  everywhere,"
Harris said sourly. "As the consecration looms, their  desperation  increases.
They have been behind at least five disruptions to subspace communications  in
the last fortnight. Kidnapping Mo-lierre Cundertol  was  an  act  of  suicidal
bravado. It is strange but, while I have to condemn  their  methods,  I  can't
help admire their spirit." He shook his head sadly.
     "Nevertheless, we will never  negotiate  with  terrorists."  "What  about
Cundertol?" Han asked. "Any idea where he's being kept?" "We'll find out  soon
enough. Especially now that we  have  the  terrorist  leader  in  our  hands."
General Panib was clearly taken aback by this news.  "Since  when?"  "She  was
taken into custody shortly before I left to  come  here.  We  have  her  in  a
security holding cell, awaiting interrogation." "Is she-" Panib hesitated.  "-
who we suspected she was?" "Malinza  Thanas,"  Harris  answered  with  a  smug
smile. "Yes." The surprise in the room was  palpable.  Jaina  knew  the  name.
Malinza Thanas was the daughter of people her parents and Uncle Luke  had  met
on Bakura the first time they'd visited. When Malinza's parents had died, Luke
and Mara had taken her on as a sponsor child, visiting her a couple of  times.
She'd heard nothing about the girl being a terrorist leader, however.
     "Malinza?" Leia asked. "Are you certain of  this?"  "There's  no  doubt,"
Harris stated. "She admits it herself." "She admits she  kidnapped  the  Prime
Minister?" Panib asked.
     "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time." "When you say 'interrogation'-
" "I don't mean to imply torture, Princess," Harris said. "We are a  civilized
people, and it would take more than a little civil  unrest  to  reduce  us  to
savages." "This doesn't add up." Han was shaking his head. "Whoever  we  spoke
to when we arrived warned us away because they  thought  we  were  after  your
ships. They implied that the P'w'eck were your allies.  But  that  contradicts
what you've just told us about the terrorists. If  they're  anti-P'w'eck  they
wouldn't want any association with them at all." "What can  I  say?  They  are
confused and directionless, their aims unclear  even  to  themselves."  Harris
shrugged dismissively. "We have suffered at the  hands  of  such  isolationist
groups ever since the overthrow of the Empire.  There  are  indeed  those  who
resent the intrusion of the New Republic into our affairs. Some of  these  may
have allied themselves with the anti-P'w'eck movement to gain the illusion  of
numbers. Such people won't be happy until Bakura stands alone against the rest
of the galaxy - and inevitably falls alone, too." "So what now?" Panib asked.
     "The first thing, General, is to put our house in order.  While  we  look
for the Prime Minister, I suggest we end martial law  and  begin  preparations
for the consecration. The treaty depends on it; the Prime Minister  would  not
want it delayed for anything. With your permission, I shall convene the Senate
and get things  moving."  "Of  course."  The  general's  relief  was  obvious.
"There's not much time, and a lot  to  be  done."  Lwothin  spoke  up.  "  'We
understand that this is a difficult time for you,' " C-3PO translated, "  'and
we are grateful for your continued efforts to bring our governments together.'
" The P'w'eck's beak snapped emphatically. " I will convey  my  assurances  to
the Keeramak that all is in order and the ceremony will go ahead as  planned.'
': "Thank you, my friend." Blaine Harris inclined his head in the direction of
the P'w'eck ambassador. "And you, of course," he added to Han and  Leia,  "are
very welcome to attend also. I'm sure it will be a fascinating glimpse into  a
culture we've theorized about for many years, but never had the opportunity to
see with our own eyes." "We'd be honored," Leia said. "The Galactic Federation
of Free Alliances will be very interested to observe  the  ceremony."  General
Panib stood, and the others around the table followed suit. "I hope you  won't
be offended if I call this meeting to an end, but I  have  urgent  matters  to
discuss with the Deputy  Prime  Minister."  "Of  course."  Leia  accepted  the
explanation with her usual diplomatic aplomb. "And thank you  for  taking  the
time to explain the situation here. There are still some aspects I'd  like  to
discuss in more detail at a later date, if possible." "It would be my pleasure
to accommodate you," the general said. He spoke and moved  with  a  confidence
that had been lacking before the Deputy Prime Minister's news.  "And  I  shall
ensure that Salis D'aar spaceport is secured for your arrival. Hopefully  with
Thanas in custody, the situation will cool down a little now." Leia  bowed  in
acknowledgment.
     The Deputy Prime Minister bowed also as Leia and Han's party filed toward
the exit. Lwothin and his two bodyguards followed close behind,  and  although
he made no effort to come too close, Jaina still made sure to position herself
carefully between her parents and the powerful saurian.
     Once outside, the P'w'eck fluted in his loud, melodic way.
     "Lwothin says that this is a pivotal time for  all  our  species,"  C-3PO
interpreted. More fluting and gesturing followed. "He also  says  that  he  is
glad that you will be attending the ceremony. The  Keeramak  will  be  pleased
when it hears the news." Without waiting for a response,  the  P'w'eck  headed
off down the corridor, bodyguards in tow.
     "Chirpy fellow, ain't he?" Han said.
     "Something's not adding up here," Jaina said. She was  glad  the  meeting
was over and she was once again able to be involved in discussions.  "How  can
the Bakuran resistance be everywhere and yet still be  a  minority?"  "Maximum
disruption," Leia said, "for minimum effort. We  could  be  seeing  the  Peace
Brigade at work here." "What's left of them," Han muttered. "It's like getting
a dent out of a deflector grille, even after Ylesia." "At least we're not  too
late this time," Jaina said, the destruction of  N'zoth  still  fresh  in  her
mind.
     "That's assuming, of course," Leia said, "that we have the  full  story."
"The story, Yu'shaa. Tell us the story," whispered the acolytes  crowding  the
darkened audience hall. "Tell us about the Jeedai." The Prophet gazed down  at
them from his throne, his expression hidden behind a mask  of  truly  horrific
proportions. A maze of scars and tattoos, it  was  barely  recognizable  as  a
face.
     "Who asks?" he demanded in accordance with the service.
     "We do, Yu'shaa," the pilgrims responded with a unified bowing  of  their
heads.
     "We are the Shamed Ones, and we come to  you  for  wisdom."  The  Prophet
nodded, satisfied by  the  formal  response.  Warders  outside  the  hall  had
carefully instructed the audience on how and when to speak. The being  on  the
inside of the mask smiled to himself,  knowing  that  these  conventions  were
nothing more than a sham  to  encourage  obedience  to  him  and,  ultimately,
rebellion against his enemies.
     Nom Anor rose from his seat on the  throne  and  removed  the  mask.  The
hideous creation was meant to  represent  Shimrra  and  the  gods,  while  its
removal symbolized the casting off of the  old  ways.  He  had  devised  every
detail of the ceremony  with  the  help  of  Shoon-mi  and  Kunra,  his  chief
acolytes, but no matter how many times he did it, it still felt  clumsy.  Only
the reactions of the converts convinced him that it was working.
     The acolytes looked wonderingly up at Nom Anor's  "real"  face-not  aware
that this was just another mask, an ooglith masquer designed to make him  look
like a member of the Shamed caste. "The gods have granted  me  a  vision,"  he
announced. "It is a vision of a galaxy of beautiful worlds-worlds in which all
Yuuzhan Vong can live in peace as well as in glory, free of  shame,  and  with
everything their hearts and souls desire."  In  recent  weeks,  Nom  Anor  had
learned to become more animated and expressive when addressing the groups that
came to hear him speak. At first he had just sat there and spoken, but he soon
found the attention of the Shamed Ones would drift beneath his dull monotones.
So he'd adopted some of the techniques he  had  observed  in  Vuu-rok  I'pan-a
storyteller from the group of Shamed Ones that had first taken him  in  during
his initial exile to Yuu-zhan'tar's underworld. Nom Anor clearly recalled  how
I'pan had told the story of Vua Rapuung, and how those gathered  had  listened
intently, hanging from his every word-even though they had heard the  tale  so
many times before.
     "But as I gazed upon this vision," Nom Anor went on with dramatic  flair,
"a dark shadow came between my hungry eyes and the sight of  the  worlds  that
should be ours. The huge, black shadow had rainbows that shined from its eyes;
its mighty hands were darkened from bloodstains."  The  congregation  listened
spellbound, just as I'pan's audience had once listened to him. Nom Anor raised
a hand to demand silence-an unnecessary gesture since the silence was  already
profound, but one that served to reinforce his command over the gathering.
     "The gods opposed the  great  shadow,  the  Rainbow-Eyed  Ore,  and  they
brought forth their holy warriors to strike it down!" He stared  down  at  the
crowd. "You know the name of these  warriors."  The  whisper  surrounded  him.
"Jeedai!" He nodded his approval, and leaned forward as  though  to  impart  a
great secret. And it was a great secret, for uttering it could easily mean the
death of everyone in the room.
     "Yes, the gods sent the Jeedai to drive away the Rainbow-Eyed Enemy.  For
weeks and months they fought. The Shadow killed many of the holy warriors, and
kept the rest at bay. Night fell across the galaxy, and it  seemed  as  though
the war was hopelessly lost. Our home had been taken from us! The Yuuzhan Vong
were no longer favored by the gods, for we had debased ourselves on the  altar
of the Shadow!" "No," moaned one in the congregation, shaking his  head.  Even
from his place at the front of the congregation, Nom Anor could smell the rank
odor of the Shamed One's decaying arm.
     He smiled inwardly. It was all too easy to work his will over the  loose-
knit congregations of heretics that infested the capital. Their  members  were
weak and desperate, while he was strong and resourceful.
     "No indeed," he said. "Even as despair overcame me at the defeat  of  the
Jeedai, even as it seemed as  though  the  Rainbow-Eyed  One  would  never  be
stopped, the gods gave me hope. For just when all was dark, I saw the  grasses
of the field turn against the Shadow. I saw them rise and wrap around the feet
of the Rainbow-Eyed One. The Enemy stumbled and fell-and then the grasses rose
to bind the Shadow's mighty limbs! The grasses held this Foe of  the  gods  to
the ground, wrapping themselves around his throat and squeezing the very  life
from him, removing the influence of his black heart from the land!
     "By themselves, each blade of grass was  weak;  but  together  they  were
mighty!" The congregation sighed with relief and joy at the exclamation.
     "Let us be as the grass and twine about the  feet  of  our  adversary  to
bring him crashing down. For individually we may be weak, but like the  grass,
together we can be strong." The congregation hissed its appreciation, and  Nom
Anor basked in their approval. In all the years he'd served as an executor, he
had never had such an audience. It had been impossible to  speak  honestly  or
openly for fear of offending the warmaster or the  priests-or,  through  them,
the gods. Now he had the attention of  hundreds,  and  they  would  listen  to
anything he said. He was wise enough to realize, though, that  such  attention
would last only as long as they approved of his  message.  They  devoured  the
nonsense about the Jedi along with his message of  self-empowerment-and  while
he had no great belief in the former, he was very much in favor of the latter.
The Shamed Ones were his ride back to the surface. He was happy to  give  them
the means so he could achieve the end.
     The allure of the means wasn't lost on him. As  an  executor,  he  hadn't
properly appreciated the need and strength of the  lower  castes.  The  Shamed
Ones were indeed weak individually, as he taught in his sermons, but this  was
easily made up for with their overwhelming numbers. The majority had  belonged
to the worker caste before their Shaming, but some had been  of  higher  rank.
Moreover, it wasn't just the Shamed Ones who answered his  call.  Converts  to
his Jedi cult were increasingly drawn from junior members  of  the  un-Shamed-
from the workers, the shapers, the warriors, the priests, and the inten-dants.
The shapers knew the tools of their trade, the priests and intendants knew how
to organize, and the warriors knew how to fight. Anyone who descended upon one
of these meetings to make arrests was in for a nasty surprise.
     Although it was hard to remember sometimes, those in his audience weren't
particularly gullible. They weren't uneducated; they weren't stupid. They just
wanted authority, and he would give it to them.
     When the muttering died away, he returned to the throne and motioned  the
audience to gather around him. In  reality,  the  chamber  was  just  a  large
basement hundreds of meters below the spires of Yuuzhan'tar, and his  "throne"
was just a chair coated in moss of different shades to  make  it  look  better
than it really was. It didn't matter. The congregation saw what it  wanted  to
see, just as it heard what it wanted to hear.
     Nom Anor leaned forward to talk to them with less ceremony. It  was  time
to give them the Message.
     "How many here have met the Jeedai face-to-face?"  he  asked.  "How  many
have heard the message from their own lips, in their own  tongue?"  He  waited
for someone to answer in the affirmative but, as always, no one  did.  In  all
the sermons he'd given, not one of the Shamed Ones who came to  him  had  ever
met or even seen a single example of the ones they venerated and looked to for
liberation.
     "I have met the Jeedai," he said. "I have gazed upon the Twins  and  seen
their power; I have wondered at the  Jeedai-who-was-shaped;  I  witnessed  the
death of perhaps the greatest of them all, the one  called  Anakin  Solo,  who
gave his life so that the ones he loved might live; and I have spoken to their
elders and heard their message with my own ears. That I have  done  all  these
things and am here before you now attests to the truth of  what  I  have  told
you. If what I say is not the truth, then may the gods strike me down here and
now where I stand and erase this blasphemy from the heart of the galaxy!"  Nom
Anor could feel the congregation holding its collective  breath,  and  he  hid
another a smile as he dragged out the pause a little longer than was  strictly
necessary. He wanted the acolytes to realize that they were  still  afraid  of
the old gods, that old habits died hard.
     He never grew tired of seeing the impact his words had  upon  the  Shamed
Ones.
     It never failed to amuse him how  he  could  manipulate  their  emotions.
Strictly speaking, Nom Anor's claims weren't lies. He had met a lot of Jedi in
the course of his duty, just not in the capacity of an ally. Nor had  he  ever
stopped to listen to their philosophy. They'd usually been  on  the  receiving
end of one of his schemes to betray and destroy them, or he'd been  doing  his
level best to survive when those schemes went wrong.
     When the silence was as taut as a stretched ligament, he  began  to  tell
them the story of Vua Rapuung, the Shamed One who had found redemption in  the
actions of the Jedi Knight called Anakin Solo. They had all heard  it  before,
of course; none of them would have made it this far had they not been able  to
give at least a rough outline of the story, thereby demonstrating that someone
thought them trustworthy. But this was the "official" version,  as  taught  by
the Prophet. It contained all the correct details in the right order, and  was
consistent with the known facts. It conveyed precisely the  right  message  at
exactly the right time.
     So Nom Anor intended it, anyway. Again, lacking  true  belief,  he  could
only judge by the reactions of those who came to hear him speak. They listened
rapturously and left enlivened, empowered to spread the Message. All knew that
being associated in any way with the Prophet would mean torture and death; the
keepers of the old gods were jealous and did not tolerate challengers to their
beliefs.
     How far knowledge of the existence of the cult had  spread  was  hard  to
say. Did Shimrra lose concentration during his  nightly  flagellations  as  he
pondered the spreading rot? Nom Anor could only hope so.
     "... and there the Jeedai heresy  might  have  ended,  had  it  not  been
witnessed by the Shamed Ones watching from  the  edge  of  the  battle-by  the
shapers' damutek.
     They spread the Message-and to this day the Message continues to  spread,
from mouth to ear among those like us. There is another way, a way that  leads
to acceptance, and a new word for hope: Jeedai." Nom Anor paused at the end of
the tale to sip from a drink bulb that Shoon-mi had ensured was at hand before
the acolytes had filed into the room. The ending of the tale was identical  to
the ending he had first heard from I'pan.  He  told  it  this  way  to  remind
himself both of the story's origins and of I'pan's fate. I'pan's death at  the
hands of a band of warriors that had come  searching  for  stolen  provisions-
thefts I'pan had conducted with Nom Anor in order to keep their small band  of
outlaws alive - had galvanized Nom Anor into action. Without that to  motivate
him, he might have still been living in anonymity, waiting for his luck to run
out instead of making his own.
     "I shall answer your questions now," he said after a moment.
     There were always questions.
     "Did Yun-Yuuzhan create the Jeedafi" was the first, shouted by  a  female
near the front.
     "Yun-Yuuzhan created all things," he answered, "the Jeedai included. They
are as much a part of his plan as we are. This will probably seem confusing to
some, but you must remember that we should never assume to know  Yun-Yuuzhan's
plan in its entirety. We are as ghazakl worms before him. Would  such  a  worm
understand even the most menial task you perform?" "Are they aspects  of  Yun-
Shuno, then?" a male cried out from the back.
     "As with all beings, different ones appeal to different  gods.  The  twin
Jeedai, Jaina and Jacen Solo, are often associated with  the  twin  gods  Yun-
Txiin and Yun-Q'aah. Jaina is also associated with Yun-Harla,  the  Trickster.
All the Jeedai are disciplined warriors, so they fight with the favor of  Yun-
Yammka, the Slayer. They revere life as does Yun-Ne'Shel, the  Modeler.  Self-
sacrifice for the greater good is part of their teaching, as it is  with  Yun-
Yuuzhan. And yes, they have acted as intercessors for the Shamed Ones  in  the
fashion of Yun-Shuno.
     "But in essence, they are beings like us. They are not  themselves  gods,
any more than Shimrra is. They are mortal; they can be  killed.  I  know  this
because I have seen them die with my own  eyes.  There  are  even  stories  of
Jeedai who wreak destruction instead of good, so we know that they have  flaws
like us. It is their teaching we must follow so we can be strong like them, so
we can be accepted as equals again." "Yu'shaa, what is the  Force?"  Nom  Anor
pretended to ponder this question before  he  answered.  In  reality,  he  had
already given it a great deal of thought. He had seen firsthand the effects of
the Force, but he had never understood it. Unlike those he  had  once  served,
however, he refused to dismiss that failure to  understand  as  a  failure  on
behalf of the Jedi. That was absurd. He simply could not hide  from  the  fact
that the Jedi Knights had access to something that the  Yuuzhan  Vong  clearly
did not.
     It became worse the more he thought about it. If, as  the  Jedi  claimed,
the Yuuzhan Vong truly didn't possess the mystical life force or energy  field
that filled-or fueled - the galaxy they had invaded, did that mean, then, that
the Yuuzhan Vong and all their works-and  their  gods  -  were  as  empty  and
lifeless as the machines they despised?
     There were two obvious solutions to this problem,  as  far  as  Nom  Anor
could see. One was to embrace the teachings of the Jedi in order to learn more
about what had gone wrong, and maybe save themselves from  a  pointless  "non-
life." The other was to find evidence, somehow, that the Yuuzhan Vong  weren't
entirely closed to this ubiquitous Force-that somewhere  inside  them  existed
the same spark of life that burned in the Jedi.
     His answer to the question attempted to address both solutions in  a  way
that left neither resolved.
     "The Force is an aspect of creation, the same as matter  and  energy.  It
may even be an aspect of the creation, the primordial sacrifice  that  brought
forth all things from Yun-Yuuzhan. We  are  taught  that  Yun-Yuuzhan  is  the
source of all life, the Overlord who, through great pain to  himself,  created
the lesser gods and thus, by connection, che Yuuzhan Vong. We assume that  his
sacrifice was of his body-as  his  followers  might  sacrifice  an  arm  or  a
thousand captives in his honor. But why should that be so?  Why  do  we  limit
Yun-Yuuzhan's generosity only to that which we can see and touch? Just as  the
wind is invisible to our eyes, there are many more things in the universe than
we can sense with our corporeal bodies, and all these things spring ultimately
from Yun-Yuuzhan. The Force is part of that, too.
     "But what is it exactly?" Nom Anor shook his head. "I cannot address that
question, my friends, because I simply do not have the answer. On this matter,
I am as ignorant as all of you. The Force is a mystery-one that may  haunt  us
forever. All we can do is grope in the darkness for  that  thing  we  know  is
missing, in the hope that we might somehow stumble across it by  chance."  Nom
Anor leaned forward again, dropping his voice to a whisper so they were forced
to listen closely to his words. "So far in my groping, I have  discovered  two
things that I want you to consider. The first is that our way and the  way  of
the Jeedai are not necessarily at odds with each other. I'm not suggesting, as
some have proposed, that we replace our pantheon with that of the  Jeedai  and
the Force-but that we are both prophets of a new way." He  paused  again,  but
not long enough for anyone to voice another question.
     "The other thing is no more than speculation, really, but I offer  it  to
you anyway, for  you  to  consider.  I  mentioned  before  that  Yun-Yuuzhan's
sacrifice might have been of more than just  his  body;  that  he  might  have
offered up things in order to bring the universe into  being-things  that  the
likes of you and I can neither see nor sense. We see aspects of him  reflected
in everything around us.
     So is it not possible that the Force, in all its mystery and  wonder,  is
what remains of Yun-Yuuzhan's soul?" Nom Anor leaned  back  into  the  throne,
leaving them to ponder that thought for a moment. He honestly didn't  know  if
it meant anything or not, but the audience seemed to think it profound.
     He let himself relax while they contemplated the notion. These  were  the
toughest questions, and he was glad to get them out of the way early, but they
were also the ones he had prepared for the most. From here on, if the acolytes
followed the usual patterns, the questions would be relatively trivial.
     "Who are you, Yu'shaa?" asked a disfigured warrior from off to  one  side
of the gathering.
     He dodged the answer with rhetoric, in much the same way  he  might  have
once deflected thud bugs with his am-phistaff. "I am one of you: anonymous  in
servitude, remarkable only for my willingness to speak out against  those  who
would have us defiled." "Where did you come from?" "Like you-like all of you-I
was born and raised on one of the  many  worldships  that  crossed  the  gulfs
between galaxies, following our ancestors' vision of a promised land." It  was
the truth, of course, just not the whole truth.  Nom  Anor  had  acted  as  an
advance scout, arriving many years before the main body of the migration.  His
mission had been to gather  information  about  the  governments  and  species
occupying the worlds  ahead.  He  had  prepared  the  way  for  later  agents,
exploring pressure points  and  sowing  seeds  of  dissent.  Those  seeds  had
flowered  into  rebellions  and  counter-rebellions,  destabilizing  the   New
Republic and widening the cracks that had  ultimately  led  to  its  downfall.
During the war, he had helped found the Peace Brigade that had so  jeopardized
the Jedi cause, and set many other schemes into motion. But there was  no  way
he was going to let them know that.
     "Is the war wrong?" asked one from the front, his eyes  wide  and  hungry
for answers. That was a difficult question. Being pro-Jedi didn't  necessarily
mean that the galaxy wasn't intended to be the Yuuzhan  Vong's  new  home.  It
didn't mean that it was wrong to fight the Galactic Alliance, since it  wasn't
ruled by Jedi and  didn't  openly  advocate  Jedi  values.  It  was  perfectly
reasonable to be soundly pro-Jedi and yet at the same time fanatically opposed
to any suggestion that the war should be ended.
     The trouble was, Nom Anor suspected that the Yuuzhan Vong were now losing
the war. He had no confidence in Shimrra's ability to restore  the  situation.
He understood the bankruptcy of the Supreme Overlord's regime-he knew  of  the
lies, the betrayals, the desperate search for an antidote in the form  of  the
eighth cortex. Without a radical change in direction or fortune, the  Galactic
Alliance was going to win.
     For the worshipers of Yun-Yammka, the god of carnage, there was  no  such
thing as losing. There was only winning or dying.  A  failure  to  defeat  the
Galactic  Alliance  would  inevitably  mean  a  fight  to  the  end,  and  the
destruction of all that Nom Anor held dear. His only hope, therefore,  was  to
change the direction of the war from beneath, by muddying the waters  for  the
enemy. Would the Jedi be so keen to attack when they  had  supporters  in  the
Yuuzhan Vong ranks? He suspected not. They were warriors, but they  were  also
guilty of compassion.
     "The war is an aberration," he said, offering the reply  he  always  used
when fielding this kind of question. "It is a lie. We should never  have  been
fighting the Jeedai in the first place, since they are the only ones who  will
speak up for those without voices-those like us. Nor  should  we  be  fighting
those who  call  the  Jeedai  allies,  either,  since  alone  the  Jeedai  are
insufficient to destroy the Supreme Overlord. We should be fighting  the  ones
who pit like against like, who use fear and betrayal to keep the powerless  in
their place, who would strike down Yun-Yuuzhan himself  in  order  to  satisfy
their greed! It is never wrong to fight for what is ours, but  you  must  make
certain that you do so for the right reasons. Be clear who your enemy  is.  It
is Shame. But together, like the grass, we can bring an end to this Shame once
and for all." The audience responded enthusiastically to his words,  and  this
time Nom Anor did smile. They were his now, would do anything for him. He  had
led them to the noose, and they had happily put their heads through  of  their
own accord. "What do we do now, Prophet?" Nom Anor sought out the  questioner,
and recognized him as the one with the severely  decayed  arm.  The  acolyte's
eyesacks were a deep, intense blue, almost visibly  pulsing  with  blood.  His
stare was the kind Nom Anor had seen many times before-before and since he had
formed the cult. For some, belief was so  much  more  than  just  a  guide  to
living: it became life itself. That was understandable, he thought, when  they
had so little else to live for.
     "You ire among the first to receive the Message," he said, addressing the
whole room. "Your duty now is to spread it to others so that they,  too,  will
come to understand it. Some of these may  choose  to  come  here  and  receive
further instruction, themselves to become messengers. The Message will  spread
like a flood, washing our Shame away." A murmur of approval rolled around  the
gathering, punctuated by the nodding of many heads.
     "There will, of course, be those who will hear the Message but do nothing
with it," Nom Anor went on. 'They will keep it in their  hearts-secreted  away
from others as though it were some rare  spore  they  have  found.  For  these
individuals I feel nothing but pity. The Message can only be of value if it is
heard-for that, and that alone, is its purpose.  Remaining  silent  after  you
hear the Message is akin to giving approval of the way you have been  treated,
of being complicit with the enemy..." He let  the  sentence  trail  off,  then
sighed. The time had come to end the  audience.  He  had  said  everything  he
needed to say.
     "My friends, I fear for all of you. Although we have right on  our  side,
we are still fledglings who must confront hostility at  every  corner.  Should
word of our existence and identities ever reach the higher ranks,  then  every
one of us involved will be hunted down and killed. Therefore, I ask you all to
take every precaution as you spread the Message and recruit for our  cause.  A
whisper will spread, but a shout would most surely be silenced. With  patience
and perseverance, we will prevail. I ask you to go now  in  the  strength  and
knowledge that the spirit of freedom is with us!" Nom Anor  stood  and  opened
his arms, as though to embrace them all. At the signal, the doors at the  back
of the cellar opened, allowing the newly recruited acolytes to  file  out.  He
smiled beneficently as they left, radiating goodwill and trust.  It  was  very
different from how he had once dealt with underlings.
     There was a time when he  would  have  sent  them  off  with  curses  and
threats, trusting in fear to keep them loyal. But this wouldn't  work  on  the
Shamed Ones; threatening them with punishment would only demonstrate  that  he
was no different from the rest of their masters. If he had learned  one  thing
from his disguise, it was that when fear was a  way  of  life  and  there  was
nothing left to lose, the only incentive remaining was reward.
     When they were gone, he collapsed back into the throne. Go  now,  in  the
knowledge that you are the instruments of my authority, and the means by which
I shall attain the glory I deserve...
     "A good audience, Yu'shaa?" He looked up. The Shamed warrior  Kunra,  who
acted as his bodyguard  and  occasional  conscience,  had  entered  the  room,
closely followed by Nom Anor's truest believer, Shoon-mi  Esh.  Shoon-mi  wore
the robes of a priest, though without the insignia of any of the Yuu-zhan Vong
deities. Kunra wore no armor, belying the cowardice that had caused  his  fall
from grace. Knowing their true  selves,  Nom  Anor  thought  them  a  pathetic
entourage for any would-be  revolutionary;  but  he  had  to  admit  that  the
converts responded well to them.
     "Nothing special," he said in his usual rough voice. There was no need to
soliloquize with these two. "What we are gaining in quantity, we're losing  in
quality. A couple of them looked like they were about to die on  their  feet."
"I apologize, Master." Shoon-mi made fawning motions with his gnarled hands.
     "I did not feel it my place to turn anyone with need  aside."  "Soon  you
will have to, Shoon-mi." Beneath his tiredness and irritation, Nom  Anor  felt
an abiding satisfaction at the way the movement was growing. Every day brought
more penitents to their door, seeking  the  truth  of  the  Message  spreading
around Yuuzhan'tar. "Perhaps it is time to start training the Select. You have
the list?" Shoon-mi nodded vigorously, eager to  please.  "I  have  identified
seventeen who qualify." "Loyal without being blind," Nom Anor said, going over
the prerequisites for those chosen. "Quick thinkers, but not too  intelligent,
yes?" "Yes, Master." "Then  call  them  to  me."  He  glanced  around  at  his
surroundings. "The sooner the better, for I grow  weary  of  the  stench  down
here." Shoon-mi inclined his head.  "They  will  stand  before  you  tomorrow,
Master," he said, making to leave.
     Before he had gone five steps,  Nom  Anor  stopped  him.  "Shoon-mi,"  he
called. The Shamed One turned to face him. "I could not have done this without
you. I want you to know that." The highest of Nom Anor's acolytes beamed  with
pride as he scurried off to do his duty.  The  self-styled  Prophet  buried  a
flash of irritation. Although part of him wished he had killed the  fool  when
he'd had the chance, he had  to  acknowledge  Shoon-mi's  usefulness.  He  was
dedicated and resourceful, and Nom Anor felt he owed it to Shoon-mi's  sister,
Niiriit, one of the first true believers of the  Message,  not  to  kill  him.
Kunra would be sure to remind him if he tried, he was sure.
     That wasn't the most irritating thing, though. Shoon-mi's willingness  to
work for nothing but praise stuck in Nom Anor's throat like a bone.
     The ex-warrior stood in silence by the door, watching him. Nom  Anor  had
come to know Kunra well enough to realize when he had something on his mind.
     "What is it?" "You'd better see for yourself." Kunra  turned  and  walked
through the hall's main entrance and into the antechamber. From there, he  led
Nom Anor along a short corridor to the small cell in which Kunra slept. There,
immobilized by blorash jelly, lay a female dressed  in  rags.  Her  cheek  was
heavily bruised, but her eyes were open and filled with defiance.
     "She was carrying this," Kunra said, offering Nom Anor the remains  of  a
small, larva-like creature. Its leathery shell had been crushed and would have
been barely recognizable had not Nom Anor seen such things many times  before.
It was a villip.
     The female had obviously intended to bring it into the  meeting  so  that
the person on the other end could watch the Prophet in action. That in  itself
was not necessarily sinister; some of the acolytes had attempted to spread the
Message via villips before-or so they had claimed. Nora  Anor  knew,  however,
that he couldn't afford to take the chance.
     "Does Shoon-mi know?" he asked, keeping his stare fixed on the female.
     "No. I make sure to check all acolytes before they reach  him.  This  one
came alone and was out of the way before he had a chance to suspect anything."
Nom Anor nodded his approval. It made things much simpler.
     "I want the name of the  person  holding  her  master  villip,"  he  said
coldly.
     "Find out how much  she  knows  about  us  while  you're  at  it-get  the
information any way you have to.  Then  kill  her."  Kunra  didn't  argue.  "I
understand." The female started to struggle, her protests muffled by  the  gag
in her mouth.
     Nom Anor ignored her. "I shall  explain  to  Shoon-mi  that  we  have  to
relocate again." "He won't like it." He faced Kunra. "I'm sure he'd prefer  it
to dying." Without a further glance at the  prisoner,  he  turned  and  walked
away.


     Part Two Destination

     The freighter came out of nowhere from hyperspace far too close to Bakura
and going into an instant spin. Its drive units  stuttered  at  random,  which
wasn't helping the freighter's situation, while its subspace was  transmitting
nothing but static-which to Jag Pel sounded a lot like the  buzzing  of  angry
insects.
     He had spent a lot of time and effort memorizing  the  manufacturers  and
model names  of  both  Republic  and  Imperial  vessels,  but  he  was  having
difficulty identifying this one. Its distinctive asymmetric  design  suggested
something from the Corellian  Engineering  Corporation  -  possibly  somewhere
between the YT 1300 and the  YT  2400-although  he  couldn't  be  100  percent
certain. Either way, it was in poor shape, and that wasn't likely  to  improve
in a hurry.
     He would have happily ignored it had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that
whoever was flying it was coming dangerously close to where Pride  of  Selonia
was stationed. "Flights B and C, stand  by."  Jag  switched  to  a  commercial
channel.
     "Unidentified freighter, you are infringing upon our space. Change course
immediately or we will be forced to take action." More  static  was  his  only
reply.
     He swung his clawcraft away from Selonia in order to  meet  the  incoming
vessel.
     His wingmate followed, S-foils opening smoothly on her X-wing.
     "Bakura Orbital Control," he commed on local channels, "has anybody given
this freighter approval to occupy our orbit?" "Negative, Twin One,"  came  the
instant reply. "This flight is unauthorized.
     But we've certainly seen her before." "You have a  registration  listed?"
"Oh yeah. She goes by the name of Jaunty Cavalier and is owned  by  a  Wookiee
called Rufarr. In fact, I'm surprised to see him return here. He left owing me
some credits." Not your usual Wookiee, then, Jag thought  as  he  watched  the
freighter tumble toward him. And not your usual approach, either.
     "I think he's  got  more  to  worry  about  at  the  moment,"  Jag  sent.
"Requesting permission to nudge her out  of  harm's  way."  "As  long  as  you
promise not to be too gentle," Orbital Control quipped.
     "Do what you have to, Twin One," added Captain Mayn from  Selonia.  "Just
make sure she gives us a wide berth." "Jaunty Cavalier," he tried,again.  "You
have ten seconds to comply with my instructions or you  will  be  intercepted.
Please respond." Still nothing but crackling over the comm.
     "Okay, we're going in." He applied power to his  thrust-ers  and  brought
his clawcraft alongside the tumbling freighter. "Flight B, come closer and add
your shields to mine. We're going to try to give her a little  push."  Two  X-
wings and another clawcraft joined him and his wingmate.  With  half  of  Twin
Suns all working simultaneously, the freighter's heading  gradually  began  to
change, but it required a redirection of all available power to  both  engines
and shields from all ships. Jag kept a wary eye on the freighter, just in case
she tried anything.
     Five degrees would do it, he decided. That would take the freighter  well
past Selonia and clear of Bakura's atmosphere-He caught a  flash  out  of  the
corner of his eye. At that exact moment a dozen  instruments  on  his  console
spiked, and he realized that a spray of neutrinos had just washed over him.
     "Did anyone else catch that?" "Affirmative,  Twin  One,"  the  leader  of
Flight B replied. "Look at the drive units." Jag craned to look out  the  rear
of his cockpit's transparent canopy. The freighter's engines  were  stuttering
furiously now, thrust ebbing and fading in wildly erratic energy swings.
     "I don't like the look of this," he mumbled under his breath.
     The words had barely left  his  lips  when  the  drive  units  emitted  a
particularly bright flash, then died completely.
     "Break  off!"  he  called  over  the  comm.  "All   fighters,   disengage
immediately!" He was already wrenching the controls of his  clawcraft  up  and
away from the stricken freighter. "Full power to aft shields!  Put  everything
you've got between us and that thing! She's going to-" There  was  a  blinding
white flash from behind him, then something picked up his clawcraft  and  spun
it like a top around all axes. He clutched at the sides of  his  flight  seat,
hearing nothing but the scream of tortured matter over the comm.
     Then the rough ride was over, and the stars reappeared. Jag  damped  down
his spin and checked on the four other starfighters. He was relieved  to  find
them all present, if a little shaken by the experience. All that  remained  of
Jaunty Cavalier was a jagged chunk of wreckage,  possibly  a  section  of  the
forward structural chassis. The rest had been blown  to  atoms  by  the  drive
failure.
     "Bakura Orbital Control," he said solemnly into his comm.  "I  think  you
can kiss your credits good-bye." "Don't write it off just yet, Twin One," came
the voice of Captain Mayn. "We registered a launch from Jaunty  Cavalier  just
before the detonation. It  looked  like  a  small  pod  of  some  kind."  This
surprised Jag. "An escape pod? Are you sure?  I  didn't  see  anything."  "I'm
positive," Mayn returned. "It was on the opposite side of the ship  from  you,
which was probably why you didn't see it." "Heading for Bakura, you mean?" Jag
was still slightly disoriented from the shock wave, but he knew  his  up  from
his down. Every spacer did in  a  gravity  well.  "Does  it  have  thrusters?"
"They're firing, but it's not enough. Reentry will be too steep.  Want  to  go
fetch it, or should we hand it over to Bakura OC?" "Negative on that," Orbital
Control said over the open line. "We wouldn't be able to get  there  in  time.
Sorry, Twin One, but it's going  to  have  to  be  you  or  no  one  at  all."
"Understood," Jag said, silently hoping there'd be no more surprises in  store
for him.
     He sent his clawcraft swooping around the growing cloud of wreckage,  his
engines on maximum burn. The  pod  appeared  on  his  scope  a  second  later,
streaking downward. Its velocity was increasing, but it was  no  match  for  a
clawcraft at full throttle. He decelerated cautiously alongside as  it  loomed
large in his scopes. There were no obvious booby traps or triggers,  just  the
blinking of an  emergency  beacon,  bright  and  repetitive  on  the  subspace
channels.
     Jag didn't know  exactly  what  sort  of  communications  capacities  the
Corellian Engineering Corporation provided its escape capsules, but he  didn't
imagine they'd be much. Before locking on to the pod, he scanned the sub-space
channels looking for any transmissions from the  kind  of  local  comlink  the
occupant-if there was one - would probably be using. He picked up various low-
power transmissions, including just about  every  navigational  beacon  for  a
light-month, before finally lucking onto a faint voice calling stridently: - n
emergency! Someone answer me, please! I'm in need of  assistance.  Can  anyone
hear this? I'm-" "This is Colonel Jag Fel calling the occupant  of'life  pod-"
He checked the ident number visible on the stubby cylinder as it rotated  into
view. "-one-one-two-V. Can you hear this?" "Yes!" The reply was immediate  and
drenched with relief. "Yes, I can! Thank the  Balance  you  found  me!  I  was
beginning to think my escape had all been for  nothing!"  Jag  fine-tuned  his
trim preparatory to coming in closer. The voice clearly did not belong to  the
Wookiee captain of the destroyed freighter. "Want to  tell  me  what  happened
back there?" "The drive failed in midjump and I didn't know what to do to  fix
it. The navicomputer died in the energy surge following the engine failure.  I
was lucky that bucket of bolts made it as far as  she  did."  "Are  there  any
other survivors there with you?" "Just me. The crew is dead-and good  riddance
to them, as far as I'm concerned. Murderous fiends, every one  of  them!"  Jag
hesitated. "You killed them?" "Only in self-defense." The voice took on a more
commanding tone. "Look, are you here to rescue  me  or  ask  questions?"  "I'm
trying to ascertain whom I'm rescuing, that's all." And what kind  of  monster
you are, he added to himself.
     "You want to know who I am? I'm Prime Minister Cundertol, that's  who-and
I'm ordering you to pull me up this instant! After all I've been through,  I'm
not going to let some rookie pilot fumble my rescue. You  put  me  through  to
Orbital Control this instant or so help me I'll have your license faster  than
you can-" "I apologize, Prime Minister," Jag cut in, biting down on the  reply
he would have preferred  to  give.  "Bringing  you  up  now."  He  pulled  his
clawcraft in closer to the pod. Magnetic clamps  engaged,  and  he  fired  his
thrusters only slightly more roughly than was necessary to  bring  the  escape
pod out of its headlong descent into the atmosphere.  The  roar  of  thrusters
prevented further communication between Jag and his  unlikely  pillion  rider,
let alone Orbital Control. The Prime Minister was forced to ride out the  long
burn in silence, in whatever passed for acceleration  straps  among  Corellian
engineers. Although he probably had every reason to be impatient, if  his  use
of words like escape and murderers  was  any  indication  of  what  he'd  been
through, Jag wasn't going to let him off easily.
     Rookie, indeed...
     "... seven of them, four humans, two Rodians, and that  wretched  Wookiee
captain of theirs. I resisted, of course, but they took me by  surprise.  Once
they'd smuggled me out of the Bakuran Senate Complex, it was just a matter  of
getting me to the spaceport. No one stopped to question  a  group  of  traders
carrying a crate of records-and not one person thought to scan  the  crate  to
make sure it contained what they said it did." The Prime  Minister  shook  his
head gravely. "Someone's head will  roll  for  this,  mark  my  words."  Prime
Minister Cundertol was a big, solid man witt thinning blond hair  and  a  pink
hue to his skin. He held his age well, overpowering any hint of  frailty  with
bluster and exaggerated gestures. Safely recovered from the escape pod, he was
sitting on a bench outside Pride of Selonia's medical  bay.  Jag  and  Captain
Mayn sat with him. Mayn, as  tall  as  Cundertol  but  half  the  weight,  sat
opposite him, her narrow features frozen in concentration. Only Jag,  standing
to one side, could see the tic pulsing in the skin beneath her shaved scalp.
     "Go on, Prime Minister," he encouraged. "What happened next?" "They  took
me aboard their ship and knocked me out, that's what happened  next!"  Despite
his outrage, it was obvious that Cundertol was  enjoying  relating  the  tale.
"When I woke up, we were in hyperspace. I had no idea where they  were  taking
me. They'd stuck me away in an aft hold. Every now and then I would hear  them
talking, and it quickly became apparent that I wasn't in  fact  a  hostage  at
all-as I had first suspected. From the little I  could  gle.  -  in  from  the
snatches of their conversations, I was to be taken somewhere and interrogated-
then I was to be  disposed  of.  Luckily,  though,  they  hadn't  fastened  my
bindings properly, so with a bit of effort I managed to work my  hands  free."
"Did your captors say whom they were working for?" Mayn asked.
     "Not in so many words. Whenever they referred to him, it was only ever as
'the boss.' Or 'her,' of course," he added darkly.
     "Well," Mayn said, "you should be pleased to know that your  people  made
an arrest in your absence. Yesterday, Malinza Thanas was  taken  into  custody
and has been charged with conspiracy and disturbing the peace. It  looks  like
your law enforcers could add attempted murder to those charges once we get you
home and you can tell them your story." "Malinza?" For a moment, Cundertol was
nonplussed. "Charged? No, I don't believe it." "It's true," Jag said.  "Deputy
Harris announced it himself." The Prime Minister retreated into his  thoughts,
clearly stunned by the news.
     "So you freed yourself," Jag prompted after a moment. "What then?" "Huh?"
Cundertol snapped out of his musings with a questioning look in his eyes. Then
he said, "Oh, my escape. Well, eventually one of them came back  to  check  on
me. I overpowered him and took his blaster. I  left  him  trussed  up  in  the
binders they'd failed to secure on me, then I crept forward  to  confront  the
others. There were three in the main cabin. They were surprised to see  me  up
and about, as you can imagine. I confined them  to  a  corner  as  two  others
arrived from the cockpit, leaving just the pilot in control of the vessel.  It
was five against one-not good odds, even for  someone  who  trained  with  the
Special Bakuran Troops." Cundertol's chest puffed up  in  pride  at  this.  "I
demanded to be returned, but was told that nothing could  be  done  until  the
freighter had come out of its jump. I argued that they could cancel  the  jump
and turn back immediately, but they continued to prevaricate  with  ridiculous
excuses. It was obvious they were playing for time, though there was little  I
could do about it short of shooting one  of  them  to  let  them  know  I  was
serious. But then that would have made me just as  bad  as  them,  right?"  He
faced both Jag and Captain Mayn in turn, looking for approval. They nodded  in
response, but neither said anything.
     "Anyway," Cundertol continued, "we argued for a  few  minutes  until  the
Wookiee tried to jump me, and I was forced to fire upon them. I had no choice!
If I let them take me, then I was as good as dead. It was either  kill  or  be
killed. So I killed them." The Prime Minister looked down at his big hands  as
if disbelieving what they'd done. "You did what you had to do, sir," Jag  said
after a moment. "No one can  blame  you  for  that."  Jag's  reassuring  words
received a vague nod in reply, but it wasn't convincing. "I didn't kill all of
them, of course," Cundertol said. "Just the five who attacked me. The one  I'd
trussed up, he was still in the hold, and the pilot had stayed in the  cockpit
until the fighting was over. I tied him up, too, when he refused to  do  as  I
told him. From there it was just a matter  of  turning  the  ship  around  and
coming home. All would have gone well had the wreck  not  developed  a  raging
case of system rot and fallen apart on me. When it came time to ditch it,  the
life support had failed in the  aft  holds,  killing  the  two  I'd  tied  up-
otherwise I would've brought them with  me  to  stand  trir.l.  They  got  off
lightly, in the end. Death was too good  for  them-far  too  good."  Cundertol
ground his teeth as if in frustration. He was clearly bitter,  and  rightfully
so as far as Jag was concerned.
     From the entrance to the bay,  Selonia's  chief  meditech  was  listening
closely to the tale. When it became  apparent  that  the  Prime  Minister  had
finished, she stepped forward and said, "Are you sure you're not hurt, sir? We
really should examine you to  see-"  "I'm  fine,"  he  interrupted,  irritably
waving her off. "It takes more than a scuffle to put me  down."  The  meditech
backed away with a bony shrug.
     "Have you found any evidence in the wreckage?" Cundertol asked Mayn.
     "None, I'm afraid. There was very little left of the  craft."  "That's  a
shame," he muttered. "Because I want whoever was behind this to pay dearly. If
the Keeramak has been deterred by my kidnapping-or, worse, the consecration is
canceled entirely-then I don't know where that will leave us. We can't  afford
tension with the P'w'eck. Not with the Yuuzhan Vong approaching  us  from  the
other side. Our defense fleet is stretched as it  is  without  adding  to  our
enemies." "Do you know where your kidnappers  were  taking  you?"  Jag  asked.
"Because if we knew that then we might-" "I'm sorry,  young  man,"  the  Prime
Minister said brusquely, "but you must appreciate that I  had  more  important
things to worry about at the time-such as staying alive.  I  didn't  have  the
luxury of sitting them down and interrogating them, as you seem to be doing to
me right now!" Jag felt himself flush at the accusation. "Sir, I  never  meant
in any way to-" Cundertol cut off the  apology  with  a  grunt.  "When's  that
shuttle coming?" he demanded, glancing athis chronometer.
     "Soon, Prime Minister," Mayn said pleasantly. "General  Panib  is  giving
you a full military escort to avoid any further attempts on your life. In  the
meantime, you're safest here, with us." "Better  safe  than  sorry,  eh?"  The
Prime Minister sniffed as he looked around at the  cramped  corridors  of  the
frigate. "I'm just glad to be alive." Something about the way Cundertol  spoke
those words told Jag that, perhaps for the first time since he'd been rescued,
he was telling the whole truth.
     The Millennium Falcon, with Jaina flying as escort, had left orbit barely
an hour before the appearance of Jaunty Cavalier,  heading  planetside  for  a
formal meeting with the  Senate.  The  news  of  Cundertol's  rescue  and  the
destruction of the freighter  came  as  they  landed  safely  at  Salis  D'aar
spaceport. Tahiri watched over Han's and Leia's shoulders as Jaina climbed out
of her starfighter to inspect security before anyone  else  disembarked.  Leia
frowned. "You're saying he single-handedly overpowered a crew of seven?
     That's certainly not the Senator Cundertol I remember."  "I'm  skeptical,
too," Jag said from orbit. "But I suppose it's not completely impossible. He's
fit, and he had the element of surprise. One thing that really bothers  me  is
that he did it without taking any cuts or bruises." "You're sure about  that?"
Leia asked.
     "I'm telling you, I stood right beside him as  he  told  his  story,  and
there wasn't a scratch on the  man.  Ever  known  anyone  to  come  out  of  a
fistfight without so much as a fat lip or  a  grazed  knuckle?"  "He's  got  a
point," Han said. His posture indicated that he was devoting at least as  much
attention to Jaina's gesticulating at local security forces outside as he  was
to Jag. "But have you got anything else? Anything substantial?"  "Nothing.  He
refused a medical exam." "Todra's chief medico is a Duros, though, right?  And
if I recall,  Cundertol  is  pro-human  through  and  through,  right,  Leia?"
"Definitely more than just a hint of Empire, Jag," Leia confirmed.  "He  could
have simply wanted to avoid contact with an alien." "Yet he signs an  alliance
with the P'w'eck?" "He'd sign an alliance with an arachnor if  he  thought  it
politically expedient," Leia said.
     Jag was silent for a second, then added, "This might  not  mean  anything
either, then, but Cundertol was as surprised about Malinza Thanas's arrest  as
you were." "That it was her, or that they'd caught her?" "I can't be positive,
but I think the former." "Well,  Harris  certainly  seemed  convinced  of  her
guilt." "It's possible my paranoia and suspicions are just getting the  better
of me," Jag conceded. "But one thing I am sure of: Cundertol  certainly  isn't
someone I'd want to spend any more time with than I have to. I was quite happy
to leave him with Captain Mayn until the Bakuran escort arrived. They've  just
left, so I'm happy to report he'll be all yours real soon." Outside the  ship,
Jaina made a great show of exasperation, then turned and headed to the Falcon,
signing a surreptitious all clear as she came. Keeping  the  locals  on  their
toes, Tahiri imagined.
     "Okay, then," Han said as he brought the ship's systems one by  one  off-
line. "Apart from the fact that you're suspicious of the  Prime  Minister,  do
you have anything more substantial to add?" "I guess not."  "And  everything's
under control up there now?" "The wreckage has  been  cleared  and  our  orbit
corridor is clear." "Good. Call us if anything else comes up. I think  there's
a meet-and-greet finally calling our name." Han killed the comlink and  turned
to face his wife, who was shaking her head." "What?" he asked, brow  furrowed.
"I just find it amusing that someone who has navigated through his entire life
on hunches could be so critical of someone else's." Han  pulled  an  indignant
face. "Hey, I listened to what he had to say. It's just that I didn't think he
gave us anything solid to go on, that's  all."  "Is  that  the  only  reason?"
Tahiri couldn't see Leia's expression, but she imagined  the  Princess  to  be
smiling. "Or could it be that you're feeling a little put out at the  idea  of
Jaina having a boyfriend whose instincts are as sharp as yours?" Han performed
a double take that would have been  amusing  to  watch  had  not  Tahiri  been
acutely aware that she was listening in on a personal conversation.
     "I'm going to leave the two of you to talk," Tahiri said,  climbing  from
her seat. As she stepped from the cockpit, she heard the two start  up  again.
As usual, there was no real malice in their argument. Beneath the words Tahiri
could always detect the affection that the two obviously held for each other.
     Outside the Falcon, the air was heavy with moisture and  pollen.  It  was
about midmorning, local time, an4 the temperature was rising. Within a minute,
Tahiri could feel herself beginning to  sweat,  so  she  called  on  her  Jedi
training to regulate her temperature. The last thing she wanted to present  to
any officials she met was a sweaty palm-either metaphorically or literally.  A
few minutes later, Han and Leia also emerged from the Falcon  Judging  by  the
way the Princess was walking ahead of her husband and shaking her head, Tahiri
guessed th.jir friendly squabble was still taking place.
     "At least he's got good taste," she heard Han say to Leia as they reached
the base of the freighter's landing ramp. Any response Leia might have had  to
this went unheard, however, because at that moment Jaina stepped over to greet
her mother and father.
     They exchanged a few words together, but the combination of the  distance
and their hushed voices made it impossible for Tahiri to hear what  was  being
said-although she presumed it to be about the current situation as  Jaina  saw
it.
     Whatever, it was clearly something they didn't  feel  concerned  her,  so
Tahiri decided not to intrude upon the discussion.
     Instead, she checked out the docking bay they'd been assigned. Apart from
the Falcon and Jaina's X-wing, it was completely  empty-as  requested  by  the
Princess-and  had  only  the  one  exit  in  the  far  corner.   Through   the
transparisteel door of this exit, Tahiri could make out a small collection  of
dignitaries and guards. For  some  reason,  the  sight  of  their  drab  green
uniforms all in a row made her feel uncomfortable, and one of the three  scars
on her temple began to itch. When she caught herself  scratching  at  it,  she
quickly stopped, self-consciously lowering her hand and placing it behind  her
back. She still didn't know why this happened, but it  bothered  her  that  it
did. It brought back memories; brought back dreams...
     She  turned  away  from  the  sight  of  the   dignitaries   beyond   the
transparisteel doors,  and  as  she  did  so  caught  sight  of  a  technician
approaching the Millennium Falcon, a long black cable clutched in one hand. He
was moving furtively, coming up behind where Jaina and her parents  stood.  At
least Tahiri assumed it was a "he."  The  oversuit  that  the  tech  wore  was
designed to protect its wearer from hostile environments, and as such was  too
heavy and bulky to reveal the being's gender or even species.
     She knew that Han hadn't authorized any maintenance  on  his  ship  while
they were docked, though, so she stepped forward to intercept the tech  before
he could get any closer. "Hey!" she called. "You're not supposed to be  here!"
The suited figure hesitated, - then changed direction to head  toward  Tahiri.
She  stopped  in  her  tracks,  the  grip  on  her  lightsaber   instinctively
tightening.
     "Hold it right there," she warned.
     "I bring a message," the figure said. The voice issuing from  inside  his
helmet was distorted like a stormtrooper's.
     Tahiri's brow creased with suspicion. "What kind of message? And who's it
for?""Han Solo," the technician said. "I need  to  tell  him  to  be  careful.
Things here are not as  they  seem."  "Things  rarely  are  these  days,"  she
returned. Her grip on the lightsaber eased slightly. The precise form  of  the
person inside the suit was hidden, but her instincts were clear.
     "You're a Ryn, aren't you?" The figure seemed slightly taken aback.  "How
did you-?" "I met one of you on Galantos," she explained. More confident  now,
she took another two steps forward. "He was the  one  who  suggested  we  come
here, actually. He told us that-" She stopped in midsentence when  the  helmet
shook. "Now is not the time," the Ryn said, glancing around. "I shall  contact
you again later. For now, though, please pass on my message to Captain  Solo."
Tahiri nodded. "Okay, but you're not really telling  him  anything  new.  He's
always careful, and I think he's already guessed  that  something  strange  is
going on here." The Ryn didn't seem to be  listening.  He  glanced  around  as
though fearful he might be seen talking to her out in the open.
     "I must go," he said. "You've been allocated quarters should you wish  to
stay longer than today. I urge you to take them. You'll  find  what  you  need
there." Without another word, the Ryn turned and made his  way  back  the  way
he'd come. Tahiri  stood  watching  him.  She  was  finding  herself  becoming
increasingly intrigued by the Ryn and their guarded hints.
     "Trouble, Tahiri?" She jumped at Han's voice so close  to  her  shoulder.
She shook her head, conscious of the security  guards  watching  them  closely
from the edge of the landing field.
     Han glowered at the Ryn's retreating back. "There'd better  not  be,"  he
said.
     "What did he say, anyway?"  Tahiri  lowered  her  voice.  "That  was  our
contact. The Ryn. He said to tell you that things here aren't what they seem."
Han rolled his eyes. "When are they ever?" Tahiri  smiled  nervously.  "That's
just what I said." "Anything else?" She repeated what the  Ryn  had  told  her
about accepting an offer of accommodation.
     Han nodded, casting one final glance at the Ryn as if tempted  to  follow
him.
     "Okay." He put an arm about her shoulder and guided her back to where the
others stood waiting. "It's nothing," he called to them. "Let's  get  on  with
it." Jaina gave Tahiri a penetrating once-over as she joined  the  group,  but
nothing further was said. Together they walked to where  the  security  guards
awaited them. As the uniformed guards surrounded them to escort  them  through
the doors, Tahiri found herself filled with misgivings. It  felt  like  they'd
done all this before...
     The harsh white of reflected sunlight belied the cold  heart  of  Csilla.
The briefest orbital scan of the icebound world revealed  dozens  of  glaciers
around the equator, as well as solid ice shelves that covered vast expanses of
the planet. It made other frozen worlds like Hoth look positively temperate.
     And yet, incredibly, it was inhabited. Huge  cities  skated  the  glacial
fields like Mon Calamari water skimmers, riding the near-geologic flow of  the
ice; others buried themselves deep under the cold, tunneling into  bedrock  in
search of geothermal warmth far below.
     "Chilly," Jacen said, staring in muted awe out at the swarms of clawcraft
that silently flanked Jade Shadow as she arrived in orbit. Images of the Chiss
home planet had previously been nonexistent. Luke and Mara's  last  expedition
to Chiss space, years earlier, had taken them nowhere near the  heart  of  the
alien empire.
     "You talking about the planet or this reception?" Danni asked.
     Jacen smiled at the quip. "You'd think with the pick of any of the worlds
in the Unknown Regions that they'd have chosen one a bit more  agreeable  than
this one. I mean, why stay here when there are so many warmer climates nearby?
" "Sheer obstinacy," Mara answered from her position in Jade Shadow's  pilot's
seat. "You've seen how Jag and his pilots operate. Well, multiply that by  ten
and you might come up with something that approximates your average Chiss.
     Remember,  Vanguard  Squadron  represents  the  imaginative,  risk-taking
extreme. The everyday stubbornness you'll find on Csilla would even  make  the
Hutts look accommodating." A brisk voice advised the incoming delegation  from
the Galactic Alliance of their allotted orbit. "You will not deviate from this
vector," they were warned, "unless instructed to do so." "We understand," Mara
replied, unable to hold the irritation from her voice.
     "But is there someone who can-"Commander Irolia is the  intermediary  you
have been allocated. She will attend you on this  frequency  and  address  any
queries or concerns you may have at this time." With that, the line went dead.
     "Looks like our friend Commander Irolia beat us here," Mara said.
     "Well, at least it'll be a familiar voice," Jacen said.
     "Ask for her," Luke said from the navigator's chair. "Tell  her  we  want
permission to send a landing party."  "Are  you  sure  that's  a  good  idea?"
"Which: landing or asking?" Luke smiled fleetingly. Then, soberly, he added, "
Listen, Mara, if it's not safe to deal with the Chiss now, with  Imperials  on
our side, I fear it never will be." Mara acquiesced without  further  comment,
and Jacen leaned back in his seat to listen to the conversation. It was brief,
as expected. Irolia replied to Mara's request with a briskness suggesting that
she had anticipated it days ago. She gave them a window and uploaded a reentry
corridor to R2-D2's navigation banks.
     The stubby droid whistled to indicate that he'd received it, and that was
that.
     "Do you require  the  shuttle?"  Captain  Yage  asked  over  the  command
frequency. "I think we'll take Shadow down this time,"  Luke  said.  "Instruct
Hegerty to gear up and-" "Actually, Soron Hegerty won't be going along on this
trip," Yage cut in. "The incident on Munlali Mafir proved a  little  too  much
for the doctor. She's opted to stay aboard and sit this one out, if that's all
right." Jacen could see his uncle's  disappointment.  Since  leaving  on  this
mission, the doctor and Lieutenant Stalgis had assisted Luke and his party  on
a number of occasions. His uncle  was  thankful  for  this,  as  it  reflected
cooperation between the Empire and the Galactic Federation of Free  Alliances-
and the more this could be seen happening, the easier it would be to sway  the
cynics in the Alliance.
     Her decision to sit this mission out would no doubt  start  rumors  among
those cynics.
     "Okay," he said, nodding. "Can you  organize  us  a  ground  party?  That
window's in an hour, so we'll need to move  quickly."  "Testing  our  mettle,"
Yage said, almost audibly grinding her teeth. "We're more  than  a  match  for
that trumped-up power princess." Luke smiled at his wife as  Yage  closed  the
line. "I think Irolia might have won  herself  an  enemy."  "Not  hard,"  Mara
agreed. "After all, the  commander  isn't  particularly  trying  to  make  any
friends." A thought struck Jacen then. "Do you think she's  been  sent  to  us
deliberately?" Luke turned in his seat. "To see how we'll react?"  He  thought
for a moment.
     "Could be that someone much higher up than Irolia is testing us."  "Don't
worry," Mara said. "Arien is right. We're more  than  ready  for  the  Chiss."
"I've no doubt about that," Luke said. He faced the front again.  "  But  it's
not Chiss I'm worried about." Jade Shadow came in low over the western arm  of
what would have been a crescent-shaped continent on a more  temperate  planet.
Deep-surface radar revealed scoured rock  two  kilometers  down,  buckled  and
split by the weight of the ice above. Melt channels  and  refreezing  fissures
had created a fiendishly complicated network of caves and  tunnels  throughout
the ice, and it was in these tunnels that the Chiss  had  built  the  city  of
Ac'siel.
     Above the ice shelf, all that was visible  was  an  equilateral  triangle
consisting of three craterous spaceports linked bv lines of towers that  could
have been massive observation antenna and weapons installations.
     Or perhaps, Jacen thought, just there to intimidate.
     The wind howled like a lovelorn wampa, tearing at the hull of Jade Shadow
as Mara brought her down to the spaceport they'd  been  allocated.  Her  hands
moved deftly over the controls, guiding the ship with natural ease.
     Back in the passenger bay, Jacen waited with  the  rest  of  the  landing
party. Outside, heat differentials whipped the storms into a fury, creating an
illusion of dynamic processes that might eventually lead to life, but the  ice
always won out in the end. Where water froze, only the meanest organisms could
evolve, and only the toughest survive. The Chiss clearly fit into  the  latter
category, clinging to their world tooth and claw, no matter how much it  tried
to freeze them out.
     Danni followed Jacen to the air lock when they had touched down.
     "Ready when you are," she said as the air lock hissed open.
     Together, they stepped outside.
     He had expected to find himself in  the  middle  of  an  icy  storm,  but
instead the air was warm and still. They had landed inside a large docking bay
that was sealed against the elements by a flickering force field  high  above.
The ferrocrete platform beneath his feet was clean and dry, and sloped down to
where a small welcoming party waited  for  them.  Seven  officers  dressed  in
purple-and-black uniforms stood to attention, their blue  skins  looking  like
marble under the arc lights. Jacen couldn't tell if Commander Irolia  was  one
of them, but he offered a small wave of acknowledgment anyway.  There  was  no
response.
     "Nothing untoward," he sent to Mara and Luke via comlink.
     Moments later they joined him and Danni outside Jade  Shadow.  Luke  came
first, followed by Lieutenant Stalgis and Mara. A  second  stormtrooper  would
stay with Jade Shadow, along with Tekli and Saba. The air lock  sealed  behind
them.
     There was a brief pause during which nothing happened. They simply  stood
awkwardly by the air lock, waiting.
     "You know, I expected the Chiss to be more punctual," Luke said.
     Jacen caught the wink that his uncle sent Mara. "Perhaps we  caught  them
with their pants down," he put in.
     At that moment the formation  of  guards  dissolved.  Two  people  walked
through the entrance behind them and up the ramp  to  where  Jade  Shadow  had
settled. One of them was Commander Irolia, her expression  as  steely  as  her
hair was black.
     The other was a human-a solid,  muscular  man  of  about  Luke's  height.
Completely bald, he had a thin mouth, deep-set eyes, and a nose  large  enough
to rival a Toydarian's. When he spoke, he made no pretense of welcome.
     "I am Chief Navigator Peita Aabe," he said, his voice  as  sharp  as  the
creases in his uniform. He came to a halt before them, his cold gaze  touching
each of them in turn. "We have made arrangements for  you  to  meet  with  the
necessary authorities." "Wouldn't you like to know who we are?" Luke asked.
     Aabe's attention settled on the  Jedi  Master  with  an  expression  that
suggested he was making the best of a bad situation.  "That  isn't  necessary.
Commander Irolia has ensured that we have the  relevant  information.  If  you
will come this way." Aabe turned to lead them across the docking bay.
     "Wait a second," Mara said. "I'd like to  know  more  about  you,  first.
You're human." He didn't attempt to hide his annoyance  as  he  swung  around.
"And that troubles you?" "No, of course not. It's just that apart from Admiral
Parck and Soontir Fel, I wasn't aware that any others had joined  the  Chiss."
"Many would have, but few were accepted." Aabe's frosty facade  melted  for  a
moment, allowing a glimpse of burning pride beneath. "I serve Assistant Syndic
Fel in his absence. My origins are not important."  He  turned  and  continued
down the ramp. Irolia waited to ensure that they followed, then did the same.
     Assistant Syndic Fel? Jacen thought as they followed the  Chiss  officer.
The Baron must have been promoted. Whether that was a good thing,  though,  he
couldn't decide.
     "A cheery lot, aren't they?" Danni mumbled as they walked.
     "Be that as it may," Jacen replied, "I'd sooner deal with them  than  the
Krizlaws, any day." As they passed through the exit from the docking area, the
seven guards standing there fell in line behind them.
     "Where are we going?" Mara asked.
     "I have already told you," Aabe said gruffly.
     "You told us that we were going to meet the 'necessary authorities,'  but
you haven't told us who they are or where we're being taken to meet with them.
" Aabe strode a  few  more  paces  before  speaking  again.  "Is  that  really
important at this time?" Mara rolled her eyes at Luke,  clearly  annoyed  with
the evasive responses. "You tell me: is it?" Surprisingly, it was  Irolia  who
answered Mara's initial question.
     "You are being taken to meet representatives of  the  Four  Families  and
Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet." Mara half turned to face the woman as  they
walked.
     "There we will discuss the role the Chiss will  play  in  your  mission."
"You work for the Nuruodo family," Mara said.  "That's  military  and  foreign
affairs, right?" Irolia didn't answer. She didn't need to.  The  Chiss  didn't
give anything away, but the broad structure of  their  government  was  common
knowledge. Jacen knew that four families dominated  public  affairs:  Nuruodo,
Csapla, Inrokini, and  Sabosen.  The  Csapla  oversaw  resource  distribution,
agriculture, and other colonial affairs; industry, science, and communications
were the concern of the Inrokini; the Sabosen ensured  that  justice,  health,
and education services were maintained equitably across the colonies.
     "Which of the families do  you  work  for,  Chief  Navigator  Aabe?"Jacen
asked.
     "I work for none of them," their stiff-backed guide said without so  much
as a glance in Jacen's direction. "I am employed by  the  CEDE  The  fleet  is
always in need of those with experience outside  the  inhabited  territories."
"Incursions from  the  Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium  and  the  Yuu-zhan  Vong,"  Irolia
explained, "plus our experience with Grand  Admiral  Thrawn,  taught  us  that
insularity could be a weakness as well as a strength. It's not  enough  to  be
strong; a truly successful culture needs to be flexible as well. And in  order
to be flexible, we must look beyond what we consider familiar; we must come to
know our neighbors as well as we know ourselves." "Most governments would open
diplomatic ties," Mara said. "Either that or just send in spies."  "Those  are
methods we have certainly tried, and indeed to an extent still  employ.  After
all, we are talking to you now, are we  not?"  Her  smile  flickered  briefly.
"However, sometimes we find that integration is the optimal way to achieve our
goals. Your former Emperor accepted  Thrawn  as  an  ally  because  he  was  a
brilliant strategist, despite his nonhuman origins; so, too, are  we  prepared
to accept non-Chiss into our fold." "Would you accept a Ssi-ruu into the fold?
Or perhaps a Yuuzhan Vong?" Irolia didn't miss a step. She regarded Luke,  who
had offered the challenge, with not the slightest change in expression.
     "If they were exceptionally talented and trustworthy,"  she  said,  "then
yes, of course." Jacen was unsettled by the response, and he sensed the others
were, too. It wasn't hard to understand. The pain of loss was still  fresh  in
the hearts and minds of everyone around him. Lieutenant Stalgis had lost  many
troopers and friends  on  Bastion;  Danni  had  seen  her  colleagues  die  on
Belkadan, right at the start of the war, and had probably seen more death  and
mayhem as a result of the Yuuzhan Vong than anyone Jacen knew; Mara had almost
lost her infant son Ben  on  Coruscant;  and  Jacen  himself  still  felt  the
terrible absence of his brother Anakin in his heart.
     His uncle's feelings were kept carefully hidden, and Jacen wondered  what
he was thinking. Intellectually he knew that at some point loss had to be  put
aside to make room for hope. Clinging to the past only made  the  future  that
much harder to achieve; and it was only in the future, ultimately, that  peace
lay.
     With Irolia's comment having effectively killed any  further  discussion,
the  party  continued  along  in  gloomy  silence.  In  the  absence  of   any
conversation, Jacen studied their surroundings, his curiosity  piqued  by  the
strange translucent substance that made up the walls. It appeared to  be  ice,
but when he reached out to touch it he found it warm and dry. Visible  in  the
substance every meter or so was a frame of silver metal that seemed to  define
the boxlike corridors, each possessing a green light that flickered on as they
approached and then switched off after they had passed.  At  first  glance  he
could see no discernible reason for the frames' existence, although he had  no
doubt that they performed some function. The Chiss didn't seem  the  types  to
enjoy decoration for its own sake.
     Danni noticed his interest. "Field generators," she whispered.
     He frowned, momentarily puzzled. Field generators? Why should  they  need
field generators to hold their corridors  together?  Surely  the  power  drain
would outweigh any possible security benefit.
     Then it hit him: the walls really were made of ice. The field  generators
provided a boundary between the bubble of warm air in which  they  walked  and
the slippery surface beneath their feet. They also kept the cold at  bay,  and
stopped the ice from melting. The generators switched on  as  they  approached
then switched off as they passed, meaning that the power drain  on  each  unit
was minimized. Overall, the cost would be much less than sealing  and  heating
every  single  cubic  meter  of  the  tunnels-especially  when  the  cost   of
manufacturing and laying insulated materials around the tunnels  was  factored
in.
     It was an elegant solution to a tricky problem-particularly in areas that
weren't frequently traveled. Jacen was impressed.
     Eventually they came to an area that was insulated and sealed  with  more
conventional materials. His ears popped as they passed the last of  the  field
generators and the heated bubble dissolved around  him.  A  smell  of  flowers
struck him, and he found himself in a wide, tiered space that was  thick  with
vegetation. The ceiling hung at least twenty meters above, with a bright  tube
that ran its length, lighting  the  area.  The  atmosphere  was  peaceful  and
serene, and Jacen's first impression was that  it  was  a  residential  space-
perhaps an underground park for the public. However,  he  soon  dismissed  the
idea when he realized that, apart from  themselves,  there  was  no  one  else
present. For that matter, he hadn't seen anyone other than their escort  since
they'd arrived at Ac'siel. All the  corridors  they'd  walked  down  had  been
empty.
     Whatever the reason for this was, he didn't have time to ponder it. Chief
Navigator Aabe had led them to one of three doors  on  the  far  side  of  the
gardenlike area and was now impatiently trying to hurry  them  through.  Jacen
and the others complied, filing into a  relatively  small  and  circular  room
containing a dozen black chairs set around  an  equally  circular  table.  The
walls, floor, and ceiling were black also, while  tiny  globes  floating  high
above stabbed beams of light through the room's shadows to give prominence  to
the chairs around the table below. On the far side of  the  chamber,  opposite
where they'd entered, was another door.
     Taking the seat nearest to him, Aabe indicated  for  the  others  to  sit
also.
     They did so, occupying a semicircle of  chairs  opposite  him-all  except
Stalgis, that is, who opted to remain at the door with  Irolia.  Guarding  the
guard, perhaps, Jacen thought.
     The door behind Aabe slid open without a sound, and four figures  entered
the room. Their faces were hidden by hoods, and  each  of  their  head-to-foot
robes was a different color-bronze, rust-red, silver-gray,  and  copper-green.
Without a word, they took seats  at  seemingly  random  positions  around  the
circle, spreading themselves out on either side of Aabe.
     An awkward silence followed, only broken when Mara asked, "So, do we find
but now who we're talking to?" "No," said the hooded figure in bronze-a  woman
with a rich contralto voice.
     "Just as our families are defined by their function in society, so are we
defined by our roles as representatives of those families. We are here  before
you not as people, but as the beginning and end points  of  a  decision-making
process." "No names?" Mara asked, not attempting to hide her annoyance.
     "No names," agreed the green-robed figure. This one was a male-and  young
by the sound of his voice.
     "But you know who we are." "As is our right," Bronze said. "After all, it
is you who come to us for help.
     You do not need to know who acts on behalf of  the  Chiss.  We  represent
everyone." "You must tell us what it is you want," said the  figure  in  rust-
red.
     Gray nodded in agreement. "Then we can give you our decision." "We do not
decide lightly," Copper-green added.
     "But our decision will be final," Bronze  concluded.  "Do  you  agree  to
these conditions?" "What if we don't?" Mara asked, resting back  in  her  seat
and folding her arms defiantly across her chest.
     "Then you will be asked to leave," Aabe said. His tone left no doubt that
asked to leave was a euphemism.
     "Our request is simple," Luke said, heading off a protest from Mara.  "We
are looking for the living planet, Zonama Sekot. We  have  reason  to  believe
that it might be hiding in what we refer to as the  Unknown  Regions.  As  the
major power in these regions, you have every right to  question  our  presence
here. It is my hope that you will assist us-either passively, by permitting us
to cross your borders unhindered, or actively, by allowing us  access  to  any
information you have on the subject." "That  is  all?"  Gray  asked,  possibly
surprised by the simplicity of the request.
     Luke nodded. "That is all." "And what have you achieved in your quest  so
far?" Bronze asked.
     Luke explained where their mission had taken them, outlining the numerous
systems they'd surveyed on the inner edge of the Unknown Regions, the  various
civilizations they had briefly touched upon, the hints of  Zonama  Sekot  they
had received. Invariably the clues came to them in the form of a story told by
grandparents, or a dimly recalled memory. Their efforts had been frustrated by
the absence of solid evidence. Since  the  planet  had  a  tendency  to  avoid
systems containing any sort of advanced civilization,  there  were  no  actual
physical records to prove that it had ever really been anywhere. It was as  if
they were chasing a ghost that had vanished decades ago.
     "And yet despite this, you seem confident of success," Copper-green said.
     "We would not have taken on the mission in the first  place  had  we  not
believed it achievable," Luke said. "And we will do what we must to ensure its
success." "And why must you do this, exactly?" Rust, the second woman  of  the
four, sounded genuinely puzzled. "Commander Irolia is uncertain on this point.
     Although  she  believes  that  you  are  trustworthy,  your  goal   seems
incredible and your motives  are  obscure.  You  cannot  blame  us  for  being
cautious." Luke sighed. "No, I cannot. And if I were you,  I  would  be  wary,
too. I can only say that we are willing to take any steps you require in order
to demonstrate our veracity in this matter." "Except discontinue your  quest,"
Gray said.
     "Except that, yes. We will continue to search for Zonama Sekot,  with  or
without your help." There was a moment's silence in which  Jacen  sensed  that
the Chiss representatives were conferring behind their hoods, but he  couldn't
read  exactly  what  it  was  they  were  saying.  Strong-willed  people  were
notoriously hard to read, and the Chiss were about as strong-willed as a  race
could be.
     "What of this new Alliance of yours?" Bronze asked. "Are we  required  to
join it?" "No," Luke said. "Although the fact  that  we  have  common  enemies
suggest that there might be advantages in doing so, someday."  "Indeed,  there
might be," Rust said, nodding slowly.
     "On the matter of your presence within our borders,"  Copper-green  said,
"it is an issue upon which we find ourselves somewhat divided."  "Two  of  our
number are willing to allow you free access to Chiss territories," Gray  said,
"on the grounds that there is little you will find here that either we do  not
already know or will do us harm." "If Zonama Sekot truly  existed  within  our
borders," Bronze added, "we would surely know about it already." "On the other
hand," Copper-green said, "the vagueness of your motives calls  into  question
the true purpose of your mission. It can be argued that the  issue  of  Zonama
Sekot is a cover for something more sinister." "While it is true," Rust  said,
"that we have as yet seen no evidence of hostile intent, your  presumption  to
come here without first asking questions is arrogance of the first  order  and
should not be encouraged." "So we find ourselves at an impasse," Bronze said.
     "A tie," Copper-green said.
     Gray inclined his head. "This is not an  uncommon  situation,  given  the
diversity of  our  needs."  "As  in  all  such  situations,  we  turn  to  the
Expansionary Defense Fleet to cast the deciding  vote."  Rust  turned  to  her
left. "Chief Navigator Aabe?" Jacen inwardly groaned. There was  no  way  Aahe
was going to vote in their favor.
     The ex-Imperial looked superciliously down  his  nose  at  Luke  and  the
others seated before him. "The case seems quite clear to  me,"  he  said.  "We
cannot allow intruders to travel unchecked through  our  territory,  for  that
would betray  the  trust  of  the  Chiss  people.  There  have  been  numerous
incursions of late by the Yuuzhan Vong, and any  relaxation  of  security  now
will only encourage such problems  to  go  unnoticed.  From  the  position  of
internal as well as external security, I advise that we do not give permission
for this expedition to freely wander Chiss space." Both Luke  and  Mara  moved
simultaneously, as though each was about to protest the decision.
     "However," Aabe went on, raising a hand to cut off whatever it was they'd
been about to say, "I am reasonably certain that  the  Skywalkers'  intentions
are honorable, and it is not in the Chiss nature to turn away those  genuinely
in need. Therefore, in the interest of  good  relations,  and  the  hope  that
something may actually  come  of  this  quest,  I  would  like  to  suggest  a
compromise. The thing the Skywalkers need  more  than  freedom  of  access  is
information. No single mission could cover the entire  Unknown  Regions  in  a
practical amount of time, even with the records of the Imperial Remnant  as  a
guide. I propose that the Skywalkers and their allies be given full access  to
the Expeditionary Library here on Csilla, in order  that  they  might  conduct
their search in safety." Mara sank  uncertainly  into  her  seat,  while  Luke
beside her could only lift his eyebrows in surprise. Jacen had to  admit  that
Aabe's suggestion did make a kind of sense - although exactly for whom it  was
"safer" remained unclear. Was the chief navigator referring to  the  crews  of
Jade Shadow and Widowmaker, or was he  implying  that  Chiss  space  would  be
better off without these ships roaming through it? Either way,  Jacen  was  as
surprised as his uncle that the ex-Imperial officer had actually suggested  it
at all.
     "There is one condition," Aabe said.
     Ah, Jacen thought. Here comes the catch.
     "I would not want the Galactic Federation of Free  Alliances  to  mistake
our intentions," Aabe continued. "This offer should be  open  for  a  strictly
limited period. If the Skywalkers and their companions  have  failed  to  find
what they require within that time, then the offer will be rescinded and  they
will be required to immediately leave Chiss space." "How  long  do  you  think
will be necessary?" Copper-green asked.
     "Two standard days should be sufficient," Aabe replied. "After  all,  how
hard can it be to search for a  living  planet  that  appears  and  disappears
across the galaxy? There are only so many  legends  one  can  trace,  and  our
library is  second  to  none."  The  four  robed  figures  nodded  in  unified
agreement. "We regard this as an acceptable compromise," Bronze said.  "Master
Skywalker?" Luke straightened his shoulders and rose to his  feet.  "I  accept
the terms of your offer." Jacen sensed Mara begging to differ,  but  outwardly
she agreed.


     "Then you are free to begin whenever you wish," Bronze said.
     All four representatives rose from their seats in unison, but it was Gray
who spoke. "A guide from the Inrokini family will be assigned to instruct  you
on the use of the  library.  If  you  are  ready,  Chief  Navigator  Aabe  and
Commander Irolia will take you there now." "Thank you," Luke said, bowing.
     "That concludes our business," Rust said. Without another word,  she  and
the others turned and walked from the room.
     "That's it?" Mara said, watching their backs disappear  through  the  far
door.
     "What more do you want?" Aabe asked. "We have been generous with our time
and we will continue to be generous with our resources. There is no obligation
to help you hanging over our head. You should be-" He stopped  and  shook  his
head. " I was about to say grateful, but that would be incorrect. Gratitude is
an emotional response not necessarily contingent on what has been offered.
     Appropriately honored might be closer to what I meant to say." "We  are,"
Luke said. "And we are also keen to  start  work  as  soon  as  possible."  He
indicated the door. "May we?" Aabe nodded as he made  for  the  door,  saying,
"I'm glad to see at least one of you appreciates the way of  the  Chiss."  The
doors opened into the gardenlike hall, and  Irolia  and  Aabe  led  the  party
through. They had barely traveled half the hall's length when  a  tall  figure
stepped out of a small niche to intercept the group. Broad-shouldered  and  as
solid as a wall, he stood in front of them as though daring them to try to get
past him. A black patch covered one eye, matching his uniform;  iron  streaked
his black hair and goatee.
     "Mara Jade," he said. "We meet again." She moved  forward  a  step  while
Jacen and the others stopped.
     "That's Mara Jade Sky walker, Soontir Fel," she replied.
     Fel nodded in acknowledgment but made no effort to correct himself.
     "Chief Navigator Aabe had led us to believe that  you  were  'absent,'  "
Mara commented.
     "That is patently not the case." "So were you just avoiding us  earlier?"
"Avoiding the decision-making process, yes."  Fel's  voice  was  gravelly  but
strong. Jacen could see where Jagged Pel inherited his father's  presence,  if
not his width. "My thoughts are not unclouded by emotions over this  issue.  I
recall offering you an alliance some time ago." Mara nodded. "The irony wasn't
lost on me, either." "You didn't take it then, yet you expect us to take yours
now." The enormous frame of the man who had once been  the  Empire's  greatest
TIE fighter pilot shifted minutely. It might have been a shrug, Jacen thought.
"It is the way of the Chiss," he went on,  "to  stand  down  and  let  another
decide when one is unable to be  impartial.  I  trusted  Peita  to  view  with
clarity what I could not." Fel's gaze was as cold and sharp as an ice  dagger.
Jacen didn't understand where the man's hostility came from. It was one  thing
to be old enemies, but that didn't  explain  the  passion  that  so  obviously
burned behind the man's gaze.
     Luke moved to stand beside his wife. "I believe we reached a satisfactory
conclusion." He held out his hand. "Under other circumstances, perhaps it'd be
a pleasure, Soontir." Fel  hesitated,  then  returned  the  gesture,  gripping
Luke's hand in his enormous fist. "We're  not  allies  yet,  Skywalker."  "But
we're not enemies, either. Surely that counts for something." Mara made a show
of glancing at her chronometer. "We should really be going," she said.  "Those
two days aren't going to stick around forever." "Indeed," Pel said.  His  dark
gaze swept the  group  gathered  behind  the  Skywalkers.  "The  Expeditionary
Library is some distance from here, in another enclave. Rather than move  your
ship, I suggest you allow me to provide you transport.  The  resources  at  my
disposal are more secure than even  those  the  Chiss  normally  offer."  Luke
hesitated, and Jacen could sense his uncle conferring with Mara. He  was  sure
that Luke's concerns reflected his own reservations. Aabe's decision to  allow
them access to the library had surprised him, but Jacen could see how it might
be a ploy to separate them from the ship. And he knew Mara wouldn't want to be
any farther horn Jade Shadow than was absolutely necessary.
     But did they dare risk offending Fel by refusing his offer? Or could they
afford the time it would take  to  move  their  own  ship  when  a  convenient
alternative was available? After all, as Mara had said, two days wasn't a  lot
of time to play with.
     "Thank you," Luke said in the end. "Your offer would  certainly  save  us
some time." "But if you try anything,  Soontir..."  Mara  let  the  threat  go
unstated, but there was no mistaking it in her tone or body language.
     Fel almost smiled. "Believe me: if I had wanted to try something, I would
have done so long before now." He turned away. "Time  is  wasting.  We  cannot
afford to be standing here chatting like fools. If you're going to  come  with
me, then I suggest you do so now. Because the deadline is not going to change.
" "You'll make sure of that, will you?" Mara asked.
     He fixed her with another steely gaze. "You can count on  it,  Mara  Jade
Skywalker." Jaina was exhausted by the time they returned  to  their  quarters
after the first day on Bakura. The meeting with the Senate had been  postponed
so Prime Minister Cun-dertol could attend,  leaving  them  stuck  with  junior
officials and restless flunkies. When the time finally came, the  presence  of
the  Galactic  Alliance  delegation  was  completely  swamped  by  Cundertol's
triumphant appearance and  the  banquet  that  followed.  His  long,  somewhat
rambling and self - congratulatory speech was greeted  with  cheers  from  the
Senate and the press galleries, but left her agreeing with  Jag's  impression:
The Prime Minister of Bakura was a good-looking figurehead, but a  little  too
obsessed with his own interests to be a good statesperson.
     Nevertheless, the banquet hadn't been too bad. Men and  women  in  formal
attire had provided attentive service, rather than droids, making  Jaina  feel
very out of place in her expedition uniform. The food had been excellent,  and
she'd had the chance to sample some of the Namana nectar she'd heard  so  much
about, a liqueur the Bakurans were particularly proud of. And  rightfully  so,
she had to admit. Orange in color, it caressed her taste  buds  like  a  slow-
burning ray of sunlight. She'd only taken a sip, however; she didn't want  her
reflexes dulled.
     Judging by its effects on the people around her, her decision had been  a
wise one.
     Two people who had also stayed resolutely sober were  Cundertol  and  his
deputy, Blaine Harris. She wondered if that  explained  her  impression  that,
despite the seemingly friendly and polite exchanges between  them,  underneath
the surface simmered a powerful tension. It might have been a  mutual  dislike
of each other, but why that should be, exactly, Jaina wasn't sure.  They  were
political running mates, after all. It could have been nothing more  than  the
fact that both were powerful personalities and dominating men.
     Working  together  in  such  close  but  clearly  defined   roles   would
undoubtedly chafe.
     Still, it made her  curious.  She  wondered  how  Harris  had  felt  upon
receiving the news of Cundertol's kidnapping. She imagined that  part  of  him
would have been secretly relieved to be rid of him. If the Prime Minister died
or disappeared, his deputy would be the natural  successor.  The  question  of
whether Harris had been involved in the kidnapping itself therefore had to  be
asked. And if he had, then Malinza Thanas's arrest would have been little more
than a deliberate attempt by Harris to find a scapegoat.
     Really, though, there was nothing she could pin down  to  justify  either
Jag's nebulous suspicions, or her own. Cundertol's Force presence  was  strong
and clear: He was who he said he was, and his thoughts were his own.
     Even Lwothin, the P'w'eck advance leader, seemed nothing but  pleased  at
Cundertol's return. A little relieved, perhaps-but  that  was  understandable,
given that the consecration of Bakura was due to take place the very next day.
     With Cundertol back and the popular leader of the resistance behind bars,
there was no reason for the Keeramak to further delay its arrival.  The  dull-
scaled saurian hadn't partaken of the local delicacies, preferring instead  to
stick to a dish of fft-a multilegged lizard that had been imported from Lwhekk
especially for the occasion. Throughout the banquet he seemed to be  carefully
observing the people and the goings-on around him, and although  Jaina's  eyes
met his on several occasions, she found his golden gaze completely unreadable.
     "Anyone else feel like we're the odd ones  out?"  Han  asked,  collapsing
onto a floating couch. Their rooms weren't as finely  appointed  as  the  ones
they'd had on Galantos, but that suited Jaina just fine. Too much  hospitality
only made her edgy.
     "They're just caught up in their own affairs." As  was  often  the  case,
Leia's input on the matter was in opposition to her husband's, but to show she
wasn't being argumentative, she sat on the couch beside Han and took his  hand
in hers.
     She didn't mean to be contrary; she simply wanted to make sure that every
situation was properly viewed from all angles. It had taken Jaina a long  time
to understand the way her mother's mind worked,  something  her  twin  brother
seemed to have picked up instinctively a long time ago. "They'll get around to
us when they have reason to."  "Perhaps  they  should  be  reminded  of  those
reasons," Jaina said, talking over her shoulder as she set up the  same  anti-
bugging equipment they'd used on Galantos.  "They've  got  problems  a  simple
treaty isn't going fix, because if that illegal transmission  we  received  is
anything to go by, then the resistance infiltrators are high  up  the  command
chain. Locking Malinza Thanas away isn't going to magically erase  that  fact.
If anything, it could make it worse." In the corner of her  eye,  she  noticed
Tahiri  moving  restlessly  through  the  rooms,,  as  though  searching   for
something, and wondered what the younger Jedi was doing.
     "It depends on what they want," Leia was  saying.  "One  group  seems  in
favor of an alliance with the P'w'eck as  opposed  to  an  alliance  with  us.
Another wants nothing to do with the P'w'eck." She  shrugged.  "If  our  being
here exposes the cracks in the underground, then that might be a  good  thing.
Instead of one concentrated assault on the local government, their  objectives
may fragment, resulting in  a  number  of  small  and  relatively  ineffectual
attacks." "Scattershot might be inaccurate," Han said, absently  playing  with
Leia's fingers in his hand, "but it usually hits  something.  Personally,  I'd
rather be on the receiving end of a single sniper than a dozen people spraying
wildly. At least with a sniper you  know  when  the  threat  is-"  He  stopped
midsentence, his attention also caught by Tahiri's unusual behavior.  Now  she
was inspecting the underside of an antique drink cabinet.
     "Tahiri?" Leia said. "What are you-?" "A-ha!" Tahiri stood bolt  upright,
brandishing a small object in her outstretched hand. "This is it!"  Jaina  and
her parents exchanged confused looks.
     "This is what?" Jaina asked.
     Tahiri brought the thing closer for the others to see. Jaina leaned in to
examine the object and found it to be a metallic  capsule  no  larger  than  a
baby's tooth.
     "The Ryn said we'd find what we needed here," Tahiri said. "This  has  to
be it." "The Ryn?" Leia repeated.
     Han quickly outlined what he had learned about  Tahiri's  encounter  with
the Ryn on the landing field.
     "Did he say anything else?" Leia asked Tahiri.
     "Only that he thought you should be careful," Tahiri told  her.  "But  he
couldn't talk properly there, so he said he'd contact us later. Perhaps that's
what this is: a note of some kind." She fiddled with the capsule,  turning  it
over in her hands and picking at a seam around its  middle.  Nothing  happened
until she squeezed it between two fingers; then one end clicked and there  was
a brief but intense flash of light.
     Jaina blinked in surprise, waiting for  something  else  to  happen.  But
nothing did. The capsule was inert again, and no matter how much Tahiri  poked
at the thing, she couldn't get it to repeat the flash of light.
     "That can't be right," the young Jedi muttered. "You'd  think  he'd  make
sure it worked before leaving it for us." "Excuse me,  Mistress  Leia,"  C-3PO
said, "but-"

     Han raised a hand to motion him to be quiet. "Hang on,  Goldenrod.  We're
busy right now trying to figure out how this thing  works."  "But,  sir,"  the
droid said. "I already know how it works." All four  stopped  what  they  were
doing and turned to C-3PO.
     "Well?" Han asked after almost fifteen  seconds.  "Come  on!"  "It  would
seem, sir," C-3PO said, "that  the  flash  of  light  contained  a  compressed
message-a holographic page of writing, to be precise. My  photoreceptors  were
able to collect the data and store it in my memory banks."  "A  note?"  Tahiri
asked excitedly. "What does it say?" "It appears to be written in  an  obscure
Givin code." " But can you translate it?" The droid bristled at the very  idea
he might not be able to. "Of course. The message reads:  'Malinza  Thanas  has
information you will need. She is being held in Cell Twelve-Seventeen  of  the
Salis D'aar Penitentiary. You can gain access through  Rear  Entrance  Twenty-
three at midnight tonight. The code word is fringe  dweller.  I  will  try  to
contact you properly tomorrow.' ' Jaina committed the details to  memory.  "Is
that all?" "I'm afraid so, Mistress Jaina." "It's not much, is it?" Tahiri put
in, disappointed.
     "It's enough for now," Leia said. "I'll go and find out what Malinza  has
to say as soon as the time is right." Jaina shook her head. "Let me  go,"  she
said. "You'll be missed.  They'll  expect  you  to  stay  to  investigate  the
situation with the P'w'eck. If you send me  or  Dad  in  your  place,  they'll
wonder why." "Will Malinza listen to you, though?" Leia asked. "Right now  she
has no more reason to trust you than we have to trust her." "I'll just have to
use my winning ways, I guess. Be - sides, it's not as if she's going  to  find
many willing-ears in prison. This could be the last chance she gets."  "Okay."
Leia stood and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "But be  careful,  won't
you?" Jaina smiled, then brushed off her mother's concern -  sweet  though  it
was-and went to her room to prepare.
     "Halt!" The image of a guard appeared in  the  stolen  villip.  Nom  Anor
watched as the Shamed One carrying the villip-cunningly concealed  in  a  dead
and - hollowed k'snell vase-unhesitatingly  obeyed  the  warrior's  command-as
would be expected of a member of the lowest social class who had just wandered
into Lord Shimrra's antechambers.
     The guard advanced slowly upon the Shamed One, his face set in  a  sneer.
"In your haste to rejoin Yun-Shuno, you have  forgotten  that  no  one  enters
these chambers without permission  from  the  Supreme  Overlord  himself."  He
stopped a couple of paces from the Shamed One,  his  grotesque  visage  thrust
into close focus. "Explain why it is that your vile presence now dirties these
floors." "I-I was sent by High Priest Jakan," stammered Nom  Anor's  spy.  She
had practiced the excuse many times before leaving on her mission, but it  had
never before sounded so  unconvincing.  "He  or-ordered  me  to  present  this
offering-" "Lies!" The warrior's amphistaff uncurled from around his uniformed
waist, snapping into an attack position. "You will tell me what it is you  are
doing here, and then, for your transgressions, you will feel the wrath of Lord
Shimrra's palace guard." As the warrior took another step closer,  the  Shamed
One dropped to her knees, clutching the k'snell vase and the villip within  to
her chest. "Please-" Nom Anor couldn't see her face, but he could imagine  her
fear.


     " Your begging is an affront to all Yuuzhan Vong!" the warrior growled as
he raised his amphistaff. "Prepare to die!" "Jeedai!" the Shamed One screeched
suddenly, her tone no longer obsequious and sniveling.  As  was  planned,  she
triggered the patch at the base of the k'snell with  the  palm  of  her  hand.
"Ganner!" The image died with the villip and the Shamed  One  a  split  second
before the amphistaff came crashing down. The last thing Nom Anor saw  of  the
antechamber was the twisted and hateful snarl of the warrior.
     "She wasn't supposed to say anything about the Jedi," he said, using  the
infidel pronunciation he had become accustomed to during years  of  undercover
work. A rising tide of anger was hard to contain. They had been so close!
     "At'raoth was devoted to the cause," Shoon-mi said. He stood to one  side
of Nom Anor's new throne, situated in a hiding place that was far removed from
the last one. The former Shamed One was clearly uneasy  in  the  aftermath  of
their failed attempt to infiltrate Shimrra's chambers.  "She  went  willingly,
knowing that she might die." "But whether she died the right way remains to be
seen," Kunra said. "Will she be captured and tortured? Will they  learn  about
us?" "No!" Shoon-mi seemed shocked by the suggestion. "She will have taken the
appropriate precautions."  Nom  Anor  was  certain  his  highest  acolyte  was
correct. "The appropriate precautions" meant, in this case, breaking the false
tooth at the back of her mouth  and  swallowing  the  irksh  poison  they  had
provided her with. It would have killed her instantly. Her  fanatical  loyalty
to the cause guaranteed that she would have obeyed that last command.
     But even suicide might not be sufficient to avoid di - saster,  Nom  Anor
thought. The spy had openly declared her allegiance to  the  Jedi  heresy,  so
Shimrra would certainly be alerted now to attempts to infiltrate his walls. It
would be even harder to get in next time-and riskier.
     That didn't mean he'd give up trying, though. He  didn't  care  how  many
acolytes died in the attempt. Information on his enemy's activities was vital.
Any campaign, covert or overt, depended on intelligence, which meant he needed
to get someone on the inside of those walls-and soon. If he couldn't, then  he
wouldn't know what measures were being taken against him, and  that  left  him
unacceptably vulnerable.
     "We did well just to get this  far,"  Kunra  said.  It  was  a  desperate
attempt to make good out of a bad situation,  but  there  was  no  hiding  his
weariness.
     "At'raoth made it farther than any of the  others."  "I  believe  I  even
heard voices," Shoon-mi said.
     Nom Anor nodded. He had heard voices, too, from within the chamber on the
far side of the threshold the spy had attempted to cross.  He  was  sure  that
those voices had belonged to High Prefect Drathul, High Priest Jakan, and Lord
Shimrra's abominable puppet Onimi. Someone had been arguing with  them-one  of
the warriors, perhaps. The argument had been too faint to discern  any  actual
words, but it had been close. Had At'raoth made it just a few steps closer...
     He growled an ancient oath under his breath. Mistakes risked the ruin  of
everything he was trying to achieve. The heretical movement was still too weak
to survive a concerted purge.
     "We have to try again,"  he  said  shortly.  "We  need  access  to  those
chambers." Frustration boiled inside him like a magnetic storm. He missed  his
old networks, his  chain  of  informers,  the  many  spies  who  had  fed  him
information. Bloated on data, he had not known how fortunate he'd been  before
his fall. Starved, weakened by ignorance, he longed  for  a  return  to  those
glory days. " If we can't get a villip inside, then we will need an informer."
"But who?" Shoon-mi asked. "And how?" "Our numbers are increasing," Kunra said
by way of reply. "Word is rising up the ranks. It's  only  a  matter  of  time
before we infiltrate the upper echelons." "I cannot wait that long!" Nom  Anor
snapped. "The closer we get to the top, the riskier it becomes for us. Without
knowing what Shimrra knows, we are like one of his sacrifices:  on  our  knees
with a coufee at our throats, waiting for the killing blow to finish us  off."
He shrugged under his robes. Lately in his dreams he found himself  fleeing  a
band of warriors bent on his destruction. He never  saw  them,  but  he  could
always sense them close behind, and could always hear them. In his dreams,  he
was nothing more than an animal being hunted.
     He shook his head; the waking hours were no time to waste on nightmares.
     "I will not die down here," he said. "I will not become like the corridor
ghouls: blind and vulnerable to anyone  with  light."  "It  will  not  happen,
Master," Shoon-mi said lamely. "We would let no such  thing  happen  to  you."
Shoon-mi's attempts to reassure him were like those he would use on  a  child,
and Nom Anor brushed them aside with the contempt they deserved.
     "Enough!" He stalked back to the throne and collapsed into it.  "Find  me
another volunteer. We will try again;  we  will  keep  trying  until  we  have
achieved our goal! We must crack Shimrra's security  before  he  cracks  ours.
It's either that, or perish." Shoon-mi swallowed and backed away,  bowing.  He
didn't know anything about the spy they'd captured at their last headquarters,
but he understood the reality of their situation. They were heretics, anathema
to Shimrra and the priests, a contamination to be purged.  A  rust,  Nom  Anor
thought, remembering his musing on the rotting of iron he had observed in  the
belly of Yuuzhan'tar before adopting the mantle of Prophet.
     "It will be done, Master." "Make certain of it," Nom Anor said. His glare
fell upon Kunra, also. "Both of you." Kunra nodded grimly, not needing to  say
that there were only so many volunteers left to be  wasted  on  such  hopeless
missions. The more that failed, the fewer there were to choose from next time.
Sacrifice needed a point to be noble.
     But he, too, understood the harsh reality of the situation. It was either
kill or be killed. If the most the Shamed Ones could gain was  to  choose  the
manner of their passing, then that, at least, was something. It was  certainly
more than Shimrra had ever offered them.
     Jain a crouched behind a stone balustrade on  the  roof  of  a  warehouse
across the road from the penitentiary. She kept herself  low  to  avoid  being
spotted by the powerful floodlights sweeping the area. Regular patrols  around
the perimeter of the prison she had expected, but the Ryn hadn't  warned  them
about the swarm of G-2RD sentry droids that accompanied them, and  she  hadn't
anticipated them.
     The Bakurans' usual dislike of droids  had  obviously  been  overcome  by
pragmatism in this case. Surveillance of the area  was  frequent  and  random,
making it difficult to predict when sweeps would next  take  place.  Worst  of
all, she had tripped some sort of concealed alarm when she'd  dared  make  her
first dash for the rear entrance. The entire compound was now on  full  alert,
ready and waiting for someone to break in.
     Half an hour's careful observation convinced her that it was unlikely she
could sneak in unobserved. And if the se-curity on the inside was as stringent
as that on the outside, then she wasn't going to last a  minute  in  there-let
alone reach the cell she needed. No, she was going to have to try another way.
..
     Slipping out from her hiding space, she crossed the roof of the warehouse
and descended a narrow ladder fixed to the far wall. The laneway at  its  base
was cluttered with rubbish, suggesting it was rarely used. Following it to its
end, she allowed a trio of deep and calming breaths to fill her with  a  sense
of control and authority.
     I am not a covert agent, she told herself. I  am  the  representative  of
visiting dignitaries, and the people here are our allies.
     With a brisk, measured pace, she walked around the corner and  into  full
view of the security droids. A spotlight instantly hit her full in  the  face,
but she didn't break step-the slightest hesitation could destroy the  illusion
she was trying to create.
     Two G-2RD droids swooped from emplacements in the  high  ferrocrete  wall
that was the rear of the prison. Floating spheres equipped with several  means
to inflict discomfort, they converged on her, buzzing furiously like  agitated
insects.
     "Halt!" exclaimed one. She couldn't tell which.
     She stopped within three meters of the rear entrance,  radiating  patient
obedience.
     "State your name and purpose here," ordered the other, its voice a  nasal
whine probably designed to irritate.
     "My name is Jaina Solo," she replied easily.  "I'm  here  to  speak  with
Malinza Thanas." Both droids buzzed as they performed a  quick  check  on  her
clearance. After a couple of seconds, one of the droids advanced with its stun
prod crackling. "No  such  visitation  has  been  authorized."  "Please  don't
threaten me," she said, sending the small droid into a spin with a  push  from
the Force. "I really don't take too kindly to things like  that."  The  second
droid emitted a piercing wail that Jaina was quick to cut short.
     She reached deep into the droid's circuitry with the Force and fused  its
vocabulator.
     More droids and spotlights converged on her. She couldn't have drawn more
attention to herself if she'd wanted to. Nevertheless, she maintained her calm
exterior and kept her hands well away from her lightsaber.
     "I am here to speak with Malinza Thanas,"  she  repeated,  patiently  and
firmly.
     "Please let me through." The first droid  recovered  from  its  spin  and
faced her again, this time speaking with a different voice, that  of  a  guard
from within the compound, obviously watching through the droid's sensors.
     "I'm sorry, but we cannot  allow  visitors  without  authorization."  She
folded her arms in front of her. "Then I suggest you get it, because  I'm  not
going anywhere until I've seen Malinza And I  have  no  intention  of  leaving
quietly. I'll give you one minute to comply." The droid buzzed, bobbing up and
down as though itching to be given the okay to  attack  her.  She  watched  it
warily while counting from one to sixty in her head.
     At the end of the minute, she heard hurried footsteps coming  toward  her
from around the nearest corner.
     "I can't wait all night, you know," she said, brushing the droids  easily
aside and taking three more paces toward  the  rear  door  that  the  Ryn  had
specified in his message. There she spoke the code word she'd been given.
     "Fringe dweller." The door instantly hissed open, lifting sharply up into
the ceiling. She strode through into a glowing  white  corridor  that  led  as
straight as a beam of light into the heart of the building.
     A chorus of buzzing from the droids followed her. A new voice issued from
the nearest droid's casing.
     "This is a flagrant disregard for regulations!" There was  no  disguising
the guard's annoyance. "Whoever you are, I  must  insist  that-"  "As  I  have
already explained," she said, "my name is Jaina Solo, and I'd appreciate it if
you could make up your minds as to whether you intend to assist me  or  arrest
me. I really have no desire to fight you, but if you force my hand then I-"  "
You can't expect to just walk in here and see  any  prisoner  you  like!  Ever
heard of protocol?" "You ever heard of a diplomatic incident?" she shot  back.
"Because that's what you're going to get if I don't get to see Malinza Thanas.
" The pause was longer this time,  and  she  sensed  the  droids  backing  off
slightly. A squad of guards had appeared behind them, and  waited  uncertainly
to see what she would do next.
     "Well?" she prompted after a while. "What's it to be?" "Please wait where
you are." The voice seemed more cowed than it had been a  moment  before,  and
Jaina suspected the guards had been instructed by their superiors to  let  her
through. "An escort will arrive shortly." No sooner had this  been  said  than
four Bakuran security guards came hurrying around  the  corner-their  weapons,
she noted, carefully bolstered.
     "Come with us," ordered the one nearest to her. He spoke firmly, gruffly,
but there was no escaping the fact that he was a little uneasy. Jaina  allowed
herself a slight  smile  at  this;  they  weren't  as  good  at  hiding  their
nervousness as she was.
     She didn't move. "Not until I know where you're taking me." "You're to be
taken to see the prisoner," he replied. "As requested." There was derision  in
his tone, but it was all bluster and show. He knew that Jaina  had  the  upper
hand in this situation.
     Her smile widened. It never hurt to boost respect for  Jedi  on  outlying
worlds, and respect wasn't always earned at the end of a lightsaber.
     She offered a polite bow of her head in  the  direction  of  the  droids,
knowing that whoever had authorized her would  no  doubt  be  watching.  There
would be no further need for any aggressive posturing this evening-not  unless
she was provoked, of course. "I apologize for this inconvenience. The sooner I
can see Malinza Thanas, the sooner I can be out  of  your  hair."  Her  senses
finely attuned for any sign of deception, she let herself be shepherded by the
four guards deep into the heart of the penitentiary. The high - security  wing
was identical to the regular wings except for G-2RD droids stationed at  every
junction. They hummed menacingly when she passed, as though warning her not to
try the same tricks she had employed on their fellow sentries.  She  tried  to
memorize every turn and corridor as she went, but it  wasn't  easy.  They  all
looked the same to her, and  the  cell  numbers  didn't  seem  to  follow  any
particular pattern.
     Finally they arrived at Cell 12-17. The door looked like all  the  others
they'd passed along the way: sterile white with no window or openings. One  of
the lead guards keyed a short code into a keypad, then  stepped  back  as  the
cell door slid open with a dull grinding sound.
     Inside, on a narrow cot, sat a thin, dark-haired girl  of  about  fifteen
years.
     Despite the gray prison uniform and the bruises to her face and arms, she
still had a defiant look about her-but there was also exhaustion  behind  that
defiance.
     "What now?" the girl asked.
     "A visitor," the first guard said, motioning Jaina to enter. He indicated
a green touchpad by the door. "When you're done, just hit  the  CALL  button."
"Kinda late  for  visitors,  isn't  it?"  Malinza  said,  looking  Jaina  over
suspiciously.
     Jaina stepped into the brightly lit cell. "My name is  Jaina  Solo,"  she
said as the door closed behind her. She examined the girl  quickly,  wondering
what sort of treatment she'd been subjected to.
     Malinza's sharply defined face tilted upward. She  studied  Jaina  for  a
moment before nodding. "Uncle Luke has spoken about you. He once showed  me  a
holo of you and Jacen when you were little." Jaina felt an unaccountable  stab
of jealousy at the girl's words. Uncle Luke?
     Who was this girl she'd never met, claiming Jaina's uncle as her own?
     Indignation  quickly  gave  way  to  understanding,  however,  when   she
remembered that Malinza was Luke's sponsor daughter.  With  both  her  parents
dead-Gaeriel Captison, former Prime Minister of  Bakura,  had  sacrificed  her
life to destroy a large chunk of the troublesome Sacorrian Triad,  while  Pter
Thanas died of Knowt's disease some years earlier-Luke Skywalker was  probably
the closest thing she had to family. What right did Jaina  have  to  deny  the
girl that?
     "I wish we could have met under better circumstances," she  said,  moving
deeper into the small room, close to the girl. She gestured to the bunk.  "May
I?" "You sure picked a bad time to visit," Malinza said as she moved  to  make
room for Jaina to sit down.
     "Want to tell me about it?" Malinza studied Jaina with  a  maturity  that
was at odds with her age. Her gaze was piercing, made even more  disconcerting
by the fact that her eyes were different colors. Her left iris was green,  her
right gray.
     Just as her mother's had been, Jaina thought.
     For a long moment it seemed as though Malinza wasn't ever going to  reply
to Jaina's question.
     "You know why I'm in here," she said after a while.
     "You've been charged with kidnapping the Prime Minister." "Actually,  the
official charge is disturbing the peace and conspiracy." "Doesn't it amount to
the same thing?" Malinza shook her head. "The difference is an important  one,
actually." t: "Why? Now that Cundertol has returned-" "I  had  nothing  to  do
with him," Malinza interrupted. "But the rest is true enough." "Sorry,  but  I
find it hard to picture you as a  disturber  of  the  peace."  Malinza  smiled
faintly at Jaina's comment as she held out her arms to  display  the  bruises.
"Look at me," she said. "If they wanted to beat me, there are ways they  could
have done it without leaving any marks. I earned these while resisting arrest.
It took three of them,  as  well  as  two  droids,  to  bring  me  down."  Her
expression held a burning pride, but it failed to hide the terrible  weariness
that Jaina recognized all too clearly. She remembered that feeling  from  when
Anakin had died: of there being nothing  left  to  lose;  of  desperation;  of
despair. It was so easy to mistake the signs of  self-destruction  for  battle
scars.
     "What are you fighting for?" Jaina asked.
     "That's the strange thing.  A  week  ago,  I  wasn't  fighting  at  all."
Malinza's defiance dissolved altogether then, and became  a  look  of  genuine
bemusement.
     "You've no idea what you've just stepped into. I  tell  you,  it's  crazy
around here." "In what way, Malinza?" Jaina leaned in closer to  en-couiage  a
feeling of trust.
     The girl chuckled. "That I'd even think about telling you is probably the
craziest thing of all," she said, slumping back against the wall.  "If  anyone
here is the enemy, it's you." Jaina frowned but  said  nothing,  sensing  that
there was no point pushing. It would come or it wouldn't.
     After more than a dozen heartbeats, Malinza sighed. "Whatever.  It's  not
as if I haven't tried to tell everyone here already." "They don't believe you?
" "Why else do you think I'm in here?" The girl pointed at  where  a  security
cam watched them. "I guess it couldn't hurt for them to hear it one more time.
And who knows: they might even listen this time." "And even  if  they  don't,"
Jaina said, "you can be assured that  I  will."  Malinza  smiled  and  nodded.
"Okay," she said, leaning forward again to begin her story. "About a month ago
I was  in  charge  of  a  cell  of  activists,  capitalizing  on  my  parents'
reputations to get our message heard. There were sixteen  of  us  in  all.  At
first we just organized protests, spread the word-but  it's  grown  much  more
over time. We called ourselves Freedom." She rolled her eyes.  "It's  lame,  I
know, but it gets the point across." "And what point  is  that?"  "That  we're
tired of kowtowing to Imperial doctrines, of course. It's time for us to throw
off our shackles and govern ourselves." "Imperial?" Jaina echoed, confused. It
had been almost thirty years since the Imperial  presence  had  been  repelled
from Bakura.
     "Not the Empire," Malinza explained. "The thing that took its place:  the
New Republic. Don't you know that nature abhors a vacuum? Especially  a  power
vacuum.
     No sooner had we won our freedom than  we  held  out  our  wrists  to  be
shackled again. We offered ourselves up to the New Republic like pets  begging
for a scrap of affection. And that's all we got, too: scraps." Jaina winced at
the description of the government her parents had helped create.
     "Of course, you don't call it the New Republic anymore, do you? It's been
given a new name ever since it lost its war against the Yuuzhan Vong." Malinza
snorted derisively. "No one wants to be associated with losers, do they?
     Therefore, your only hope of fighting back was to pretend to be something
else.
     But cratsch droppings by any other name still stink,  don't  you  think?"
She shook her head and looked away. " If you do beat the Yuuzhan Vong,  you'll
just chain everyone up like before. And if you lose, you'll drag everyone else
down with you." "It's not like that." "No? You'll probably tell me that  we'll
all die unless we band together to defeat the common enemy. But there's always
a common enemy, Jaina. Oppressive regimes don't  function  without  them.  The
Empire had its Rebel Alliance; once, we had the Ssi-ruuk; and right  now,  you
have the Yuuzhan Vong. Who will it be next time you feel the cracks spreading?
" "I'll be happy just to reach the next  time,"  Jaina  said.  "But  tell  me,
Malinza, what would happen if we did lose this war? What would you do  if  the
Yuuzhan Vong turned up on your doorstep and we weren't there to help you, like
we did with the Ssi-ruuk?" "We'd fight them, of course," the girl said simply.
"And yes, we would probably all die in  the  process.  But  it  would  be  our
decision, not one made by some faceless bureaucrat on the other  side  of  the
galaxy." "Is that really the issue, Malinza? Does it really boil down  to  who
controls you? Or who makes the decisions for you?" " Of course  it  does!"  "I
don't recall the New Republic ever demanding  anything  of  Bakura.  You  were
always asked." "And we always said yes. I know that. That galls me  more  than
you could possibly understand.  While  we  abased  ourselves  before  the  New
Republic, it was happy in return to steal our defense  fleet,  our  families-"
Malinza stopped there, leaning back heavily against the wall with a  troubled,
weary sigh. Jaina was relieved to see  tears  in  the  girl's  eyes.  She  had
already guessed what lay  at  the  heart  of  Malinza's  dislike  of  the  New
Republic, no matter how she dressed  it  up  in  rhetoric.  Behind  her  stoic
defiance, she was still just a fifteen-year-old girl. One pushed into  defying
a government she regarded as being  oppressive,  forced  to  learn  skills  no
teenager should have had to know-but still only fifteen. That  she  had  risen
above that disadvantage spoke volumes about her ability and her determination.
She had taken the example of her adopted uncle to heart, it seemed.
     Jaina herself hadn't been much older when the war with the  Yuuzhan  Vong
had broken out. People were capable of extraordinary things when circumstances
demanded it, she reflected.
     "I'm sorry about your mother, Malinza," Jaina said, putting a hand on the
girl's shoulder. It wasn't pushed away. "I  met  her  briefly  at  Centerpoint
before she died, but I was just a kid then. I know Uncle Luke held her in very
high regard." "I barely remember her," Malinza said, trying to  be  casual  as
she knuckled away the tears she was fighting. "I recall her  leaving,  and  my
aunt trying to explain what had happened when she didn't come back, but I  was
only four years old, and I never really understood. I just knew who had  taken
her from us. The New Republic dragged her into a war she wasn't part  of,  and
she gave her life to save others. She did a very good thing,  and  I  suffered
because of it." She shrugged helplessly. "I guess the uni -  verse  found  its
balance, as it always does. It's just that in  this  instance  I  was  on  the
receiving end, that's all."  "Balance?"  asked  Jaina.  "What  do  you  mean?"
"Cosmic Balance. The wheel of fate, you know?" She shifted her position on the
bunk so she was facing Jaina fully. "Every action causes a reaction.  A  great
force for good can't exist without there also being a  counterbalancing  force
for evil, somewhere. In the same way, good works  lead  to  evil  results  for
someone else, quite unintentionally. It's just how the  universe  works,  *and
the Force, too. Save someone on Bakura today and you might kill another later.
That's why I don't want this Alliance of yours here.  It's  too  dangerous.  I
have no desire to see my home get caught in friendly fire." "So  you  want  no
part in the Galactic Alliance and the war against the Yuuzhan  Vong.  Is  that
what you're saying?" "Don't get me wrong, Jaina. I have nothing against  Uncle
Luke. Apart from Aunt Laera, who raised me  after  Mom  died,  he's  the  only
family I have left. Dad died not long after I was born, so I never got to know
him. If I should side with anyone, it would be you. It's only my fear  of  the
backlash from the Balance that stops me." "So how  does  kidnapping  Cundertol
help you, then? He's all for an alliance with the P'w'eck. They'd make  viable
alternatives to the Galactic Alliance  and  give  you  a  fighting  chance  of
defending Bakura against a Yuuzhan Vong attack." "Exactly!" she said.  "That's
why it makes no sense for me to have kidnapped Cundertol in the first  place."
"But you could have ordered it-" "No," Malinza cut in firmly. "I didn't.  Just
because I'm young doesn't make me automatically  stupid!"  "I'm  not  saying-"
"Maybe not, but you're still listening to what they're telling you-and they're
telling you that I'm stupid." A humorless laugh broke her somber  mood.  "Then
again, to have attempted a stunt like that, perhaps  they're  right."  "You're
not stupid, Malinza," Jaina tried to reassure her, but the girl didn't seem to
hear.
     "I keep trying to explain that the goal of Freedom is simply to kick  the
New Republic off Bakura. We don't use violence, and we certainly don't  kidnap
people. Call us idealistic if you want, but we do have  principles.  The  last
thing we want to see is the old regime replaced  with  one  equally  as  bad."
Jaina's mind boggled at the thought of sixteen people attempting to take on  a
galactic civilization. It smacked of either madness or incredible bravery.
     "How did you ever hope  to  succeed?"  "Ah,  well,  there's  the  thing,"
Malinza answered with a half smile. "You see, we had some funding from private
sources, and with that money we were able to dig deep into the infrastructure,
looking for things that might assist us: evidence  of  corruption,  brutality,
nepotism, and so on. You'd be surprised what we turned  up."  Jaina  seriously
doubted that; she'd heard plenty about dodgy politicians over the  years  from
her mother. "Who funded you?" "They would consider that  private,  I'm  sure,"
Malinza said firmly. "Especially where you  are  concerned."  Jaina  respected
Malinza's reticence on the  matter,  but  quietly  suspected  that  the  Peace
Brigade might  have  been  involved  at  some  point  in  the  past.  Such  an
underground organization would be just the thing for stirring up dissent. "You
say you're not into violence, Malinza, but what about the  others?"  "None  of
the sixteen core members of Freedom was into violence. It  wasn't  our  style.
But..." "But?" "Well, there were others who joined us," she said.
     "And it's possible that they might have had violent intentions. In  fact,
with some of them I'd have to say that violence was high on their agenda.  But
we didn't encourage them to stay." "So  who  else  would  join?"  "All  sorts,
really. Not all of Freedom's actions were covert; we had  a  recruiting  front
and our policies were well known. This is a democracy, right?
     Or it's supposed to be.  Some  of  our  members  were  bored  with  their
everyday lives and were looking for  excitement.  Sometimes  we'd  get  people
coming over from similar underground movements." She shrugged. "Ever since the
P'w'eck arrived, we've attracted all sorts of  malcontents."  "Why  is  that?"
"Well, for one thing, my involvement in Freedom was never a secret, and I have
some sort of profile with the media because my mother was once prime minister.
     We've had cranks trying to come along for the ride since we started,  but
they've always been easy to weed out. Until recently, anyway." She looked down
at her lap. "It was getting hard to control, to be  honest.  The  anti-P'w'eck
movement made it clear that if we weren't with  them,  then  we  were  against
them. As I said, I'm not a xenophobe; I think the  P'w'eck  could  be  a  good
thing for Bakura.
     I don't want to be  against  anyone,  really,  because  that  makes  them
against me.
     The Balance kicks back just as hard as we lash out. And trust me, I  have
no desire to get kicked again." "I think I'm  starting  to  understand  that,"
Jaina said. And she was. She didn't necessarily believe everything Malinza had
said, but she also didn't  believe  that  the  girl  was  the  sort  to  order
kidnappings and murders to further her cause. "So  why  do  you  really  think
you're in here, then?" she added.
     'We were too good at what we did," Malinza said. "We were making too many
inroads. We'd uncovered some dirt on a  few  Senators  and  threatened  to  go
public with the information." "Blackmail?" "Is it blackmail if  you're  acting
in the public's  best  interests?"  Malinza  shrugged.  "Whatever.  They  were
getting nervous, but they couldn't put us away without  whipping  up  an  even
bigger storm. We hadn't done anything really wrong, you  see.  It  would  have
been difficult for them to incarcerate us for very long, because once we  made
their secrets known then public sympathy would have been on our  side.  So  we
reached a kind of impasse, I guess. It was only a matter of waiting to see who
snapped first." "During which time you kept digging for more dirt, I presume,"
Jaina said.
     "Which means that if they don't genuinely think you kidnapped  Cundertol,
then you must have uncovered something new that they  very  much  wanted  kept
quiet." "If we did, then I honestly have  no  idea  what  it  could've  been."
Malinza shook her head again. "We were tracing some financial deal  that  went
through just after the P'w'eck arrived. An awful lot of money went  off-world,
but we couldn't work out who was behind it or where it was  going.  It  looked
like some sort of commercial transaction, and may well have  been  just  that.
The fact that the endpoints had been obscured made us wonder." She  looked  at
Jaina, eyes narrowed slightly. "Your Galactic Alliance isn't looking for money
now, is it?" "No. Not from Bakura, anyway." Taking  money  from  Bakura  would
have been like taking small change from a child in order to finance a starship
purchase. "It could have been legit, as you say." Malinza  nodded,  taking  in
the confines of the cell with one sweeping gesture.
     "Nevertheless, here I am." She paused, fixing Jaina with a  sober  stare.
"I'm not responsible for Cundertol's kidnapping, I swear. But that's not going
to stop the people behind this. They never let the truth get  in  the  way  of
what they want." "If you didn't do it, they won't be able to make the  charges
stick." Malinza laughed. " You're assuming I'm going to get a fair trial." She
shook her head. "There's bound to be  circumstantial  evidence."  Perhaps  the
young woman was right, Jaina thought, recalling Blaine Harris's certainty over
Malinza's guilt on announcing the news of her  capture.  On  the  other  hand,
though, there was also Cundertol's reaction on hearing the news  to  consider.
Clearly, he hadn't been as convinced as Harris had.
     "The Prime Minister's testimony will count for something,"  she  said  by
way of reassuring Malinza. "He was there, after all. If he  doesn't  think  it
was you, then I doubt they'd ever be able to convict." "Maybe,"  Malinza  said
faintly. Some of the fire had gone out of her; she looked more than ever  like
a lonely, frightened teenager caught out of her depth. "I just  have  to  have
faith in the Balance. If a wrong is done to me now, then some good  will  come
of it another day. That's some comfort, at least." A very  lonely  one,  Jaina
thought. But then, perhaps Malinza's belief in the Balance was no less  lonely
than Jaina's own faith in the Force.
     She stood, glancing at her chronometer. It was well  past  midnight,  and
her parents would be starting to get worried. "I  should  go  now."  "But  you
haven't told me why you're here yet," Malinza protested.
     "I'm just doing my job," Jaina said with a smile. "You know what Jedi are
like: we're always getting in the way." "As well as always getting their way."
The smile was halfheartedly returned. Then it was lost altogether. "I have  to
admit I would be glad to be out of here." Jaina nodded sympathetically.  "I'll
see what I can do about that." She palmed the  green  CALL  button  and  faced
Malinza one last time. "Maybe we can apply some pressure to get  your  hearing
processed more quickly and-" She broke off. The door had opened onto an  empty
corridor.
     "That's strange," she muttered. Malinza peered past her. "What is?"  "The
guards said they'd escort me out of here." Jaina stepped cautiously out of the
cell, every nerve screaming trap. "But there's no one. Not even so much  as  a
droid." Malinza joined her outside the cell. Jaina could tell from the  girl's
expression that she was as surprised as Jaina that no sirens sounded when  she
did this. Surprise soon became excitement, though. "It's Vyram!" she said. "It
has to be!" "Who?" "He's one of Freedom's core  members,"  Malinza  said.  "In
fact, he's what you'd call the brains behind the group. If anyone could  slice
into the system and get me out of here, it  would  be  him."  "I  don't  know,
Malinza," Jaina said, glancing around uneasily. "This doesn't  feel  right  to
me." "That's easy for you to say. You get to walk out of here no  matter  what
happens." Malinza straightened until they were almost eye to eye.  "I'm  going
for it." Jaina grabbed her sleeve as she went up the corridor.  "Wait!  That's
the wrong direction." She was unable to shake her suspicions;  something  told
her that what she was  about  to  do  was  what  someone  wanted  her  to  do.
Nevertheless, her options were limited. "At least let me show  you  the  way."
Malinza's grin was both appreciative and mischievous. "I thought  you'd  never
offer," she said.
     Tahiri moved through the canyon, tired and weary,  every  muscle  in  her
body aching terribly. It felt as though she'd been running  for  years.  Fifty
meters away on either side of her were mighty, craggy  walls  curving  up  and
around her, making her feel as though she were walking in  the  palm  of  some
impossibly immense fist. She paused for a moment to look up, and saw the stars
twinkling overhead. No, not stars! These glistening specks were too close  for
that. They were no more stars than the blackness that held them was the  night
sky.
     A sudden howl and a cry  reminded  her  that  her  pursuers  weren't  far
behind.
     Across the vast and empty plain she could make out  nothing  but  varying
degrees of darkness; there was no sign of the  thing  with  her  face  or  the
lizard creature. But they were out there somewhere; she knew  that  without  a
doubt. And if she ever stopped moving, stopped running, then they would  catch
up with her and-She pushed the thought down,  turning  back  to  the  task  of
continuing through the darkness in search of the light. However, where moments
before there'd been nothing but barren ground, now trees  crowded  around  her
from every side. For a moment she felt strangely comforted by this,  believing
that nothing could possibly find her amid such a tangle  of  branches,  limbs,
and trunks. But this comfort was short-lived. Her pursuers didn't need to  see
it, she realized; they could smell her. That's how they'd been able to  follow
her all this time-and how they would continue to follow her until she  finally
relented and surrendered to their hunger.
     The howl of the lizard beast rang out through the  spindly  foliage,  its
cry carried on a wind that rustled the daggerlike leaves hanging down from the
trees around her. She moved faster, wincing as each leaf she brushed aside cut
into her arms and hands.
     The bitter forest gave way to a rock face  that  rose  sharply  into  the
dark. For a moment, she panicked that she had nowhere left to  run,  but  then
off to her right she noticed a small crevice in the rock.
     "Tahiri..." The voice came as a whisper on  the  breeze.  It  seemed  far
away, but not so far off that she could afford to relax.
     Sucking in her stomach and bringing her arms in close to  her  side,  she
managed to make herself small enough to be able to squeeze'through the  narrow
opening, the mildew covering the rocks expediting her movement. She closed her
eyes, forcing out the disquieting thought of being swallowed as  she  wriggled
between stone. Better that, she thought, than face what was following her.
     The narrow crack widened around her. It had brought her safely out on the
far side. She opened her eyes and her heart sank at what  she  saw:  the  path
ahead was narrow and straight and lined with trees filled with ysalamiri.  She
climbed out of the crack and stood trembling for the longest time, too  scared
to move or even breathe. But her fear  came  not  from  the  idea  of  passing
between the trees, but rather from what she thought she could make out in  the
distance beyond them: a dark, reptilian figure, silhouetted against the sky.
     "Tahiri..." Crying out in fright, she spun around to see the  thing  with
her face glaring through the crevice in the mossy rock. Its arm  was  reaching
out to her; its bloodied fingers clawed for a touch of her sweat-soaked skin.
     " You can't leave me here, Tahiri..." Tahiri woke with a half-formed  cry
on her lips. Her hand was halfway to her lightsaber before she realized  where
she was: Bakura. She sighed in relief. It wasn't the worldship orbiting Myrkr.
She was safe.
     Safe? Was she really safe?
     She groped in the darkness for the light  panel,  relaxing  as  a  yellow
ambience filled the room. The bed rocked beneath her as she sat up  and  swung
her legs over the edge. Almost everything on Bakura floated;  wherever  repul-
sors could possibly be included, they were-lifting chairs, counters  of  food,
almost everything, it seemed.
     As unsettling as it was to have things floating  around  her,  it  wasn't
this that troubled her most right now. Neither was it the tension  suffocating
her like a thick fog. No, the discomfort she felt now was like a  tingling  at
the back of her mind-a suspicion that those  around  her,  the  "family"  that
Jacen had assured her she was a part of back on Mon Calamari, were  conspiring
against her.
     Jaina had talked to her mother before going off to find Malinza. Leia had
gone into Jaina's room to stir her daughter from  a  Jedi  trance  and  hadn't
emerged for some time. When she had, she had carried in her eyes a stare  that
was both wary and distant.  Leia  was  seeing  something  that  troubled  her-
something in Tahiri.
     Tahiri felt it keenly, like ice water trickling down her spine. No matter
how she tried to ignore it, the feeling simply wouldn't go away.
     Feeling like she was still dreaming, she stood up and crossed the room to
the doorway. Opening it, she crept  into  the  hallway  linking  their  rooms.
Unlike on Galantos where they had five rooms all opening onto a central common
area, on Bakura they occupied rooms designed as though in  a  hotel.  Han  and
Leia's was the largest, with an adjoining area that could be used as a  common
room. Tahiri and Jaina were up the hall, adjacent but not connecting.
     Tahiri stopped outside Jaina's room, pressing her ear against the door to
listen. There was no sound whatsoever; Jaina must still be out on her mission,
even though it was well past midnight. A distant  concern  for  Jaina's  well-
being penetrated the fog. But not for long. Jaina was  one  of  the  ones  who
suspected her, who constantly watched her for any sign of-What?  What  was  it
Jaina searched for when she looked at Tahiri? The truth, perhaps, of  who  she
really was?
     The thought hit her like a blow from behind. No! She performed  a  mental
forward somersault, rolling with the punch and coming up fighting. That's  not
who I am! In her mind, she slashed at the thought with her lightsaber, cutting
the notion to ribbons. You can't make me be someone I'm not!
     Then the terrible moment of clarity faded and the  fog  fell  around  her
once again. She embraced the  vague  dream  state,  letting  it  dissolve  her
concerns and reduce her anxieties to just one. She could still feel it tugging
at her, as though a hook had pierced her soul and  some  dreadful  angler  was
reeling her in.
     It had to stop. She didn't know how much more  of  this  she  could  take
before she snapped-or something altogether worse happened.
     She moved from Jaina's door, silently walking the short distance  to  Han
and Leia's room. There she repeated the same process, pressing her ear against
the door to listen for any movements. She couldn't hear anything.
     Keying the access code into the lock, Tahiri  eased  open  the  door.  It
surprised her that Leia's Noghri bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.  But  she
didn't have time to dwell on it. The fact was, they wouldn't be too far  away,
and if they returned now they'd be sure to question her late-night  activities
in the Princess's room...
     From the darkness inside,  C-3PO's  glowing  photo-receptor  eyes  turned
toward her.
     She raised a finger to her lips. "Not a word, Threepio,"  she  whispered.
"I just need to get something from  the  other  room,  okay?"  "As  you  wish,
Mistress Tahiri," the droid replied, making no effort  to  speak  in  a  voice
lower than he normally would. "But shouldn't you-" "Shhh," she insisted with a
hiss. "I promise not to be long." C-3PO nodded uncertainly  in  the  gloom  as
Tahiri continued through to Han and Leia's bedroom. They were asleep when  she
entered, their restful breathing the only sound. She stood  there  motionless,
extending herself into the shadows, feeling for the thing that called to  her.
And there it was; she could feel it, pulling her ever closer...
     I must destroy the evidence, she breathed to herself. Destroy it, and the
problem will go away.
     Using the Force to guide her through the darkened bedroom, she  made  her
way to a small table containing a bowl of flowers and a glass of water.  There
was something else there, too-something that the Force couldn't reveal to her.
Now that she was closer she could see it, the small object caught  in  a  fine
sliver of moonlight from the open window. And just as on Galantos  when  she'd
first found it, every one of her physical senses was tingling from the  echoes
emanating from the small pendant.
     She reached out with her hand to pick up the silver totem molded into the
likeness of Yun-Yammka, the slayer. At the very moment her fingers touched it,
a hand reached out of the blackness to grab her wrist, and a voice called  out
her name in a language that disgusted her.
     If the voice said anything else, she never heard it, as darkness suddenly
swirled around her and swallowed her senses.
     "Here we are," said the librarian, a thin, shorthaired woman  whose  name
was Tris. She had brought them to two broad, solid  doors  deep  in  a  secure
installation buried Jeep under the ice in an  isolated  sector  of  the  Chiss
homeworld. Soontir Fel had ferried them there on the back of  a  large,  black
ice barge, an armored craft that used powerful repulsors to sweep  across  the
icy planetary crust.  It  was  big  enough  to  hold  fifty  people,  but  the
passengers had consisted solely of Luke and his entourage,  Commander  Irolia,
Chief Navigator Peita Aabe, and Fel himself.  There  appeared  to  be  neither
pilots nor any security staff, so either they were keeping  carefully  out  of
sight or Fel had supreme faith in automatics.
     Upon arrival, they had been introduced to their guide from  the  Inrokini
family, who had whisked them deep underground via a turbolift that  seemed  to
take forever, while Pel and the others went off on official business.
     "We're here at last?" Jacen asked. Like the others, he was restless  from
the long journey and keen to get started on the search for Zonama Sekot.
     Their guide nodded and pushed open  the  doors  with  a  dramatic  sweep.
"Welcome to the Expeditionary Library. You are among the very few non-Chiss to
step through these doors." She waved  them  through.  Jacen  and  the  others,
mindful of the honor, moved respectfully forward into the  giant  chamber.  It
took him a second to grasp the scale. Vast and rectangular, with lines sharply
defined, the library space was as large as a  docking  bay.  There  were  four
levels of walkways surrounding the walls, with  steep  stairwells  leading  to
each, and endless rows of rectangular dividers subdividing the  floor.  Yellow
lights hung suspended from the ceiling on long cables,  casting  a  warm  glow
across the space. The air was still, warm, and fresh. A  deep  silence  filled
the space, as though the enormous volume of air was soaking up every sound.
     "Nice," Mara said, her long red hair waving as she turned to look  around
her.
     "We'll have lots of  elbow  room,  at  least.  If  you  show  us  to  the
holoscreens, we'll get started." Tris  frowned.  "Holoscreens?  There  are  no
holoscreens here." "Then how do we get at the  data?"  "I'll  show  you."  The
librarian led them across the floor of the giant chamber, along a path between
two long shelves. Jacen idly studied the contents of the shelves as he walked,
wondering what they were. They  looked  like  bricks  of  some  kind,  and  he
wondered if they were some  sort  of  data  storage  device.  A  high-security
installation such as this one would, he assumed, have a  highly  sophisticated
means of keeping its data safe. Perhaps the bricks had to be fed by hand  into
some kind of reader, which would then display its contents. Each of the memory
bricks could hold vast amounts of data, safely sealed away.
     Tris turned right at the end of the shelves and took them down to another
aisle. "Here are the exploration notes for the world you visited last, Munlali
Mafir, translated into Basic for permanent record." She reached up to the  cop
shelf and selected  one  of  the  bricks.  "Everything  here  is  meticulously
cataloged. It may take you a while to get the hang of our  system,  but  I  am
here to assist you in that task." She handed the brick to Mara, who hefted  it
uncertainly, then gave it to Jacen. It was heavier than he had  expected,  and
there were no obvious jack-in ports. The front and back were made of the  same
material as one side of the thing-a deep red material, with  gold  writing  in
Basic. The other three sides were curiously rough and soft.
     Seeing his puzzlement, Tris took it back from him and opened it. The  top
folded back like the lid of a box, only the interior wasn't empty. It was full
all the way through. Full of text.
     Only then did Jacen understand. He felt like an idiot fo'.1  not  getting
it sooner. But judging by the gasp of surprise from Danni, he knew  he  wasn't
the only one.
     Not a brick. The object in Tris's hand was a book.
     "You're kidding," Mara said, her eyebrows rising.
     It was Tris's turn  to  look  puzzled.  "The  Chiss  have  always  stored
sensitive information in this fashion. It is safe, secure, and  permanent.  We
have lost too much data in ice storms to trust other, more  complicated  forms
of storage." "But how are we going to find anything?" Danni asked.  "We  can't
do keyword searches through... this!" "There are ways to search, and I am here
to assist you." Tris seemed serenely confident, but Jacen's mind balked at the
thought of poring through the millions - maybe billions-of pages contained  on
the shelves around them. The library was full of mission reports,  xenobiology
tracts,  anthropological  assays,  and  contact  histories  from   the   Chiss
Expeditionary Defense Fleet's exploration  of  the  Unknown  Regions-and  that
exploration had been ongoing for centuries.
     How hard can this be? he told himself. If I can fly  an  X-wing  with  my
eyes shut, then surely I can leaf through a few books!
     Something similar must have been going through Saba's mind. "We  wish  to
search for referencez to Zonama Sekot," the saurian Jedi Knight said.  "Pleaze
assist us in that." "Of course." The librarian put the book back in its proper
place and walked briskly  through  the  aisles,  humming  softly  to  herself.
"Follow me." Luke exchanged glances with Jacen and Mara, then followed.
     It was a huge pit: easily thirty  meters  deep  and  almost  a  kilometer
across.
     Mighty columns stretched up into the sky, reaching for  the  planet  that
hung in the blackness like an overripe fruit about to fall. Around her on  the
ground were a number  of  ships,  some  secured  in  their  birthing  bays  by
restraining carapaces, others just lying on the ground in  various  stages  of
disrepair and decay.
     She knew the place to be an old spaceport-one that was both  comfortingly
familiar and disconcertingly alien. She  wanted  to  climb  into  one  of  the
derelict spaceships and fly off to the planet up above-for she knew that here,
at least, she might be safe-but the dilapidated condition of  the  ships  told
her that this simply wasn't an option. The spaceport and  all  its  craft  had
lain unused for many years. It was abandoned, just like the world beneath  her
feet-as abandoned as she felt herself to be.
     Someone was standing behind her. She turned, startled, and found  herself
staring at a distant reflection of herself. Only it wasn't her  at  all.  This
person had scars across her forehead. Reaching up,  she  realized  she  didn't
carry any such scars. The only scars she carried were the ones  on  her  arms,
and they felt completely different. Her reflection's scars stood  out  boldly,
proudly, and had been carved into the flesh with purpose. Hers, on  the  other
hand, were a product of anger and an intense desire to remove something  she'd
thought she had seen lurking beneath her skin...
     "There's nowhere left to run," the ghostly reflection said.
     In the distance came the howl of the lizard beast.
     "Not for you, either," she pointed out.
     Despite obvious effort to hide it, there was fear behind the reflection's
gaze.
     "Why do you want to hurt me?" she asked it.
     "Because you want to hurt me." "I want to be left alone! I want  only  to
be free!" "As do I." "But  I  belong  here!"  The  reflection  surveyed  their
surroundings, then faced her again, "As  do  I."  The  howl  of  the  creature
sounded again, louder this time, and closer.
     "It can smell us," the reflection said. "It can smell my fear, and it can
smell your guilt." "I have nothing to feel guilty for." "No,  you  don't.  And
yet there it is, nonetheless." She looked into  herself,  then,  and  saw  the
guilt of which the reflection spoke. It had always been there, she  knew;  she
just hadn't wanted to see it. But now the amorphous and neglected emotion took
shape, forming into words that rose in her thoughts, in  her  throat,  finally
demanding release: Why am I alive when the one I love is dead?
     And with this came a deafening roar from the lizard creature.  It  was  a
roar of anger, of remorse, and of regret; it was a bellow  whose  echo  called
back to her out of the dark over and over again, fading  each  time  until  it
became little more than a far-off whisper, a distant speck in the dark...
     Tahiri... Tahiri...
     "Tahiri?" The hand shaking her shoulder did more to dispel the dream than
the sound of her own name  being  spoken.  She  blinked,  then  looked  around
vaguely at her surroundings. The walls so close around  her  seemed  small  in
comparison to the dreamscape she'd just left-so much more restricting.
     "Come on, kid-snap out of it." Han's voice was rough and hard,  like  the
hands shaking her. She looked at him through tear-stained  eyes  and  saw  his
worried and  fatigued  expression.  Leia  stepped  between  them,  her  gentle
features smiling reassuringly at Tahiri.
     "Are you okay?" she asked.
     "I'm awake," the girl mumbled hazily. Then, realizing she hadn't answered
the question, she nodded and added: "I think I'm  all  right."  Her  head  was
pounding, and the harsh light felt like a naked sun burning into her eyes. She
winced, blinking back more tears as she tried to sit  up.  She  felt  strange,
confused-and this confusion was only magnified when she  saw  where  she  was:
lying on the bed in Han and Leia's suite.
     "What happened?" she asked. Even as she spoke the  words,  she  knew  the
answer: the same thing thai happened before, on Galantos  and  elsewhere.  The
illusion of ignorance was her only defense. "What am I doing here?" "You don't
remember?" Leia asked.
     Both of Anakin's parents were standing over her, dressed in  their  night
robes.
     "I-" she started. How could she tell them  the  truth  when  she  herself
wasn't even sure what it was? "I was looking for something." Leia held out the
silver pendant. Its many-tentacled, snarling visage seemed to  mock  her  from
its cradle of soft, human flesh. "You were looking  for  this,  weren't  you?"
Tahiri nodded, embarrassed. "It-it calls to  me.  It  reminds  me  of..."  She
trailed off, unable to put what she was feeling into words.
     "Of who you are?" Leia suggested.
     The words seemed to stab a sharp pain in her mind, to which she responded
with anger. "I know who I am! I'm Tahiri Veila!" Leia crouched down beside the
bed to look up into the girl's face. Tahiri didn't want to meet her eyes,  but
the Princess was hard to resist. "Are you?" she  asked  in  a  low,  searching
tone. "You don't seem like the Tahiri I once  knew."  "What  are  you  talking
about, Leia?" Han said, looking  equal  parts  exasperated  and  tired.  "What
exactly is going on here?" "Sometimes I think we forget what happened  to  her
on Yavin Four, Han." Leia kept her warm, reassuring  eyes  on  Tahiri  as  she
spoke. Then she stood and addressed her husband fully. "The Yuuzhan  Vong  did
something terrible to her while she was in their hands—something we can't even
begin to understand. They tried to turn her into something other  than  human.
You don't just get over that easily. It takes time." "But I  thought  she  was
given the okay. Wasn't that why she was invited to join us on  this  mission?"
The two kept talking, but Tahiri had stopped listening. Although  he  probably
didn't mean it, there was a suggestion of mistrust in  Han's  words  that  was
hurtful to her, and for a brief moment she felt overwhelmed by  grief—a  grief
that was exacerbated by the way Anakin's parents kept talking about her in the
third person, as if she weren't even there. It made her feel strangely removed
from what was taking place around her...
     "I wasn't asleep," Leia was saying to Han in response to  something  he'd
said. "Jaina told me what Jag found on Galantos; I  was  expecting  Tahiri  to
come for it. That's why I instructed Cakhmain  and  Meewalh  to  stay  out  of
sight—to let Tahiri come for the pendant." As she said this, Leia gestured off
to one side, and for the first time,  Tahiri  noticed  the  Princess's  Noghri
guards standing there.
     Han sighed. "I still would have preferred it if you'd told  me  what  was
going on." "There was no need, Han. I wanted to see what  would  happen."  "So
what's causing this?" he asked. "You think it might be Anakin?" Leia shook her
head. "It's more than that; much more.
     She's hiding something—from  herself  as  well  as  everyone  else."  The
accusation stabbed at Tahiri's heart, making her jump to her  feet.  "How  can
you say that?" she cried, taking a step forward. But a single step was all she
managed before Cakhmain moved to stop her, taking Tahiri by the  shoulders  to
hold her back from Leia. She wriggled in his slender hands but couldn't  break
free. "I would never hurt either of you!  You're—"  She  stopped,  remembering
Jacen's note back on Mon Calamari. "You're my family."  Han  stepped  over  to
her, then, taking her hands. "Hey, take it easy, kid." He wiped at  the  fresh
tears on her cheek with the back of  his  hand.  "No  one's  accusing  you  of
anything, Tahiri. Just relax, okay?" She did so, feeling oddly calmed  by  the
large man's rough but friendly voice. She saw Leia motion to her Noghri guard,
who immediately released Tahiri and retreated to the shadows.
     Leia came forward. "I'm sorry, Tahiri.  I  didn't  mean  to  upset  you."
Tahiri didn't know what to say—she felt foolish and ashamed at her outburst—so
in the end just nodded her acceptance  of  the  Princess's  apology  and  said
nothing.
     "Tell me, though, Tahiri," Leia said. "Do you have any idea  what's  been
going on in your head these last couple of years?" "I-I—sometimes I black out,
" Tahiri stammered awkwardly. "I have these... dreams that—"  "That  tell  you
you're somebody else?" Leia offered.
     This brought her up defensive again. "My name is Tahiri Veila! That's who
I am!" Leia took Tahiri's shoulders in her hands and looked the  girl  in  the
face with her penetrating brown eyes. "I know this isn't easy, Tahiri. But you
must try to understand. I want you to think back to just  before  you  blacked
out. Do you remember what I said to you?"  Tahiri  thought  about  this.  "You
called my name." Leia looked over to Han.
     "What?" Tahiri said, angered by the  almost  conspiratorial  looks  being
exchanged between them.  "You  did  call  my  name!  I  heard  you!"  Sympathy
shimmered in Leia's eyes. "I didn't call you by your name,  Tahiri.  I  called
you Riina." A feeling as cold as ice spread across Tahiri's shoulders and  ran
down her back in a horrible,  clammy  rush.  At  the  same  time,  a  terrible
blackness rose up in her mind, threatening to engulf her. "No,"  she  mumbled,
shaking her head slowly and fighting the feeling. "That's not  true."  "It  is
true, Tahiri. Before, when you blacked out, you were shouting at me in Yuuzhan
Vong. You were calling me something that not even Threepio  could  understand.
You weren't Tahiri, then." She paused  uncomfortably  before  pronouncing  the
terrible truth. "You were Riina of Domain Kwaad, the personality  that  Mezhan
Kwaad tried to turn you into. Somehow, the Riina personality is  still  inside
you." Tahiri shook her head again, more vigorously this time, wanting to  deny
the spreading darkness as much as the words themselves. "It—it can't be  true.
It just can't be!" "It is, Tahiri," Leia said. "Believe me. And the sooner you
accept that, the sooner we can start doing—" "No!" Tahiri screamed in a  pitch
that surprised herself as much as it obviously did Leia, who took a step  back
at the outburst.
     As though a dam had burst, she was suddenly  in  motion.  With  the  full
strength of the Force flowing through her, fueled by her desperation  and  her
need to escape, she snatched the pendant as she pushed past Leia and  Han  and
headed for the door—too quick  for  even  Cakhmain  to  grab  her.  C-3PO  was
standing on the other side of the door when she went through, but  she  didn't
even give him time to utter a single word of objection; she  just  shoved  him
aside as hard as she could, throwing the golden droid clean off his  feet  and
into the wall. Then she was through the door and out of the suite, running  as
if her very life depended on it.
     She saw nothing but corridors flashing by, and could feel nothing but the
cool pendant of Yun-Yammka against her palm, grinning in vile satisfaction.
     And somewhere beyond the sound of her own sobbing, she could hear a  name
being called. That she couldn't be sure the name even belonged to her made her
cry that much harder, and run that much faster.
     Jag listened intently as Han and Leia detailed the incident  with  Tahiri
over the secure subspace channel. The two sounded exhausted, which was  hardly
surprising given what they'd just been through—and the fact that it was  still
the middle of the night where they were probably wasn't helping, either.
     "She didn't hurt anyone, did she?" Jag asked.
     "No," Leia said. "And I don't believe  she  would  have,  either."  "What
about the Riina personality?" There was some hesitation from  the  other  end.
"We're more concerned about what she'll do to herself than what she  might  do
to others," Leia said firmly.
     "So where is she now?" "She ran off," Leia said.
     "And we haven't heard from her since," Han put in wearily. "Poor kid  was
in quite a state when she left." Jag acknowledged his frustration at being too
far away to be of any direct help with a sigh. "Have you notified security  on
the ground?" "And tell them what?" Han asked. "That there's a lone Jedi on the
loose who's possibly under the control of a Yuuzhan Vong mind? That'll  really
go down well with the authorities." "They'd probably lock the lot of  us  up,"
Leia said. "Anyway, it's not an option. But she  does  need  to  be  found—and
soon. I don't like the idea of her being alone while she's trying to deal with
this. She needs our help right  now."  Jag  shook  his  head.  "I  just  don't
understand how this could have happened. From what I understood, she was  over
her experiences on Yavin Four." "So we  all  thought,"  Leia  said.  "But  her
conditioning went deep. She could speak the  Yuuzhan  Vong  language  and  fly
their ships; and there were moments when Anakin himself said  that  she  acted
strangely. But outwardly she seemed okay; she appeared to be  holding  herself
together." "But then Anakin died," Han  said,  "and  that  must  have  changed
everything." Jag could hear the echoes of the  still-painful  grief  in  Han's
words. He seemed to steel himself against the emotion as he carried  on  with:
"And if this Riina personality is still with the  kid,  then  we  have  to  do
something about it." Jag agreed, but he knew  it  wasn't  going  to  be  easy.
Tahiri could have been anywhere by now, and if she was as panicked as Han  and
Leia said she was, then she probably wasn't going to want to  be  found  in  a
hurry. While Leia was probably right in  that  Tahiri  wouldn't  hurt  anyone,
Tahiri might see things differently. Without any control over when  the  Riina
personality emerges, she may see herself as being a threat to her friends  and
want to keep away for fear of causing them any harm...
     "What bothers me, though, Jag," Leia went on,  "is  that  you  and  Jaina
suspected something was  wrong  and  yet  you  kept  it  to  yourselves."  Jag
swallowed, wishing it were Jaina, not him, fielding the question.
     Leia had every right to be upset, of course. After he had shown Jaina the
pendant that Tahiri had found back on Galantos, the two of them had  discussed
what they should do about the young girl. Clearly she was  finely  attuned  to
anything Yuuzhan Vong; and just as clearly there were moments when  the  alien
personality rose up and tried to take over. However, the girl  was  a  trained
Jedi, and they felt she should be given the chance to solve the problem on her
own. It had never been their intention to keep Han and Leia out  of  the  loop
indefinitely, and neither had imagined that anything could go wrong as long as
one of them was close at hand to keep an eye on her.
     "I'm sorry," he said shortly. "But we really didn't expect anything  like
this to happen." "Well, it did," Han said. "And if Leia hadn't suspected  that
something was up, things could have  gotten  quite  ugly  down  here."  "Well,
again, I'm sorry," Jag said. "Where is Jaina? She was supposed to  be  looking
out for Tahiri while you were all down on Bakura." "Jaina hasn't returned  yet
from interviewing Malinza Thanas," Leia replied. If there was any concern  for
her daughter, the Princess was hiding it well.
     "She still hasn't reported in?" Jag had been apprised of Jaina's  mission
when he'd first come on duty. "But it's hours past midnight  down  there.  She
should have been back by now." "We know, "Han said.
     Jag felt his fists clench at this news. He wished again that he were down
on the surface where he could do more good. "Maybe I should ask  Captain  Mayn
to send a shuttle with backup and—" "No," Leia interrupted. "I have  faith  in
Jaina; if she needs assistance, then she'll be in touch. Wherever she is,  I'm
sure—" An alarm sounded from the console, cutting off the  last  part  of  her
sentence.
     "Hang on a second," Jag said. "I have another call coming  through  on  a
separate channel." He flipped a switch  to  hear  the  incoming  message.  "Go
ahead." "Colonel Fel, we have contacts emerging  from  hyper-space  in  Sector
Eleven." The voice belonged to Selwin Markota, Pride of  Selonia's  second  in
command.
     Jag forced the problems on Bakura to the back of his mind.  His  duty  as
squadron leader took precedence for the moment over his concerns for Jaina and
Tahiri. "How many?" "Thirty, with more  on  the  way;  at  least  two  capital
vessels so far. It looks like a fleet." "Have they contacted Bakura?" "They're
being hailed now. I'll patch you into the defense fleet net." "Copy that." Jag
flicked back to the secure channel. "I'm sorry, Leia, Han, but I have to  go."
"We just got the call, too," Leia responded crisply. "We'll let  you  know  if
anything changes." "Flights A and B," Jag said on the  Twin  Sun  frequencies,
"stay here and mind the big bird.  C,  you're  with  me."  He  peeled  out  of
formation and was followed by two X-wings and  a  clawcraft.  On  the  scanner
before him, the ships emerging from hyperspace stood out like a nebula in  the
deep void. The number of contacts now stood at forty, with still more coming.
     "This is Bakuran  Defense  Fleet,"  called  the  local  traffic  control.
"Please identify yourself and state your intentions." The response came in the
form of a warbling, dissonant fluting.
     REFUGEE 159 Jag had  been  briefed;  he  knew  enough  to  recognize  the
language. The fleet had originated from Lwhekk—but who was commanding it?  The
Ssi-ruuk or the P'w'eck?
     The voice of C-3PO came over the comm. "The  message  says:  'I  come  in
peace, people of Bakura, to consecrate this world and bond our two cultures in
alliance.' " Another  voice  spoke  from  Bakura  in  response  to  this.  Jag
recognized it as belonging to Prime Minister Cundertol.
     "We welcome the Keeramak to Bakura in the hope that this  new  friendship
will bring prosperity and enlightenment to all." The sickly sentiment made Jag
roll his eyes. Luckily the speeches didn't last any longer than that.
     "Keeramak Entourage, please assume the following orbits," the first voice
from Bakura said. There followed a long list of requests designed to  minimize
the disruption caused by the many new arrivals, at the end of which there came
a brief burst of alien song,  which  C-3PO  interpreted  to  mean,  simply,  "
'Understood.'  "  Jag  turned  his  interception  flight  into   a   sweeping,
exploratory cruise, examining the alien vessels with a critical eye. The Chiss
had fought the Ssi-ruuk on several occasions, contributing behind  the  scenes
to the Imperium's retreat at the advance of  the  New  Republic.  He  himself,
though, had never seen one outside of a simulation. While their battle  droids
consisted of simple, angular pyramids with weapon and sensor  arrays  at  each
corner, the larger  ships  possessed  a  smoothly  organic  appearance.  Great
sweeping  hulls  with  relatively  few  breaks  formed   bulbous,   shell-like
structures that bulged in odd but beautiful ways. He spotted two ovoid Sh'ner-
class planetary assault carriers, accompanied by numerous Fw'Sen-class  picket
ships. The assault carriers were crewed by more than five hundred P'w'eck—plus
over three hundred en-teched droids, if they were still used—and  were  nearly
750 meters long. Overall, given their  structure,  they  displaced  a  greater
volume than a Victory-class Star Destroyer.
     It seemed an awful lot of hardware to accompany a diplomatic mission. But
then, he supposed, the P'w'eck were probably just as nervous of  the  Bakurans
as the Bakurans were of them. With their freedom only recently attained,  they
wouldn't be keen to send  their  leader  into  the  middle  of  a  potentially
difficult situation without sufficient backup.
     At least they weren't shy about sharing their battle data, though. On the
screen before him, names rapidly  appeared  next  to  all  the  major  P'w'eck
vessels. The cruiser in the middle of the formation was called the  Firrinree,
while the one lagging slightly  behind  was  designated  the  Errinung'ka.  He
didn't even bother to attempt to remember the names of the picket ships.
     As he watched, the last of the stragglers arrived and the formation broke
in three to assume the orbits given them by the  Bakuran  Defense  Fleet.  The
maneuver was accomplished smoothly and without fuss—and that spoke  loudly  of
the discipline and flexibility  of  the  P'w'eck  fleet.  One  thing  was  for
certain: they might be new to the  idea  of  being  in  charge  of  their  own
destiny, but the P'w'eck had been  exhaustively  trained  by  their  Ssi-ruuvi
masters to fly battleships. It showed.
     He hung around the main chunk of the fleet long enough to follow security
negotiations with the reception team on the ground, and to witness the  launch
of seven heavily armed D'kee-class landing ships. The  Keera-mak  was  on  its
way.
     Jag only hoped that Bakura was ready for it.


     PART THREE AGGRESSION

     The warm, dry air of the library was making Saba's scales itchy, and  she
scratched absently at them while  skimming  through  one  of  the  many  books
suggested by Tris. She barely noticed the discomfort,  however;  her  thoughts
were too focused on the information she was  reading.  It  surprised  her  how
effortlessly she had taken  to  this  form  of  research.  When  they'd  first
started, she had thought she'd never get  used  to  the  turning  of  pages—it
seemed so time-consuming! And yet now she was skimming through the books  with
an ease and confidence similar to that with which skotcarp lizards  back  home
would skate down the shaley slopes of Mount Ste'vshuulsz.
     "Found anything yet?" Saba looked up to see Mara peering at her from  the
end of an aisle of towering bookcases. She shook her head with some apology as
she closed the book she'd been browsing through. She'd been reading  up  on  a
world on the outer edge of the Unknown Regions where a species of stilt-legged
insects lived in a densely oxygenated atmosphere. Their  legends  spoke  of  a
fire god who burst out of the planet's core every three years  to  burn  large
swaths of their world to the ground, initiating  a  new  cycle  of  death  and
rebirth. But as interesting as it was, it didn't help their search. There  was
nothing about mysterious planets appearing in the sky anywhere in the text.
     "This one has found nothing," she replied.
     Mara nodded. "None of us has, unfortunately.  I  guess  we're  all  still
trying to come to grips with these books. It's frustratingly slow." "It  would
be slower still if not in Basic. Our persistence will pay off," Saba told her.
"It alwayz does." Mara smiled, then moved  off  in  the  direction  of  Danni;
probably, Saba thought, to check on the young scientist's progress also.
     Saba pushed the book she'd been reading to one side and took another from
the stack that Tris had supplied.  Another  species,  another  dead  end.  She
didn't mind, though. She was reveling in the diversity of life in the  Unknown
Regions. The search was a far cry from any of her previous duties as  a  Jedi,
and in many ways she knew it could turn out to be one of the  most  difficult,
given the amount of material they had to work through. But she also knew  that
finding the data itself would probably  turn  out  to  be  the  easiest  part;
examining it and determining if it was relevant or not would undoubtedly  take
a lot longer.
     Two books later, it was time  to  get  up  and  stretch.  Her  eyes  were
starting to ache from reading, and her back was stiff and sore. Seeking a  new
list, she loped through the narrow aisles to the center of the vast room, from
where the voices of Jacen and the others came. Luke and Mara  looked  up  from
three massive piles of books as she approached. They had conscripted a massive
snow-wood table for their use; broad and square, it was easily large enough to
seat twenty people. Datapads lay scattered before them, into which fragmentary
notes had been entered. Lieutenant Stalgis emerged from  one  of  the  aisles,
staggering under yet another stack of books. No one could be spared  from  the
effort. The only person missing was, ironically, the one who would  have  been
the most fascinated by it all: Soron Hegerty. Worn out  from  the  episode  on
Munlali Mafir, the doctor had elected to wait out this mission  to  the  Chiss
from orbit. But she was still there in spirit, and her voice  could  often  be
heard issuing from comlinks, requesting more data in annoyed tones.
     "Look at this," Luke announced, holding up a  book  before  him  for  the
others to see. Saba leaned over Jacen's and Mara's shoulders. While  the  bulk
of the text had been translated into Basic, there were still porti6ns  in  the
native Cheunh that demanded assistance from the librarian.  Saba  concentrated
to make sense of the words before her.
     The pages Luke had opened to showed the location and history of  a  world
called Yashuvhu. It had been settled by humans some  three  thousand  standard
years earlier, but had only recently encountered the Chiss. A  quick  scan  of
the pages revealed no reference to any wandering planets, although there was a
description of  an  ancient  woman  called  the  Prophetess  who  oversaw  the
spiritual development of the colony. This woman taught that there was a living
energy field pervading and connecting all things, which, when tapped  into  in
the correct way... "She's talking about the Force," Mara said. "I  think  so,"
Luke said. "Look." He opened to a page containing pictures of the  Prophetess,
whose real name, it turned out, was Valara Saar. It showed a woman of advanced
years in a state  of  excellent  preservation.  The  Chiss  contact  team  had
attempted to visit  her  home  in  the  Yashaka  Mountains,  but  they'd  been
repelled. No one, it seemed, came to the Prophetess's retreat uninvited.
     The images were sketchily drawn  and  portrayed  the  chaos  of  a  hasty
retreat, but one thing was plain to see. "She's wielding a lightsaber!"  Jacen
exclaimed. "It looks very much like it," Luke agreed, displaying  a  bit  more
calm than his excited nephew. "How long haz she been there?" Saba asked.
     "The records don't say," Mara said. "But if she was trained as  a  child,
it could be decades." "Either that or she found a Holocron," Jacen suggested.
     "Let's not jump to any hasty conclusions," Luke said. "Strictly speaking,
this isn't what we're here to look for." Nevertheless, he had dived deep  into
the information on Yashuvhu and the Prophetess. Saba noted  other  books  open
around him, all tracing the same topic. The woman herself had not  deigned  to
speak to the Chiss landing party, but many of her acolytes  had.  The  records
contained a list of her primary  teachings:  patience,  humility,  compassion,
clarity of thought,  balance  between  physical  and  mental  prowess,  strict
observance of diet, and, lastly, a solitary lifestyle. In all the  years  that
Valara Saar had been teaching the people of Yashuvhu, they had never known her
to take a mate, so she never had any children.  In  fact,  her  only  constant
companion was a creature called a duuvhal, which she had raised from a pup.
     "Hey, I think I've found something!" All attention shifted to Danni,  who
emerged from an aisle clutching a very large book. Beneath the overhang of her
unkempt hair, there was excitement in her eyes as she placed the book  heavily
on the table and flicked through some pages.
     "See: here, and here..." Saba and the others  looked  to  where  she  was
pointing. The young scientist had found a reference to an asteroid  belt  that
had been perturbed by recent tidal forces. Millions of chunks of rock  ranging
in size from grains of dust to giant boulders had been knocked out of orbit by
something very large within the last three decades. That in itself  wasn't  so
unusual; solar systems were frequently unstable, with planets drifting in from
interstellar space, wandering across orbits, or leaving at the whim of chaotic
perturbations. What made this one unique was a record made by the civilization
on an inner world before their atmosphere clouded. More  than  a  dozen  large
rocks had impacted on the planet, rendering it uninhabitable.
     The ruins contained murals depicting a new star in the  sky—a  blue-green
star that had appeared one summer as though out of nowhere,  then  disappeared
half a year later. Its appearance had triggered a terrible religious war  that
had seen one entire nation subjugated  and  another  reduced  to  rubble.  The
victors had celebrated the star's visit. But their  celebrations  had  quickly
turned to mourning as first fire rained from the sky, and  then  the  new  sun
vanished. Within two generations, they'd been reduced to savagery.
     "Another fleeting visit, another violent  culture,"  Mara  said,  cutting
through the silence. "The correlation gets stronger." "I see no evidence  that
Zonama Sekot is deliberately trying to harm the people it comes across,"  Luke
said thoughtfully.
     "Nevertheless," Mara said, "this is  what  it's  doing."  "Inadvertently,
perhaps," Luke  said.  "Not  deliberately."  "Maybe  it  just  isn't  thinking
straight," Stalgis suggested.
     "Or wasn't thinking straight," Jacen added. "This is  an  old  reference,
after all." "True," Luke said. "And until we  see  something  more  recent,  I
don't think we can judge it." Saba realized only then that  Luke  was  warring
within himself over Zonama Sekot. Something  as  powerful  as  an  intelligent
planet might just as easily be influenced to do evil as it could to  do  good.
So even if they did find it, the Galactic Alliance would still have to  decide
whether or not to  trust  it.  Any  evidence  to  suggest  that  it  had  been
responsible for destroying a civilization—inadvertently or not—would be viewed
unfavorably.
     "Good work, Danni," Luke said. "And that goes for  everyone.  It  may  be
slow, but we are making progress." Obtaining  another  list  from  Tris,  Saba
followed Danni back into the maze of books.
     "You know, Saba," the young human scientist said, "I think we've got  the
easiest job here. Have you ever tried to extrapolate star maps from  the  sort
of old sketches  we're  finding  here?  It's  almost  impossible!"  "This  one
suspectz that'z the idea," Saba responded, sissing deep in her throat.
     Danni pulled out a book on a new system near the one Saba was  exploring.
It was a long way from any of the other known contact regions. If  they  found
something there, that would suggest that Zonama Sekot's search  for  a  hiding
place had ranged extensively across the Unknown Regions. If it had followed  a
random search pattern, then a clear trail might not even  exist,  which  meant
that no amount of searching here would help them find it. She  had  to  assume
that this wasn't the case—otherwise there was no real point in even trying.
     Worlds upon worlds upon  worlds...  Saba  ranged  among  the  records  of
civilizations dead, thriving, or newly born. There were a thousand new species
to examine, but time didn't allow her to linger too long on any of  them;  she
could only touch fleetingly upon each, skimming  over  their  aspirations  and
philosophies like a pebble across a pond.
     "Be sure to take a break if you need to," Luke said  the  next  time  she
returned for another list of books. "You've certainly all  earned  it."  "That
might not be a bad idea, actually," Jacen put in, eyeing the towers  of  books
building on the table. "You and Danni have been searching for  six  hours.  We
have plenty of data to pore over while you rest." Saba was  speechless  for  a
moment. Six hours? It didn't feel anywhere near that  long.  It  had  been  so
pleasant to be apart from the world, to forget her own troubles for  a  while.
Now that she thought about it, though, she could feel her body's fatigue.  Her
tail was as limp and lifeless as the trail of Zonama Sekot itself.
     She shook her head.
     "Time iz passing," she said, picking up the next list.  "And  hunting  iz
this one'z specialty." Then, with the scent of old books and cold trails  rich
in her nostrils, she resumed her patient, determined prowl of the data.
     Jaina kept her head low as she followed Malinza across  the  flat,  tiled
rooftop.
     "Are you sure you know where you're going?" she asked after a while.
     "Positive." The escapee didn't look  over  her  shoulder  to  reply,  nor
slacken her pace. "This way." Malinza sidetracked to the  edge  of  the  roof,
jumping off without hesitation into space. Jaina hurried to the same  spot  in
time to see Malinza land heavily on another rooftop two floors below.  Despite
her growing reservations, she followed easily with a similar leap.
     Salis D'aar from the air had seemed a lot  more  sophisticated  than  the
side of it she was seeing now. Its weblike radial layout and high  towers  had
reminded her of many other affluent colony worlds she'd  visited.  On  Bakura,
the beginnings of rot had seeped in at basement level,  with  the  high  water
table and humidity attacking steel-crete and other  preventives  directly,  or
encouraging plant life to grow around and into it. The cultural  unwillingness
to use droids meant that menial repair work often went undone.  Since  fleeing
the penitentiary, she had become quite familiar with the  sort  of  decay  the
city was capable of. The farther she went out from the center of the city, the
more unattractive  it  became.  The  paint  jobs  were  rougher,  the  streets
themselves were considerably grubbier, and fewer repulsors meant  that  things
like street-lamps, vehicles, or buildings didn't float. It was almost

     like an entirely different  world  than  the  one  she'd  initially  been
introduced to.
     Jaina maintained Malinza's pace perfectly, staying  half  a  dozen  steps
behind at all times. She wasn't trying to catch up; watching the  girl's  back
was her priority right now. This whole escape had been way too easy,  and  her
tingling senses were screaming for her to  keep  her  eyes  peeled.  Her  only
consolation was that their route through the city had been far too  convoluted
for anyone to follow.
     They descended a stairwell to the third floor of the building. There they
climbed through a window and went handover-hand along a dead power line to yet
another building. This one appeared as if it had been  empty  since  the  Ssi-
ruuvi invasion. Its outer shell held empty offices and  reception  areas;  the
interior was a giant atrium filled with tropical plants gone wild. The faceted
roof far above consisted of dirty transparisteel that seemed as though it  had
been designed to let the sun in during the day and open at night, although  it
obviously hadn't done so for a long time. The opening mechanism had long since
turned to rust, and now, apart from a narrow slit through which the rain crept
in, it remained permanently closed.
     Malinza stopped briefly  at  a  balcony  on  the  second  floor,  quickly
checking on Jaina. She was about to continue when Jaina  grabbed  her  by  the
shoulder and held her back. Malinza faced  her,  confused,  and  Jaina  put  a
finger to her lips to indicate that she should  remain  still.  The  sense  of
walking into a trap was stronger here than ever.
     The only noises she could hear were dripping sounds from within the dense
vegetation at the heart of  the  building.  If  Bakuran  security  forces  had
managed to follow them, then they were being exceptionally stealthy about  it.
Still, she had more than just  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  Bakuran  security
weren't the only threat awaiting them.
     From above her in the trees, Jaina heard a soft click. In an instant  her
lightsaber was out.  With  her  free  hand  she  pushed  Malinza  behind  her,
protecting her from any attack.
     "She's fast." Jaina squinted into the trees, but she  couldn't  make  out
the owner of the voice.
     "Who is she?" "Look at the lightsaber," replied another. "She's a  Jedi."
"One lightsaber against  three  blaster  rifles,"  returned  the  first.  "She
couldn't be that fast." "Just try me  and  find  out,"  Jaina  challenged  the
voices, tightening her grip on her  lightsaber  while  pinpointing  the  exact
location of the voices in the trees. There were three  of  them  at  different
heights, two male and one female. A subtle movement of  the  leaves  suggested
that perhaps there was a fourth slightly higher, silent for now.  The  leader,
perhaps?
     Whatever, she thought. A quick tug of the branches with the  Force  would
soon bring them down.
     "It's okay," Malinza said, taking a step forward  so  she  stood  between
Jaina and those in the trees. "At least I think she's okay,  anyway."  "What's
she doing here, Malinza?" "I brought her."  Malinza  faced  Jaina.  "It's  all
right. You can put your weapon  down.  This  is  Freedom."  Jaina  reluctantly
relaxed her posture, deactivating the lightsaber and dropping her hands to her
sides. She wasn't completely convinced everything was all right, but the  last
thing she wanted to do was give the rest of Malinza's  rebel  cell  the  wrong
impression.
     The mini forest rustled as leaves parted and three  people  emerged.  The
woman was striking, with the sides of her skull shaved and  the  remainder  of
her blond hair tied back in a whiplike ponytail. The man nearest  to  her  was
dressed in a tatty security uniform about two sizes too big;  his  brown  hair
was wild and he looked as though he hadn't shaved in a week. The third  was  a
Rodian, his green skin blending almost perfectly with the foliage.
     "This is Jaina Solo," Malinza told them.
     Jaina acknowledged them with a curt nod,  glancing  uneasily  toward  the
tree for a glimpse of the fourth person  she  suspected  to  be  still  hiding
there.
     "And what is it, exactly, that Jaina Solo wants?" the blond-haired  woman
asked.
     "There's something going on here, on Bakura," Jaina replied for  Malinza.
"I'd like to find out what it is." "You mean something other than the  usual?"
the human male asked. "The exploitation of the weak by the powerful, the  rape
of natural resources, the corruption of innocents—"  "Easy,  Zel,"  the  blond
said. "Let's not scare her away before we've heard  everything  she's  got  to
say." "Be mindful, Jjorg," the Rodian said in a  rasping  voice.  "A  Jedi  is
likely to put things into a mind as open as yours." "That only  works  on  the
weak-minded," Jaina said. "Besides which, I'm not here to  brainwash  anyone."
"And we're just supposed to take your word on  that?"  "Hey,  that's  enough,"
Malinza said firmly. "Where's Vyram, Jjorg? I need  to  talk  to  him."  "He's
lurking about somewhere," Zel said. "As usual." "I suspect that's  him  up  in
the trees over there," Jaina said, pointing to where she suspected the  fourth
person to be hiding.
     A short laugh escaped from the greenery. "You have good eyes, Jedi," said
a voice. "If that is indeed what you're using." The leaves  parted  again  and
the fourth person emerged. He was a rakishly thin, black-haired male  who  was
perhaps a little older than Jaina. His cheekbones were promi-nent even beneath
a patchy beard, and his movements were sure in the treetop.
     "I've learned not to rely on my eyes alone," she responded.
     The man Malinza had described as the brains of  Freedom  smiled  faintly.
"Well, you come here with Malinza," he said. "That's enough  for  me,  at  the
moment." Jaina practically felt the spark that passed between the young  woman
at her side and the black-haired man in the tree, but neither of  them  openly
acknowledged any connection other than professional.
     "Take it down, Zel, so we can come aboard," Malinza  said.  "I'm  getting
tired of calling  out  to  you  from  down  here."  The  scruffy-haired  human
disappeared into the foliage. Jaina was shepherded toward a nearby  stairwell,
and as she descended, she  experienced  a  momentary  giddiness.  The  strange
sensation caused her to stop and grab hold of something to steady  herself—and
it was then that she realized that the forest she was standing in wasn't  what
it appeared to be. The entire area was an  artificial  construct  draped  with
vines and other plants, suspended in midair on a bed  of  Bakura's  ubiquitous
repulsors so a casual glance would miss it completely. She wondered if it  was
an existing structure that Freedom had found and occupied,  or  one  they  had
slowly built up so as not to attract attention. From this distance, there  was
no real way of telling.
     By the time she and Malinza reached the ground floor,  the  base  of  the
structure was at arm's length above their  heads.  It  wasn't  a  particularly
elegant arrangement, resembling nothing more than several  large,  rectangular
freight containers joined and surrounded by numerous layers of scaffold tubing
and heavy cables, with pots and lattices for the plants covering  it,  but  it
did make for an effective disguise. Jaina glimpsed  dark  spaces  within,  and
ladders leading higher up still.
     Malinza reached up to grab one of the horizontal bars hanging  over  them
and hauled herself into the dense canopy. Clipping  her  lightsaber  onto  her
belt, Jaina did the same. With a groan, the structure  ascended  back  to  its
original position, leaving the floor some distance below.
     Jjorg and Salkeli, the  Rodian,  were  at  the  entrance  to  the  lowest
container and helped Malinza inside. No such assistance was offered to  Jaina;
she had to manage by herself—which  she  did  without  difficulty.  Vyram  was
waiting inside the container, seated in a corner on a packing crate.
     "Welcome to the Stack," he said to Jaina with a sweep of his arm to  take
in his surroundings. "It's not much, but it's all we have, I'm afraid." "Where
are the others?" Malinza asked him.
     "Scattered about,"  he  replied.  "Or  out  on  patrol."  His  dark  eyes
glistened in a faint electrical light. "Things have been... difficult."  "Your
arrest really had us worried," Salkeli said.
     "Not me, though," Zel said, dropping into the container through a hole in
the roof. "I'm cool." "Yeah," Jjorg scoffed. "About as cool as a  red  dwarf."
Malinza ignored both of them. "I'm sure the others will come  back  when  word
spreads that I'm out." "And I presume this one had something to do  with  your
escape," Salkeli said.
     "Jaina? Actually, I'd assumed it was you, Vyram."  The  black-haired  man
shook his head. "I tried, but the defenses were way too tight. I was going  to
have another  go  at  it  tomorrow,  when  everyone's  attention  was  on  the
consecration." Malinza frowned. " If it wasn't you, then who was it?" "One  of
the other groups, perhaps," Vyram  said.  He  shrugged.  "Or  someone  on  the
inside. A sympathetic  guard,  maybe."  "Or  someone  sympathetic  higher  up,
perhaps," Jaina mused.
     "How do you mean?" Malinza asked.
     "Cundertol didn't believe you were guilty," Jaina answered.  "So  if  you
were framed and there was nothing official he could  do  about  it,  maybe  he
decided to at least try to make escape easier for you." "The Prime  Minister?"
Zel looked more unnerved than he was before. He used a short laugh to hide it.
"No way! That would just be too bizarre."  "It's  not  important  right  now,"
Vyram said. "I'm just glad that we have you back." Again Jaina sensed a  surge
of something more than just respect between Vyram  and  the  young  leader  of
Freedom. "She's not out of the woods yet," she  said.  "Remember,  Malinza  is
still a fugitive—regardless of who helped her.  She'll  have  to  stay  hidden
until we can find out who really  kidnapped  Cundertol."  "I've  been  digging
around," Vyram said, "but none of the data I've come across has  revealed  any
clues." "Would it be possible for me to see that data?" Jaina asked.
     The young man glanced uncertainly at Malinza, who nodded. "Come on, then,
" he said, standing.  "I  hope  you're  not  afraid  of  heights,  though.  My
workshop's at the very top of the Stack." "I'm sure I can handle myself." With
a crooked smile, Vyram hauled himself up through the hole  in  the  container,
and Jaina and the others followed. From there it was up  ladders  and  through
other boxy room-spaces for another fifteen meters to  the  very  apex  of  the
interior jungle, where Vyram's workspace balanced on top of  the  rebel  heap.
Jaina had no doubts that the Stack was structurally sound,  otherwise  Freedom
wouldn't have used it as a base in the first place,  but  her  instincts  were
telling her otherwise. Any  sudden  movements  made  the  upper  reaches  sway
unnervingly.
     "Pull up a seat," he said, indicating a  pile  of  empty  crates  in  one
corner. His own seat looked a lot more comfortable, consisting of  a  floating
orthopedically designed chair positioned  in  front  of  a  complex  array  of
computer screens and keyboards, many of  them  also  levitated  by  repulsors.
Jaina pulled up a crate, closely followed by  Malinza,  Zel,  and  Jjorg.  The
green-skinned Salkeli remained standing.
     Vyram brought the system to life. "I know it's not much,  but..."  "Given
your circumstances," Jaina said,  "I'm  quite  impressed."  She  noted  insect
fibers in the corner of the crate, and what appeared to be a bird's nest under
a desk. "You're actually patched into the planetary network from here? "  "Not
permanently. We've a holocomm up on the roof, but we only use it when we  need
direct access. It's less risky to get a link-up, take what we want, then trawl
through it afterward to see if we can find something interesting. That's  what
the system's doing at the moment.  Comm  scanners  flag  anything  that  looks
vaguely suspicious for me to check out later. If I need to, I go  back  in  to
find more." That made sense, Jaina thought. Illegal nodes on any network  were
difficult to trace, even if suspicions were aroused, but it wasn't impossible.
Accessing the planetary network  irregularly  would  certainly  make  it  more
difficult for anyone to pin down Freedom.
     "What have you found so far?" she asked. "Malinza  told  me  that  you've
uncovered evidence of corruption at a Senatorial  level.  You'd  be  naive  to
think that this is  anything  remarkable.  Every  government  I've  ever  seen
suffers from that to some degree or another—including my own."  Vyram  nodded.
"That's why we oppose the government  we  have.  There  has  to  be  a  strong
opposition to keep the Senate and Prime Minister honest.  They  might  try  to
shut us down, but we need to  be  here  for  the  Bakuran  people.  We're  the
planet's conscience." "You keep things in Balance," Jaina said.
     Malinza smiled. "Exactly." "But how do you finance yourselves?" she asked
again. " I can't imagine any of this setup would have been cheap."  "You'd  be
surprised." Vyram's smile was  full  of  pride.  "The  equipment  is  actually
secondhand or on loan, and the Stack was here already. We just adapted what we
found to our needs. It's a better strategy than becoming indebted  to  people,
don't you think?" "Our allies today could be our  enemies  tomorrow,"  Malinza
agreed. "You see, we're not naive, Jaina. The only way to be  truly  objective
is to stay independent." "I admire your efforts," Jaina  said,  speaking  with
absolute honesty. She might not have agreed with Freedom's goals  or  methods,
but the fact that its members had managed to stay out of serious  trouble  for
so long was in itself a remarkable  feat.  "But  something  has  changed.  The
obvious question is: what?" "The only thing we can think of is this."  Vyram's
hands flickered across the keyboards as  he  accessed  encrypted  memory.  "We
uncovered a secret leak of government funds  through  several  intermediaries.
The amounts were all different and  the  payments  weren't  regular,  but  our
software was sophisticated enough to spot and flag them." "Where did the money
leak to?" Vyram shook his head. "There's no information  about  that  at  this
end; whoever set up the leak was careful in that respect. Barely had we  begun
to dig when the communications blackout came down  on  us."  Jaina  had  heard
about the infamous cluster over the years, but her own  knowledge  was  scant.
Aunt Mara had entertained a younger Jaina with stories of  adventures  in  the
cluster with Talon Karrde—tales of pirates and outlaws and renegades. If  only
a small percentage of the stories she'd heard were true, then she had no doubt
that there were probably many places within the cluster  that  would  be  more
than happy to take credits from Bakura —  whether  it  was  stolen  government
money or not.
     "So you think this led to Malinza being arrested?" she asked.
     "What else could it be?" Vyram replied. "Nothing else we've found  is  as
big as this. I mean, we're talking millions of credits  here.  It  has  to  be
someone in government behind it, because no one  else  would  have  the  codes
needed to access those funds and set up the system of automatic payments  from
within. If word got out, the  scandal  would  be  huge."  "We're  guessing  we
tripped something when we sliced the data,"  Malinza  said.  "There  would  be
safeguards against detection. The person behind this must have  realized  that
we noticed the leaky funds. They acted immediately, before we put  together  a
strong enough case to go public. At the moment, we have no idea  who's  behind
it, or why." Vyram nodded glumly. "It conies down  to  our  word  against  the
government—and following Malinza's arrest, our  word  isn't  looking  so  good
anymore." "So you need a suspect," Jaina said, thinking quickly. "Someone high
up in the government. High enough to set the payments in place  and  to  order
the fake arrest." "Such as?" "What about Blaine Harris?" she suggested.  "He's
the one who told us about Malinza's arrest. And he's certainly  in  the  right
spot to do everything else." Malinza and Vyram exchanged  a  look  that  Jaina
couldn't interpret. Then Malinza shrugged. "It's  possible."  "I  can  have  a
closer look at his  records,"  Vyram  said,  hands  moving  again  across  his
equipment. "Let me patch into  the  network  and  I'll  see  if  we  can  find
something on him." This took Jaina back a  little.  "You've  sliced  into  the
Deputy Prime Minister's private files?" Vyram smiled  fleetingly  up  at  her.
"Give me a minute and I will have."  Jaina  looked  on  as  Vyram  closed  the
documents he had opened for her and set new programs running. His fingers were
quick and confident as he prepared the Stack's system for  connection  to  the
Bakura's planetary network. Jaina wasn't the  only  one  admiring  his  skill,
either. Malinza's face was practically glowing with admiration as  he  worked.
This quickly turned to concern, however,  when  a  series  of  warning  bleeps
issued from the board before them.
     Vyram frowned.
     "Problem?" Jaina asked.
     "I can't establish a link." He tried something  else,  but  received  the
same warning bleeps in response. "There seems to be some sort of interference.
" "Jamming?" "I don't think so. More likely it's a nearby signal swamping  the
microwave feed from the satellite. Let me see if I  can  tap  into  it."  Data
flashed across the screens as he switched rapidly from one program to another.
"Here, listen." A regular bleeping began to pulse from the network's speakers.
     "I know that sound," Zel said from behind them. "That's a homing beacon!"
The dynamic inside the Stack instantly changed, with everyone suddenly  rising
to their feet and facing Jaina.
     "So that's why my escape was so easy," Malinza said, advancing a pace.
     "Wait a minute!"  Jaina  protested,  but  was  quickly  shouted  down  by
Salkeli.
     "You led them right to us!" "She's  a  spy!"  Jjorg  said,  advancing  on
Jaina. "I say we kill her!" "Hold on," Vyram said, fiddling with the array  of
computers and adjusting a directional antenna. "She isn't the  source  of  the
transmission." "What?" Jjorg stopped in her  tracks  and  turned  to  look  at
Vyram. "Then where's it coming from?" Vyram pointed at Malinza.
     "Me?" The rebel leader's face went pale.
     Vyram checked the computers. "I'm  afraid  so,  Malinza.  The  signal  is
strongest where you're standing." The others were staring at their leader with
stunned expressions,  unsure  how  to  react.  Even  Vyram  seemed  frozen  by
indecision.
     "Can we narrow down the location of the beacon?" Jaina asked.  "Maybe  we
can remove it before they home in." Vyram adjusted the antenna and  passed  it
over Malinza's body. The program's bleeping went up in pitch as it passed  her
midriff. She lifted her prison tunic to expose the  waistline  of  her  pants.
There, embedded between two lines of stitching, was a tiny bump in the fabric.
     "They've had a bead on you the whole time." Zel's eyes darted around him,
staring wildly at the walls of the container—almost  as  if  through  them  he
could see security guards converging on the Stack. "They could be  here  right
now!" "Get a grip," Jjorg said in a manner that suggested his  panic  offended
her. "We have perimeter alarms, don't we? They couldn't get anywhere near  the
place without us knowing." "Why now?" Salkeli asked.
     Jjorg turned to him. "What do you mean?" "They could've planted something
on Mali like this months ago," he  said.  "So  why  now?"  "Because  she's  an
escapee now," Vyram said. "And we're aiding and abetting her.  They're  clear-
cut criminal charges, not  something  as  gray  as  slicing."  Malinza  stood.
"They're only clear-cut if my original charge isn't a fake," she said.  "Which
it is." "Either way," Jaina said, "we're going to have to get  out  of  here."
"Running will only make us look guilty," the Rodian said.
     "I agree with the Jedi," Zel said. "Staying here will get us  caught."  A
fierce buzzing from the computer system suddenly filled  the  room.  All  eyes
turned to Vyram at the computer console for an explanation.
     His expression was grim. "That's the perimeter alarm." "I knew  it!"  Zel
shouted, nervously pacing the confined space. "I just knew it!" "Shut it, Zel!
" Malinza snapped. Then, more calmly, she turned to Vyram  and  asked,  "Which
one is it?" "North-Fourteen and  South-Seven.  They're  coming  in  from  both
sides." "Air?" "Not as yet." "Good." Malinza turned  to  the  others.  She  no
longer looked the frightened teenager; now she appeared every bit  the  leader
of a covert group under threat. "I'm open to any suggestions  at  this  time."
"Why not let the Jedi fight for us?" Zel said, his expression  just  a  little
too eager and manic for Jaina's liking. "She  could  easily  take  on—"  "No!"
Malinza said sharply. Zel fell instantly silent. "There'll be no fighting. You
know that I will never approve of violence." "We  might  not  have  a  choice,
Malinza," Jjorg said.
     "No, there is an alternative," Jaina said. "You could remove the bug  and
give it to me. I could take it elsewhere,  to  throw  them  off  your  scent."
"Isn't it a bit late for that?" Jjorg said.  "They're  right  outside!"  Jaina
resisted the urge to snap back. Although Vyram had proved  that  she  was  not
responsible for having led the enemy to the Stack, she still  felt  as  though
everyone was blaming her for the situation they were in.
     "They're not here yet, though," Vyram said, looking thoughtful.
     "Yeah, but they're not stupid, either," Jjorg said.  "They'll  know  when
they're being duped." "Not if we present them with  many  variables  at  once.
We've had a distraction in place for some time, just in case a day should come
when they'd find us." He took a deep breath and looked at  Malinza.  "I'd  say
that day has arrived, wouldn't you?" Malinza nodded, then hastily tore the bug
from her waistband and handed it to Jaina.
     "They're getting closer," the young leader said, glancing at the  screens
as another siren went off. "I'd hurry, if I were you."  "I'll  go  with  you,"
Salkeli said. "I know  the  streets  better  than  you  do."  Jaina  hesitated
briefly, then relented with a nod. She couldn't deny that what the Rodian said
made sense. "Okay," she said. Then, to Malinza, she asked, "Will you at  least
tell me where you're going?" "I think it would be best if  you  didn't  know."
The girl extended a hand; Jaina took it and shook. "We'll meet again,  though,
I'm sure." Jaina just nodded. There wasn't time for long farewells.
     "After you," she said to Salkeli, and the Rodian dropped feet  first  out
of the container.
     The work in the library was a painstaking  process,  and  after  so  many
hours poring over books, Saba was beginning to feel fatigue  pressing  at  the
stiff muscles beneath her itchy scales. Thankfully, though, there were  enough
allusions to a wandering planet in the innumerable cultures to  keep  everyone
optimistic. After Danni had  found  the  first  reference,  Saba  had  quickly
discovered two more, and shortly after that Jacen had found yet another. Since
then, as the trail grew warm, appearances came at a regular  rate.  When  what
they thought was Zonama Sekot had passed near a  relatively  civilized  world,
they were able to pin down its appearance with precise dates;  otherwise  they
were able to guess, based on more or  less  inaccurate  records  and  physical
evidence. Luckily, Saba thought,  they  weren't  chasing  an  event  that  had
happened centuries ago. In many cases, witnesses were still alive to relate to
the Chiss contact teams their firsthand experience of the "Coming of  the  New
Star," or the "Dawning of the Death Sun," or whatever else it happened  to  be
called. From these recollections, along with  more  recent  surveys  of  every
system in the Chiss's domain, they gradually began to reconstruct the planet's
movements.
     Zonama Sekot had first appeared on the Imperial fringes  of  the  Unknown
Regions, visiting three systems within a couple of years. Then it  had  jumped
clear across to the outer edge of the galaxy,  where  habitable  systems  were
fewer and far between. There it had encountered a  species  that,  before  its
enslavement by the Yuuzhan Vong early in their invasion, would relate  to  the
Chiss visitors the coming of a world that hung  in  their  sky  for  a  month,
burning and smoking. This certainly didn't match the description of  the  lush
and peaceful world given by Vergere, but it did match predictions of the  sort
of stresses the crust of a planet might experience by jumping in  and  out  of
gravity wells through hyperspace. No one had ever heard of such a feat before,
so there was no experimental data on record,  but  the  most  basic  planetary
science suggested that Zonama Sekot would  not  have  been  unscathed  by  its
precipitous jumps across the galaxy.
     Following this, it had retreated inward, toward the Core of  the  galaxy.
There it encountered  several  species  in  quick  succession  before  finally
settling down in one particular system for almost a year. The new light in the
sky had inspired a competitive surge from the  normally  content  denizens  of
that system's habitable world, with the two main  countries  entering  into  a
kind of "space race" to see who could be the first to  land  a  probe  on  the
mysterious visitor. However, well before the vying probes  made  orbit  around
the planet, it vanished once more.
     Again, images taken before  it  disappeared  showed  a  world  completely
covered by smoke and ash, simmering in its own heat. Saba felt a pang of  pity
for the fleeing world as she once again contrasted these images with  that  of
Vergere's own testimony, reported by Jacen, of a  world  rich  with  life,  in
constant harmony with the Force.
     Oddly, though, later reports from farther around the galactic  rim  spoke
of a world that was green again — so either Zonama Sekot had managed  to  heal
itself, or it was getting the hang of making hyperspace jumps without  causing
itself any further grievous damage. It came and went without warning, flitting
shyly from star to star in search of... what? Saba wondered, but she  couldn't
begin to imagine. Perhaps, she thought, somewhere along the way  it  had  lost
the only  company  it  had  ever  known—the  Ferroan  colonists  who  had  for
generations lived on its surface—and was now seeking replacements...
     Then again, she was also aware that as one of the few  remaining  members
of her own species, still mourning the loss of her home planet, she  might  be
externalizing her own problems and transposing them  onto  Zonama  Sekot.  She
couldn't presume to know what went on in the mind of such an  incomprehensible
being that — A sudden high-pitched squeal startled Saba, causing her  to  jump
and almost drop the book she was returning to the shelf. She turned to  see  a
tall woman in her middle years dressed in a green jumpsuit beneath black robes
standing at the end of the aisle, both  hands  covering  her  mouth.  She  was
clearly surprised to have stumbled upon the huge Barabel.
     Behind her stood a blond human girl who looked to be in her early  teens;
she was dressed in a black uniform that looked like a miniature version of the
CEDF dress code. The girl looked disdainfully at the older  woman,  as  though
thoroughly mortified by her exclamation.
     "I-I—" the woman stammered, lowering her hands. A nervous smile failed to
hide her obvious embarrassment. "I'm sorry; you startled  me."  "There  iz  no
need to apologize," Saba said. "This one was startled also. We thought we were
alone in the library." "You are. I mean, you were." The woman still  seemed  a
little unsure of Saba.
     "What my mother means is that we just arrived," the girl said.  "We  were
looking for my father, Soontir Fel." There was something in the way  the  girl
glanced to the ground as she said this that suggested she wasn't  telling  the
truth. Nevertheless, understanding dawned for  Saba  at  the  mention  of  the
Baron's name. "Then you must be Syal Antillez?" The woman smiled  more  easily
this time, dissolving some of her awkwardness—although not all. "Yes. And this
is my daughter, Wyn." Saba executed a  short,  respectful  bow.  The  wife  of
Soontir Fel, mother of Jagged  Fel,  and  sister  of  Wedge  Antilles  was  an
acquaintance she was pleased to make. "This one iz  Saba  Sebatyne."  "What're
you looking for?" Wyn asked, craning to look at the spine of the book Saba had
just replaced.
     Saba hesitated, unsure how much she should reveal. "This one waz  tracing
the history of a speciez called the Hemes Arbora." The  girl  shrugged.  "I've
never heard of them." Saba stretched up to pull the book back down and flipped
it open to one of the strange, two-dimensional maps the archive preferred. She
tapped it with a claw.
     "They originally came from here,  Carrivar,  and  migrated  to  Osseriton
here, via Umaren'k. This one  detected  their  influence  on  the  Umaren'k'sa
culture." "What does that mean?" "Wyn," her mother cautioned.
     Syal Antilles was waiting some  distance  away—a  "safe"  distance,  Saba
observed. Despite her years living with Baron Fel among  the  Chiss,  she  was
probably still wary of nonhuman aliens—as so many Imperials seemed to  be.  To
Saba, she said: "I must apologize for my daughter's prying. I'm sure you  have
enough to do without her bothering you  with  questions."  "This  one  iz  not
bothered by your daughter," Saba assured. Then,  blinking  at  the  girl,  she
turned to answer her previous  question.  "Our  search  iz  for  a  particular
planet. Apart from itz one habitable world, Osseriton iz an empty system.  The
Hemes Arbora would have noticed a new world." Wyn laughed lightly. "You have a
strange way of saying things." "Wyn!" The girl, easily half  a  meter  shorter
than Saba, looked up at the Barabel and rolled her eyes, all the while keeping
her back to her mother.
     Saba smiled, saying to Syal Antilles: "It iz all right. This one  iz  not
offended by her words." Wyn returned  the  smile  at  this,  then  turned  her
attention to the maps, her eyes almost shining in wonder. "You must lead  such
an amazing life. Traveling to all those place, having all kinds of adventures!
" Saba nodded, supposing that from a child's point  of  view  that  must  seem
true. Jedi Knights carried with them an aura of mystique wherever  they  went.
However, it was unlikely that Saba's current work  in  the  library  was  even
remotely connected to the adventures that Wyn was obviously imagining...
     "So it's true," Syal muttered as she took a step  forward.  There  was  a
look of suspicion on her face. " You're really expecting us  to  believe  that
you're looking for Zonama Sekot." Saba didn't bother denying it. "This iz  our
quarry, yes." "But Zonama Sekot is nothing more than a legend, a myth.''  Syal
shook her head, eyes narrowing as her suspicion came to the fore. "What is  it
you're really after?" "This one does not know what you mean by—" "I mean  that
I find it hard to believe that you came all this way to chase  shadows!"  Saba
frowned, her eyebrow ridges  contracting  thickly  on  her  brow.  She  didn't
understand why the woman's temperament had suddenly changed,  or  indeed  what
she was trying to get at. "Why else would Master  Skywalker  bring  uz  here?"
"The CEDF Library, of course. It gives you access to everything we have on all
the people and places known to the Chiss!" "But why should  we  want  to  know
thiz?" "Because you're looking for allies,"  she  said.  "We've  resisted  the
Yuuzhan Vong better than you have. You need us far more  than  we  need  you."
"You think we're looking for a way  to  convince  you  to  join  the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances?" "Or maybe coerce us," Syal returned bluntly.
     "Mom," Wyn said. There was a hint of embarrassment and  reproach  in  her
tone. Then she faced Saba with a look of apology. "She doesn't mean  what  she
says. She's just worried you're going to try to take Dad away from  her,  like
you took Jag." The woman's eyes flashed anger at her daughter, and  her  voice
carried denial. "Wyn!" "Oh, come on, Mom," the girl said, wheeling  around  to
face her mother. "You've been worried about Dad ever since Jag left!"  "That's
not true," Syal said  firmly,  but  there  was  something  in  her  eyes  that
suggested that what her daughter said was true. After a moment, she sighed and
shook her head slowly. "It hasn't been since Jag left, Wyn;  it's  been  since
Coruscant fell." Saba was beginning to feel out of her depth. She wished  that
Master Skywalker was here to face these accusations instead of her; he was far
more adept at handling such matters.
     "Before Coruscant, I was actually trying to talk Soontir into joining the
fight against the Yuuzhan Vong." All acrimony had  gone  from  her  tone,  for
which Saba was grateful. She seemed to speak now as a means of explaining  her
prior hostility toward Saba's presence. "I wanted him to join the New Republic
like Jag did, either with the rest of the Chiss or without them. But he didn't
want to fight; he said that the New Republic could handle  the  Yuuzhan  Vong,
just as we were handling it on our side of  the  galaxy.  Then  you  lost  the
capital and — She hesitated briefly, as if collecting her  thoughts.  "I  knew
two things, then: that he would change his mind; and that you  were  going  to
lose." Her eyes flitted be-tween Wyn and Saba as she said, "I  won't  let  you
take him down with you. I won't." "Do you think he will be safe  here  if  the
Chiss don't join uz in the war?" The  expression  on  Syal's  face  told  Saba
everything she needed to know. The woman knew that the Chiss had  no  hope  if
the rest of the galaxy fell to the  Yuuzhan  Vong;  within  years,  the  alien
invaders would be replenished and able to overwhelm even the  strongest  Chiss
defense.
     "Don't make the mistake of  underestimating  the  Yuu-zhan  Vong,"  Danni
suddenly put in from the other end of the aisle - All eyes turned to her. Saba
hadn't heard the scientist  arrive,  and  wasn't  sure  how  long  she'd  been
listening in. Her expression was heavy with  tiredness,  but  her  words  were
uttered with the clarity of personal experience. "Too many of us have  already
paid a terrible price for doing just that. The New Republic, the  Empire,  the
Hutts, the Ithorians, the Rodians—the list keeps  getting  longer  with  every
year this war continues. You obviously know what's been  going  on;  you  must
realize how serious a threat these invaders are.  Do  you  really  think  that
hiding out here will save you forever? They may decide to wipe you  out  on  a
whim, just like they tried to do with the Imperial Remnant." "Your position iz
untenable," Saba added. "Denying it will not make it otherwise." "I don't want
to lose him," Antilles whispered, her expression one of someone caught between
two conflicting emotions. "I can't take it anymore. I can't..."  "Mom..."  The
daughter looked frightened.
     "Do not be afraid," Saba said, putting as much compassion  as  she  could
into her rough, reptilian voice. "We are not your enemies; we understand  your
fearz." Wyn looked up at her with wide, staring eyes. "But there  iz  no  easy
solution to this war. Turning your back on it won't make it go away.  We  need
long-term solutions; we need to work together. Of that, this one iz absolutely
certain, Syal Antilles." Syal nodded, then, although her  uncertainty  clearly
remained.
     "You're Syal Antilles?" Danni asked, coming closer.
     "Yes," the woman replied. "Why?" "Baron Fel just arrived," she said. "But
he didn't  mention  that  he  was  expecting  you."  "He  wasn't,"  she  said,
confirming Saba's earlier suspicion of Wyn's lie. "We just heard that  someone
had come from home, and we wanted to see them." Gone was the frightened mother
and wife; in her place stood a composed and confident woman beaming a pleasant
smile to a stranger who might not have heard every doubt she'd just expressed.
"And now that we have seen you, perhaps we should be moving along."  Her  eyes
met Saba's briefly, exchanging all manner of  emotion—the  most  prominent  of
which was gratitude. "Thank you for your words, Saba.  And  please  accept  my
apology for mine." "There iz no need," Saba said, effecting a slight bow.
     Syal Antilles returned the gesture. "Come along, Wyn." "I think  I  might
stay and help them, if that's all right?" The girl directed this to  Saba  and
Danni, both of whom nodded.
     "I don't think that's a good idea, Wyn," her  mother  said.  "They  don't
need you getting in their way while they're trying to work." "No, it's  fine,"
Danni said. "Actually, we could use the help." "Are  you  sure?"  Syal  asked.
There still seemed to be a residue of embarrassment for her earlier outburst.
     But Saba knew that an injection of youthful enthusiasm from Wyn would  be
just what they needed. "This one iz certain that Wyn would not be  a  burden."
Wyn's face immediately lit up. "You won't regret  it.  I  know  these  records
better than most people—including Tris!" "That I seriously doubt," her  mother
said.
     Wyn didn't respond; instead she faced Danni and asked: "Is it  true  that
one of the Solo twins is here with the Skywalkers?" Danni nodded  and  smiled.
"Jacen Solo, yes." "And will I get to meet him, too?"  "I'm  sure  you  will,"
Danni said.
     "Don't get too far ahead of yourself, Wyn," her mother  said.  She  still
seemed hesitant about her daughter staying. "We still have to clear this  with
your father." "He'll be fine with it, Mom," Wyn said, fairly bouncing  on  her
toes. Her enthusiasm suggested that not much in  the  way  of  excitement  had
happened in her life for a long, long time.
     "This one will mind her while you check, if you wish." Syal nodded, still
with some uncertainty, as Danni led her away.
     "Thank you so much for this!" she exclaimed once her mother and Danni had
disappeared down another aisle. "This will be fantastic!"  "It  will  also  be
hard work," Saba cautioned. "And it iz  very  important  work,  too."  "Oh,  I
understand that," Wyn said, forcing herself  to  settle  down.  Then,  looking
around, she spread her arms as if to encompass the entire  library  and  said:
"So where did you want to start?" Jaina followed as quickly as  she  could  as
Salkeli slithered down the pipes and vines to the bottom  of  the  Stack.  The
entire structure shuddered as it lowered slightly to make their  drop  to  the
ground less severe. She looked around to make sure the area was clear. It was.
However close the Bakuran guards were, thankfully they hadn't yet breached the
ground floor.
     Salkeli waved for her to follow. With the bug tucked deep in one  of  her
jumpsuit pockets and her deactivated lightsaber in hand, she did so. Her  feet
fell silently among the plant  debris  and  rubble  that  made  the  abandoned
building look more like ruins in a jungle than an abandoned office block.  The
Rodian led her out  of  the  atrium  space  and  through  a  series  of  short
corridors. They entered what had once been a public  refresher  and,  after  a
brief pause to listen for sounds outside, pushed out the window.
     "After you, this time," Salkeli said. Jaina slipped  through  the  narrow
space and into the darkness outside.
     She found herself standing in a long  and  very  narrow  alley.  She  was
grateful that there were no guards waiting for them,  because  there  wouldn't
have been much room to fight if there had been.
     It was still night by the look of the sky. She  hadn't  yet  adjusted  to
local time, but she suspected that dawn wasn't far off.  If  Malinza  and  the
other members of Freedom were going to make a clean getaway, they'd have to do
it soon.
     "What sort of distraction does Vyram have in mind, anyway?" she whispered
to the Rodian as he emerged from the window beside her.
     "Wait and see," he answered with a wink.
     He hurried up the alley, moving carefully but  quickly.  Jaina  followed,
alert to the slightest change in the environment around  her.  A  fitful  wind
blew from ahead of her, throwing up dust  and  rustling  discarded  paper  and
rubbish. She was acutely aware of the fact that the guards didn't have  to  be
supersleuths to find her. All they had to do was follow the  signal  from  the
bug in her pocket. Ideally, what she needed was a  feral  cratsch  or  a  lost
droid to which she could attach the bug, after which she could  make  her  own
escape. Until then, though, she would  just  have  to  keep  moving  and  stay
attentive.
     Salkeli was within ten meters of the end of  the  alley  when  an  aircar
suddenly swept over them, landing lights and powerful arcs flashing  down  the
narrow gap between the buildings. In a second it was gone.  Jaina  could  hear
the whine of its turbines as it circled to come back around and pinpoint  them
again.
     Through the Force, Jaina sensed the  blaster  come  up  from  behind  her
before the woman holding it had even had chance to fire. In one smooth  motion
she wheeled around in midstep and activated her  lightsaber,  bringing  it  up
between her and the guard at the distant end of the alley at the exact instant
the laser bolt fired. There was a bright flash as the bolt discharged into the
wall beside her, spraying chips of stone into the air.  More  bolts  followed,
but the smoke in the air spoiled the guard's aim, and Jaina was easily able to
back away after Salkeli, providing cover.
     The Rodian hissed for her to hurry. Sensing no  one  lying  in  wait  for
them, she turned and ran full tilt for the exit from the  alley.  Salkeli  had
his blaster out, ready to fire at anyone who got in his  way.  Jaina,  on  the
other hand, wasn't so committed to attacking people who, despite  her  current
situation, were supposed to be her allies.
     Out of the alley, she found herself on  a  wider,  more  exposed  street.
Salkeli was already halfway across it, heading  for  a  smashed  window  in  a
building on the far side. Jaina followed without hesitation, deactivating  her
lightsaber as she went. She dashed across the road and dived headlong  through
the window just seconds after Salkeli. She rolled as  she  landed,  coming  up
into a crouch to examine her surroundings. A quick look around told  her  they
were in the remains of  an  open-plan  office,  long  abandoned,  with  broken
furniture strewn about the floor.
     Salkeli was clambering to his feet just as the guards  emerged  from  the
alley across the street.
     "Keep moving!" he urged, dashing from the room with his head low.
     He took her deep into the building,  then  down  into  one  of  its  sub-
basements. Kicking open a stuck door, he revealed a long tunnel that,  judging
by its length, stretched to several other buildings  along  the  street.  They
hurried along it, passing entrances to other basement levels.
     "I trust you have a plan?" Jaina said.
     "More or less," he called back to her. "We'll go back up in a second,  to
throw them off track. Once we're sure Malinza and the rest  are  safely  away,
I'll take any suggestions you have." Footfalls came from the  corridor  behind
them. Jaina spun around, igniting her lightsaber and deflecting a  handful  of
blaster bolts that had been aimed at their fleeing  backs.  Salkeli  took  the
next stairwell on their right; Jaina followed.
     He didn't stop at the ground floor, but instead continued on to  the  top
of the building. When they emerged, the aircar was waiting for them,  hovering
above the roof like the remotes she'd once trained with—only much larger,  and
much deadlier. Two guards hung over its sides, blaster rifles pointing down at
Salkeli and Jaina. Dodging and deflecting laser bolts, the two  of  them  took
cover behind a ventilation shaft. Jaina used the  Force  to  rock  the  aircar
while the Rodian returned fire. That evened the score, but they were still  in
a no-win situation because they had nowhere to run.
     She was about to point this out when a loud explosion from nearby brought
a halt to the firing from the aircar. The  attention  of  the  guards  in  the
vehicle suddenly turned to a huge ball of burning gas rising up from a  nearby
building—the same building, Jaina noted, that had contained the Stack. She was
so surprised by the turn of events that she  barely  noticed  the  arrival  of
other guards from the stairwell. Thankfully, though, they were also  attracted
to the spectacle, staring in amazement at what was  emerging  from  the  newly
formed hole where the building's skylight had once been.
     The Stack itself—its ragtag jumble of containers  loosely  tied  together
with scaffolding and hidden by vines—rose gracefully  into  the  predawn  sky,
glinting shards of shattered transparisteel falling like silver rain onto  the
building below. Propelled by repulsors, the entire structure was as buoyant as
a hot-air balloon, and moved in much the same way. As soon as it  had  cleared
the top of the building, it began to drift with the prevailing wind,  trailing
a spreading cloud of smoke and debris beneath it.
     The aircar sped away to intercept the  floating  structure,  leaving  the
guards on the rooftop staring at the spectacle.
     "Now's the time for suggestions," he hissed. "Before  those  guards  over
there remember what they're here for. Right now they stand between us and  our
only means of escape." "There is one other," Jaina said, staring at  the  edge
of the roof a dozen or so meters away.
     Salkeli laughed, following her gaze. "Don't tell me that  Jedi  can  fly,
too?" She shook her head and smiled at him. "No, but we can  jump.  Come  on!"
With that, she bolted for the edge of the rooftop, not stopping to check  that
the Rodian was following. Then, trusting in her instincts and the  Force,  she
threw herself into the air.
     Instead of  landing  on  another  rooftop,  however,  she  found  herself
plunging into a deep and wide aqueduct half filled with fast-moving water. The
current instantly grabbed  and  held  her  down.  Her  limbs  flailed  as  she
struggled to orient herself and come up for air. Lungs  burning,  she  finally
broke the surface, desperately trying to suck in some oxygen while at the same
time coughing up some of the water she'd inhaled. Then, from somewhere nearby,
above the sound of rushing current, she heard the  wheezing  laughter  of  the
Rodian.
     "Over here!" he called as the current  swept  them  along  into  a  high-
ceilinged tunnel. He was paddling strongly a meter or so away from her.
     She spat out some more water and swam to his side. "I presume  the  Stack
was the distraction you mentioned. It was empty, right?"  "Right."  His  voice
echoed in the tunnel. "While the guards chasing us  split  up  to  check,  the
others would have slipped out through the basement." "But all that equipment,"
she said. A loss like that for a small group such as Freedom had to hurt. "All
that data!" "Data and equipment are replaceable; lives are not." An open shaft
passed by overhead, briefly  affording  them  some  light.  It  reflected  off
Salkeli's multifaceted eyes. "Okay, we're there," he said. "Swim for the edge.
" "You actually know where we are?" She was genuinely surprised.
     "A Rodian always has an escape plan," he said, kicking vigorously for the
edge of the tunnel. "I thought everyone knew that." "But it  was  my  idea  to
jump!" The Rodian snorted, a nasal bleat that sounded unusually  loud  in  the
tunnel. "I had already thought of it; I just wanted to check out your mettle."
He reached the wall and found purchase on its slimy surface. Jaina wasn't  far
behind. Her fingers dug into the gaps between bricks where ancient mortar  had
eroded away. "Up there," Salkeli said. "See?"  Jaina  looked  up  and  to  her
right, and saw an open access cover. Descending from it was  a  rusting  metal
ladder. She followed Salkeli's lead and began to edge her way toward  it.  The
current was stronger here than it had been before, and she had to fight not to
be swept away. From farther down the tunnel she could hear  a  faint  rumbling
sound, like that of a distant roaring. She  guessed  that  either  the  tunnel
continued to narrow the farther  it  went,  or  it  ended  in  an  underground
waterfall of some kind. Either way, she didn't particularly want to find out.
     "I'll help you up," Salkeli said, coming up beside her when  she  reached
the base of the ladder.
     "That's all right." She nudged him upward with the Force and enjoyed  the
look of surprise on his greert face. "I have something I have to do first." He
ascended the ladder while she reached into her pocket  and  removed  the  bug,
releasing it into the current. She was happy to let the security guards search
through the drainage system to find it. Then she lifted  herself  out  of  the
water, pulling herself up and out into the relatively fresh air.
     The sun was rising over the horizon when she scrambled through the access
hatch. Looking around, she could tell  they  had  come  out  in  a  completely
different section of the city than they'd  just  been  in.  The  streets  were
wider, the buildings lower and  better  maintained.  It  looked  more  like  a
warehousing suburb than the abandoned business complex they'd left behind.
     "We made it," she said, laughing in relief.
     "You ditched the bug?" Jaina nodded, already thinking about  what  to  do
next.
     "I think you've helped Freedom enough for one day," Salkeli said.  "Would
you like a lift back into town?" "As  long  as  it  doesn't  involve  swimming
again." He grinned,  motioning  for  her  to  accompany  him  to  the  nearest
building—a low, long container hold. There was a metal  roller  door  securing
the premises. Salkeli tapped a code into the lock and it obligingly  slid  up,
revealing a dusty but serviceable two-seater speeder.
     "You're not going to tell me that's yours, are you?" she said.
     The Rodian's multifaceted eyes twinkled. "Would you believe me if I did?"
"Well, you know what they say," Jaina said lightly. "A Rodian  always  has  an
escape plan." He smiled at this, gesturing with his long,  green  fingers  for
her to climb aboard while he moved around the back to adjust the  airfoil.  In
the second it took for him to do this, her senses told her that something  had
gone terribly awry—something she hadn't anticipated. But it was too late.  She
was climbing into the speeder when a searing pain caught her in the back.
     She turned as she fell, catching a fleeting  glimpse  of  Salkeli  as  he
lowered his blaster.
     "Always," she heard him say as darkness claimed her.
     She ran as fast as she  could  along  the  mostly  empty  corridors,  not
knowing where she was or where she was going. For all  she  knew—or  cared—she
might have been running in circles. It didn't  matter.  The  only  thing  that
mattered was that she keep running in the hope that it might distract her from
the pain in her mind.
     Try as she might, though, she couldn't  outrun  the  memories.  Her  life
seemed to be made up of one long tragedy, from her parents' deaths on Tatooine
to her latest breakdown on Bakura. And, of course, Anakin...
     Remember—together, you are stronger than the sum of  your  parts.  Master
Ikrit's last words to her, communicated via the Force, had helped  her  accept
her feelings for Anakin. But it wasn't about  strength;  it  was  about  being
together. She loved Anakin, and always had. As a child, she had loved him as a
friend; then, as they grew older, she had been  learning  to  love  him  as  a
woman. But now, because of the Yuuzhan Vong, because of the voxyn  and  Myrkr,
that love would never be realized.


     Her body shook with sobs  as  she  doubled  up,  clutching  her  stomach.
Anakin's absence was like a yawning gulf in her  life,  a  hole  that  nothing
could fill. The future they should have had together would never  happen,  and
nothing could ever take its place. Not even becoming a full  Jedi  Knight  was
any comfort. The Force without him in it was an empty thing.
     It's not supposed to be like this! she wanted to shout at  the  universe.
Change it back! Make it right. Make it better. Make the pain go away!
     She fell to the floor, rolling tightly into a fetal position, desperately
wanting to push back the pain. Anakin had sacrificed himself for  the  greater
good, and the thought of that only enhanced the love she  felt  for  him.  She
wanted to go back and kiss him that last time, instead of holding off as she'd
done. She wanted to go back and fight at his side, to help  him  overcome  the
Yuuzhan Vong warriors who had ultimately brought him down. She wanted  to  die
with him, because life without him was so incomprehensible.
     Memories...
     "You aren't immortal," Corran Horn had told  them  on  an  asteroid  near
Yag'Dhul, "and you  aren't  invincible."  "Everybody  gets  a  nasty  surprise
someday," Anakin had replied. "I'd rather get it standing up than lying down."
Memories...
     "I've thought about the dark side for most of my life. My mother named me
after the man who became Darth Vader. The Emperor touched me through her womb.
Every night I had nightmares that ended with me  in  my  grandfather's  armor.
With all due respect, I think I've probably thought a lot more about the  dark
side than anyone I know..." Memories...
     "You wre scarred up and tattooed like Tsavong  Lah,"  Anakin  said.  "You
were Jedi, but dark. I could feel the darkness radiating from you." "You don't
still think that could happen to me?" she responded, horrified by the  vision.
"How could I? You saved me from them, stopped me before  they  finished."  His
doubt, his fear that she might join the other side and destroy the  Jedi,  had
cut her more deeply than any physical wound she had ever  sustained.  "Anakin,
I'll never join the Yuuzhan Vong Memories...
     "Might be simpler if we don't make it."  After  their  first  kiss,  when
there was no going back to the way they'd been before. "Yeah. Are you sorry? "
"No. No, not even a little bit." "So let's survive  so  we  get  a  chance  to
figure this out, okay?" Sobs tore through her like knives. She was so  lonely;
she was so alone. Anakin's family could have been hers, but now  instead  they
were frightened of her. They were suspicious of her  and  tried  to  push  her
away. Everyone was pushing her away. Everyone except  —  "Tahiri?"  The  voice
came from outside her head, beyond her memories. The use of her  name  was  so
unexpected that she was on her feet in an instant, her  lightsaber  crackling,
rising defensively before she'd even seen who had said it. Then, when she  did
look, she couldn't see him properly because of the  film  of  tears  over  her
eyes.
     "No, wait!" Whoever it was, he backed nervously away,  arms  outstretched
in a desperate request for her to lower her weapon.
     "You come anywhere near me," she hissed, "and so help me I'll—" "I won't,
I promise." She didn't recognize the voice. "I just heard that you were  lost.
That's all. I came to help you." "Help me?"  she  repeated  suspiciously,  the
lightsaber unsteady in her hands. "Why should you help me? You don't even know
me!" "Sure I do," he said. "You're the Jedi-who-was-shaped. You're—" She  felt
the blood drain from her face. "Don't ever  call  me  that!"  He  backed  away
another step as the tip of her lightsaber stabbed toward him. "I'm sorry!"  he
said. "I didn't realize you found it  offensive."  "Well,  I  do,"  she  said,
pouring all of her anger into the words. "It reminds me of things  I'd  sooner
forget." "I can understand that. You are like  us  in  many  respects."  Anger
flared again. He was trying to manipulate her. "Who are you?" "I'm  a  friend.
We met back at the spaceport, remember?"  "The  Ryn?"  She  blinked  back  the
moisture covering her eyes and looked more closely at the being before her. He
was gray-skinned and had a beak for a nose. A prehensile tail lashed  the  air
behind him. There was a smell about him, too: a smell that was inherent to his
species.
     "It is you," she said with some surprise, sensing  his  familiarity  even
though she'd never seen his face before.
     He nodded. "The name is Goure," he said, trying  to  force  a  smile  but
clearly finding it difficult with her lightsaber still raised  toward  him.  "
Look, could we put that away for  now?  I  think  we  might  attract  unwanted
attention." With some embarrassment, Tahiri realized that they  were  standing
in a public access way. At the other end of the corridor, people were starting
to gather, staring curiously at the Jedi and the Ryn. She quickly  deactivated
her lightsaber and reattached it to her belt.
     "I'm sorry," she said, appalled by her  foolishness.  "I'm  not  thinking
straight at the moment." Goure shrugged good-naturedly. "It's  nothing  to  be
ashamed of," he said sotto voce. "Come, follow me and I'll take us to a  place
where we won't have an audience. But try not to make it seem as though you are
following me, okay? I'm a servant; you must order  me  to  lead."  She  nodded
slowly. "I was lost, and you are taking me home." "Exactly." He rearranged his
body under the simple gray robes he wore so he was hunched forward, as  though
with age. "This way." She followed him with head held high and her  expression
devoid of any of the emotions she'd felt  just  moments  earlier.  She  pushed
through the crowd at the end of the corridor, her cold stare daring anyone  to
obstruct her. It took all her  control  of  the  Force  to  placate  the  more
curious, and the irony wasn't lost on her that she  couldn't  apply  the  same
trick to herself. Behind the facade, her mind was still very much in turmoil.
     Goure led her through the  corridors  and  malls  of  Salis  D'aar,  past
floating statues and elegant fountains. Plant life encroached heavily  on  the
city, thriving in the thick air and fertile soils. Tree trunks snaked  through
carefully arranged holes in the pavement and walls, their  vine-covered  coils
diverting the  eye  from  security  checkpoints,  public  comm  stations,  and
information outlets. In some places, Salis D'aar seemed so  heavily  overgrown
that it looked like the jungle was taking over, but ferrocrete was strong  and
resisted the tide of root and tendril with stubborn defiance. The  city  would
last awhile yet; it was civilization's strongest bastion in its battle against
nature.
     "Here," Goure said, waving her ahead into a narrow corridor  between  two
ornamental statues. She did as he told her without hesitation or question;  he
projected no sense of threat or danger. After looking up and down the corridor
behind  them,  he  followed.  When  inside,  he  flicked  a  switch;  a  small
holoprojector flickered to life, covering the entrance with  the  illusion  of
solid wall.
     "It won't actually keep anyone out," Goure said,  walking  ahead  of  her
along the corridor, "but it'll at least stop them from stumbling  in  on  us."
"Is security looking for me?" she asked.
     "Oh, no. This is nothing to do with you." His tail  coiled  and  uncoiled
restlessly. "We just prefer not to leave too many odd connections in our wake,
that's all." The room at the end of the corridor  was  empty  apart  from  two
simple chairs and a low box. Bare stone walls and a single, naked light source
leant it a forbidding air, but Tahiri didn't feel threatened by the Ryn at her
back. He radiated nothing but surety and reliability.
     "Take a seat." He fished around in the box and produced two scuffed metal
cups and a bottle of water. Tahiri eased herself into the chair closest to the
entrance, thankful to be resting her feet. She felt drained right to the  very
core of her being, as though she had been running for days.
     He offered her a cup of the water, which she gratefully accepted. It felt
good and refreshing in her mouth, and she closed her eyes in  appreciation  as
she sipped it.
     "What happened to your arms?" Goure indicated the scars  showing  beneath
her thin tunic.
     "Nothing," she answered uneasily, folding her arms in a way that hid  the
self-inflicted wounds from back on Mon Cal. There was nothing she could do  to
hide the marks on her forehead. "What time is it?" she  asked  to  change  the
subject.
     "A couple of hours before  dawn."  That  surprised  her—although  it  did
explain her exhaustion. She didn't want to ask the next question, but she  had
to in order to  ease  her  mind.  "What  have  I  been  doing?"  Goure  looked
sympathetic. "You haven't hurt anyone, if that's what you're  worried  about."
"You said you'd heard that I was lost." A useful euphemism, she thought. "How?
" "I have many means of learning what's going on," he said. "I'm a Ryn.  We're
ignored at best. We work on the lowest rungs of society, doing the jobs no one
else wants to do. That allows me to get into places and  gives  me  access  to
information most people wouldn't even know existed. I listen to  gossip,  scan
the security frequencies, go through the trash—" She  inadvertently  pulled  a
face, which made him smile. "Yeah, I know. It's not the most glamorous of jobs
at times, but I get results. Anyway, your name came up in a  security  report.
They were watching you carefully, unsure what you were up  to.  I  thought  it
might be best to get to you before they decided to bring you in." He shrugged.
"It wasn't difficult to work out where you were and where you might be headed.
" She hated to think what she might have done had the security  guards  closed
in on her at any point during her strange fugue state. The feelings  of  anger
and hurt had been so overwhelming; she may well have used those  guards  as  a
means to vent her emotions.
     Still, Goure had said that she hadn't hurt anyone. That was something  to
be grateful for, at least.
     "What about Han and Leia?" she asked. "Do they know?"  "They  have  other
things to worry about, I'm afraid." The Ryn's expression  turned  serious.  "A
warrant for Jaina's arrest was released shortly after midnight." "What?  Why?"
"Security droids caught images of her helping Malinza Thanas escape from where
she was being held. She's been charged with aiding and  abetting,  along  with
sedition—or she will be, when they find her. She's listed as being  armed  and
dangerous. Guards are to use force if necessary." The news shocked Tahiri  out
of concern for herself. Jaina on the run? Her first thought was to  help.  The
tug of the family she'd nearly had was strong, but not as strong as the sudden
sense of warning that rushed through her.
     I called you Riina.
     It came back to her in a rush: Leia's face in the gloom of  the  bedroom,
the silver pendant — Jaina told me what Jag found.
     She reached into the pocket of her robe and felt the pendant,  its  bumps
and edges worn by Yuuzhan Vong  claws.  The  Peace  Brigade  had  left  it  on
Galantos, probably by accident. It had fallen under a bed  in  the  diplomatic
wing, where the Brigaders had been staying. Something about  the  pendant  had
called to her, triggering her instincts They told her that something  was  up;
there was more to Galantos than met the eye. Searching, she'd  been  drawn  to
the pendant's dusty hiding place and — She's hiding something—from herself  as
well as everyone else...
     Then she had blacked out. When she had woken, the pendant had  gone.  Jag
must have found it and passed it on to Jaina, who had aired her suspicions  to
her mother.  All  the  while,  the  pendant  had  nagged  at  Tahiri  like  an
unscratchable itch, preoccupying her mind, calling out to her...
     No. Not her. It was calling out to Riina of Domain Kwaad—the monster  the
Yuuzhan Vong had tried to turn her into!
     Somehow, the Riina personality is still inside you.
     A deep darkness rose up in her mind, threatening to consume  her—just  as
it had so many times before. She fought it now as she had then, fighting  down
the persona that kept trying to take her over.


     I am not Riina! I am Tahiri Veila! Despite her determination, her  mental
voice sounded feeble. I am a Jedi!
     The darkness receded and she sagged back into the chair with a sob.  What
was she going to do? If the slightest  hint  of  Yuuzhan  Vong  was  going  to
destabilize her so deeply, how could she possibly hope to be of use in the war
against the enemy? And what if Riina took over  completely?  What  then  would
become of her and the people around her?
     "Tahiri?" Despite the softness of the voice,  it  cut  sharply  into  her
thoughts, startling her. So relieved was she to hear her  own  name  that  she
suddenly burst into tears.
     "Hey, I'm sorry, Tahiri. Are you okay?" Lost in  her  thoughts,  she  had
forgotten all about Goure, the Ryn. He was crouched down before her  now,  his
powerful scent filling her nostrils, thrusting deep into the old places of her
mind, forcing itself into the spaces buried beneath her thoughts. It seemed to
sweep out the cobwebs  as  it  went,  working  its  way  through  the  tangled
corridors of her mind like a powerful cleansing wind.
     Jaina couldn't be blamed for the position Tahiri was in. Nor  could  Jag,
or Anakin's parents. There was only  one  person  responsible,  and  that  was
herself. She had to be the one to prove to everyone that she could be trusted,
that she was the one in control and not Riina.
     "Don't be sorry," she said to the anxious Ryn. She wiped the  tears  from
her face and quashed down the  darkness  still  threatening  to  rise  to  the
surface. The pendant was in her hand, and she pushed it back  into  the  inner
pocket of her robes where she didn't have to look at it. "Just help me  rescue
my friend." "That I will," the Ryn said, his tail snapping like a  whip.  "The
first thing we have to do, though, is find out  if  they've  caught  her.  The
warrant only mentioned Jaina, so Han and Leia might be in the clear  for  now.
But I can't be certain. We'll need to be closer to things in order to keep  an
eye on them." "I'll do whatever it takes," she said determinedly. "I just want
to put things right." "And the best way to do that is with my help, if  you're
willing to stick with me awhile  longer."  She  met  his  gaze  with  all  the
strength she could muster. Part of her wanted to go straight back to  Han  and
Leia, to try to repair the damage, but another part  of  her  was  nervous  of
doing that just yet. Not until  she  was  certain  of  where  she  stood.  And
besides, she told herself, if she could find more about what the Ryn  were  up
to, that would stand her in good stead when she did go back. It was  important
who was helping them, and why.
     Goure nodded as though in approval.
     "Very well, Tahiri Veila." He rose to his feet. "The first thing  1  need
you to do is to wait here. You can't go wandering around looking  like  that."
She looked down at her robe and frowned. "Like what?" "Like you. Even if  they
weren't already watching you, they certainly wouldn't let you walk freely into
where we need to go. The trick to being like us, you  see,  is  to  make  sure
you're not noticed." "I need a disguise, right?" He nodded, smiling. "I  won't
be long, I promise." "How long?" she asked quickly, standing. The emptiness of
the room was already crowding in around her. There  would  be  nothing  to  do
while he was gone, no distractions from her thoughts. The idea of being on her
own in an unfamiliar city put her even more on  edge.  What  if  the  security
guards came for her? What if Goure didn't come back?
     "Try not to be scared, Tahiri. You'll be all right." She could tell  from
the hesitant movements of his hands that  he  would  like  to  reach  out  and
reassure her physically, but was reluctant to do so.  Probably,  she  figured,
because he was worried she might have another panic episode and  threaten  him
with her lightsaber again.
     "I-I'm just worried about being alone,  that's  all."  She  looked  down,
embarrassed by the admission. It was a weakness, and did not become  the  Jedi
Knight she was supposed to be. "I feel  very  lost  right  now."  "We  have  a
saying," Goure said. " 'In the darkest hole you can always  find  some  light.
You just have to open your eyes to see it.' " "We also  have  a  saying,"  she
responded. " ' The darker the shadow, the brighter the light that  casts  it.'
'' "Very wise," he said, nodding. "But tell me, Tahiri  Veila:  when  you  say
'we,' do you mean the Jedi or the Sand People?" She smiled at  the  memory  of
the first time Sliven said those words to her. "The Sand  People,"  she  said.
"And what about you: Ryn or Bakuran?" "Ryn." His beak twitched for  a  moment,
then broke into an unusual smile, as though he'd been amused by some  profound
joke. His hand reached out carefully to touch her shoulder. "I won't be  long,
Tahiri." She nodded briefly and then  he  was  gone,  hurrying  up  the  short
corridor and disappearing through the holographic illusion hanging across  the
entrance. The city murmured through the stone walls, distantly,  impersonally.
It didn't care about her—who she was, what she wanted, or whether her  friends
lived or died. Its coldness was, oddly, a remedy for her dour mood,  reminding
her that in the larger scheme of things, perhaps, it simply didn't matter  who
she was.
     But it did matter. If she gave in to Riina  and  Anakin's  vision  became
fact, who would stand up against the Yuu-zhan Vong then? Life  in  the  galaxy
would vanish under a creeping tide of darkness that no dawn could ever hope to
dispel.
     She shook her head to clear her mind of the thought and sat  cross-legged
on the stone floor to wait for Goure's return. With a grim determination,  she
fell into a Jedi rejuvenation trance. It had been a long time since she'd last
slept, and she was going to need her resilience. Her body must be strong,  she
told herself, her senses sharp; her concentration was a crystal spear, cutting
through the layers of deception to the truth beneath...
     A  worm  of  doubt  burrowed  into  the  trance,  however,  as  something
unsettling occurred to her. No matter where she went, she could never again be
the same. There would always be Riina at the back of her mind, trying to  come
forward. There would always be that question niggling at her thoughts: Who  am
I, really? How could she live a life like that, let alone get through one more
day?
     I am Tahiri Veila, she told herself again, Jedi Knight and child  of  the
Sand People. I will prevail!
     Or I'll die trying...
     The audience was not going well.
     "Yu'shaa, your word spreads farther with every  day,  yet  still  we  are
reviled. We are beaten and killed as we have always been. How  long  until  we
will be free to be as we were?" Nom Anor replied: "We will only be  free  when
the un-Shamed accept us as their equals, as we are in the eyes  of  the  gods.
Our Message—the philosophy of the Jeedai — will persuade them if we spread  it
far enough. If it doesn't convince them we then will make them accept it,  and
us with it. Only then will we achieve our goal." He paused significantly.  "It
is a hard road, I know—but it is one that must be walked." "But if we do  Yun-
Yuuzhan's work, then his will must become clear to the enemy, too. Surely they
would come to see the truths the Jeedai bring?" "You can show a  blind  person
something a thousand times and he will never see it; you can speak  a  message
to a deaf person until the universe turns cold and she will never hear it. So,
too, it is with our enemies. Only those who are open to the truth will  accept
the truth that the Jeedai  bring.  Moreover,  those  who  do  not,  those  who
continue to espouse a perverted philosophy of pain  and  pointless  sacrifice,
these are the ones who must in turn be  sacrificed.  Redemption  can  only  be
achieved by those with the capacity to be redeemed." The  questioning  acolyte
nodded slowly, unsurely, as though Nom Anor's answer only partially  satisfied
her. Nom Anor studied the Shamed One closely, seeking anything that  made  her
stand out from the rest of the  congregation.  The  usual  procession  of  the
disabled and the sick was increasingly diluted by numbers of the hale and  the
higher-ranked, all dissatisfied with  the  status  quo  on  the  surface.  But
despite the mass of scars and failed bio-implants that marked this  particular
member of the congregation as a Shamed One, Nom Anor couldn't  help  but  feel
there was something that set her apart from the others. Dressed  in  unadorned
robes, she was slender without being skinny. Her eyes  were  filled  with  the
furious intelligence of one consumed with doubt. She lacked  the  bent,  cowed
frame possessed by so many of the usual penitents.
     "But, Master," the acolyte went on, "what if one  of  the  enemy  was  to
question the ways he'd been taught? A lifetime of lies is difficult to  fight—
especially if the truth is hidden from him. The enemy you  revile  hears  only
that which he is told, filtered through many ears and mouths  along  the  way.
The message is distorted, clouded by those who are indeed your enemy, who will
ascribe to you all manner of heresy simply in order to damn you. What  of  the
one who wishes to hear the truth, but cannot obtain it? Is ignorance an excuse
in Yun-Yuuzhan's eyes?" Nom Anor's eyes narrowed behind his  ooglith  masquer.
"Our mission should be to reach all Yuuzhan Vong, regardless of caste or rank,
in order that they may have the chance to see the truth.  We  start  at  lower
echelons not only because they are easiest to access, but  also  because  they
are the most numerous. We see the greatest need among  them."  "The  need  for
freedom is not the same as the need for redemption, though, Master." "One does
not come without the other." "No, but should you amass every one of the Shamed
Ones and all the disaffected, you would still be fighting those at the top who
wield overwhelming power over the instruments of state. It would take years to
overthrow them—years I don't believe we have. Even as we speak, plans are  put
into motion to eradicate your movement and trample your dreams into the dust."
The congregation was transfixed, now. Nom Anor, too, was filled with a  morbid
fascination. This was no ordinary penitent. She spoke too  well,  had  thought
the issue through too thoroughly, and she didn't  just  regurgitate  the  same
vacuous questions that so often spilled from the mouths of those who  came  to
see the Prophet, all looking for the answers that simply didn't exist  in  the
real world. No, this one had seen the problems Nom  Anor  grappled  with,  and
considered them carefully. And, like Nom Anor, she'd only been able to come up
with incomplete solutions—if any at all.
     There had been others with minds as keen as this. Kunra and Shoon-mi  had
taken them aside for training as disciples, taught them the lessons  that  Nom
Anor wanted preached, and then sent them back out into the world to spread the
Message further among the masses. There were six such disciples now,  and  Nom
Anor knew he would need many more if  he  were  to  reach  all  of  those  who
hungered for redemption. More like the Shamed One before him today.
     But the doubt in those eyes...
     No, thought Nom Anor again: this was no ordinary penitent.
     "We hear rumors of countermeasures," he said,  choosing  his  words  with
caution. He would have liked to clear the room to end this  one's  challenging
questions, but that would be seen as a sign of doubt. "We have made efforts to
ascertain the truth behind them." "But  those  efforts  have  failed."  "Yes."
"They have also been noticed." Nom Anor fixed his stare upon the acolyte for a
few lingering seconds before responding. "Of course. But there is nothing else
we can do." "There are always alternatives, Master. Attacking a stronghold  is
pointless when it is unassailable. It must be weakened from  within."  "Easier
said than done," Nom Anor returned. "How are we to achieve this when we cannot
enter it?" How have you turned this around, he wanted to  ask,  that  you  now
have me asking the questions?
     "You must wait for the opportunity to come to you,"  the  penitent  said.
"And when it does, you must take that opportunity and  use  it  to  your  best
advantage." There was  complete  silence  in  the  room.  At  last,  Nom  Anor
understood.
     "Who are you?" he asked.
     "Does it matter?" she responded. "I am here, and I wish to  join  you.  I
think—and I am coming to believe-that you hold the answers  the  Yuuzhan  Vong
have come to the galaxy in search of.  Or  if  not  you,  then  certainly  the
Jeedai. The gods no longer speak through those who claim to  speak  for  them,
and I no longer wish to be the enemy of the truth." Nom Anor saw the sincerity
in the words, even as he understood their fragility. Here was one who  thought
like him. This was not the mind of a simple  follower,  consumed  by  passions
little nobler than those of animals. No, this was  a  higher  mind,  like  Nom
Anor's. Those who looked  to  Yun-Yuuzhan  for  answers  would  invariably  be
disappointed because, even if the gods did exist, why wouldn't the truths they
served be infinitely more complex than those any mere mortal could  ever  hope
to understand?
     The penitent's face showed none of this, but that was  because  the  face
was as false as Nom Anor's own. She,  too,  was  wearing  an  ooglith  masquer
designed to give the appearance of a Shamed One. All was illusion, deception..
.
     Could this be the one? Nom Anor wondered.  Could  this  be  the  link  to
Shimrra I've been waiting for? He wasn't so naive  as  to  hope  for  a  high-
ranking warrior or intendant. They were all thoroughly brainwashed.  A  simple
servant would be enough—someone who had access to the private places he  could
no longer see; someone who could overhear the meetings at which policies  were
decided. With a spy right in the heart of the Supreme Overlord's inner circle,
he could indeed eat away at his enemy from within, just as  the  penitent  had
said, using the knowledge gained from such a source to direct his campaign—and
all the while recruiting others to reduce his reliance on that one person.
     But how could he trust someone without knowing  her  name?  What  if  the
penitent had been deliberately planted by Shimrra to spread false  information
about his intentions? Did the Supreme Overlord  have  the  capacity  for  such
subtlety?
     Doubt flowered in his gut.
     "Come closer," he said, motioning the penitent forward. He could feel the
weight of the entire audience's stare upon him. They  were  present  during  a
significant moment, and they knew it. How he handled the next few minutes  was
vital.
     The  penitent  approached  within  arm's  reach—close  enough   to   kill
honorably, Nom Anor thought. He waved her closer  still,  until  their  mouths
were at each other's ears.
     "How do I know I can believe you?" Nom Anor whispered.
     "You can believe me." The  penitent's  voice  was  little  more  than  an
expelled breath. "The gods have brought me this far, have they not?" Nom  Anor
pulled back slightly to stab his steely gaze into  the  penitent's  eyes.  "We
screen for infiltrators, not for piety." Those eyes smiled back at  Nom  Anor.
"I pass on both counts, then." "Perhaps," Nom Anor said. "But we  are  not  so
foolish as to believe that we will catch every spy that comes  our  way.  They
come in all shapes and sizes, and they present  many  different  faces."  "You
would know more about that than I, Nom Anor," the  penitent  whispered.  "That
was your specialty, after all." Nom Anor went cold, pushing the penitent  away
from him. "How—?" "I recognized you as soon as  I  saw  you—even  behind  your
ooglith masquer." The eyes of the penitent didn't leave his; they were  filled
with something approximating  triumph,  as  though  Nom  Anor's  reaction  had
confirmed what had until that moment  been  only  a  guess.  "It  didn't  seem
possible, at first; we'd been told you were dead. But the more I  listened  to
you speak, the more sure I became that it was you. Audacity and surprise  were
always your hallmarks, Nom Anor. When Shimrra cast  you  out—"  "Enough!"  Nom
Anor pushed her farther away, as he would repel  something  unclean.  "I  have
heard enough!" He looked around desperately for Kunra and Shoon-mi.  They  had
planned for such an eventuality; there were contingencies.  They  should  have
been sealing off the room and preparing for slaughter; there  was  no  way  he
could allow anyone to leave this room now that his true name had been spoken.
     But they weren't moving. They stood at the  back  by  the  door,  looking
puzzled. They hadn't heard the peni-tent's whisper! They didn't know what  was
going on!
     The penitent was determined.  "Wait,"  she  said,  pushing  forward,  one
gnarled hand reaching under her robes. "I have something for  you."  Nom  Anor
reacted instinctively. There wasn't time to think. Someone who recognized  him
was threat enough; the slightest suggestion that a weapon might  be  drawn  on
him was enough to make him act.
     Blood rushed to the muscles around his left eye socket.  Pressure  peaked
where the eyeball had once been. He felt a short, sharp pain as  his  plaeryin
bol exploded, spitting poisoned darts into the face of the penitent.
     With a harsh cry, his attacker fell backward onto the ground.
     The audience erupted. Nom Anor fell back against his throne, his  muscles
turned to jelly. He heard screaming, confusion, cries  for  order.  Inside  he
felt only emptiness. He had come so close to death. The plaeryin bol where his
left eye had once been had saved him, as he had always  known  it  would,  one
day. But he also knew that the respite was only  temporary.  An  assassin  had
been sent to destroy him, and he had come so close. Others  would  follow;  he
would never be safe again!
     He forced himself up, to think, to act. Kunra and Shoon-mi  were  getting
the crowd in order, looking to him for instructions. At his feet, the penitent
writhed as the paralyzing poison seared through her  system.  Nom  Anor  knelt
beside her and pressed his claws  on  either  side  of  the  penitent's  nose,
looking for the pressure point that would cause the ooglith masquer to release
itself. He didn't care if the creature took off half the spy's face. He had to
know who it was that Shimrra had sent; he had to  look  at  the  face  of  his
would-be assassin.
     The ooglith masquer came away with a grotesque noise, like that of fabric
tearing. Underneath was a face more familiar than Nom Anor  had  expected.  It
didn't belong to a guard or a nameless servitor. Far from it.
     The penitent was Ngaaluh, a priestess of the deception sect. He  knew  of
her from the sect's attempts to infiltrate the infidels in the  past.  He  had
seen her in the company of Harrar, another priest rising in Shimrra's court.
     "You?" Nom Anor frowned deeply. "Why you?" "I—" Ngaaluh's eyes were  wide
and frightened, the bluish sacks beneath them almost invisible. The poison was
sending fire through her nervous system, making breathing difficult. Soon  her
heart would stop, and it would all be over. Through the pain, she  was  trying
to say something. She reached up, but Nom Anor flinched away.
     Then he looked again as something spilled out of the priestess's  failing
three-fingered grasp. It wasn't a weapon, as Nom Anor had suspected. It was  a
living unrik—a chunk of  tissue  excised  from  Ngaaluh's  body  as  a  votive
offering to her gods. Kept alive by  biotechnology,  the  unrik  served  as  a
symbol of Ngaaluh's servitude—and she had been offering it to Nom Anor!
     "You fool!" He knelt over Ngaaluh as the priestess's body began to shake.
There was an antidote to the plae-ryin bol poison, but he had  never  expected
to use it. The neural pathways were rusty, and he had to concentrate  to  stir
the buried bioconstruct to life.  The  knuckle  of  his  right  thumb  snapped
straight with a click. He bit down on a gasp as a searing pain burned  in  the
joint. A hair-thin needle extruded from  under  the  claw.  He  slid  it  into
Ngaaluh's neck where the vein still throbbed.  There  was  more  pain  as  the
antivenin shot into the priestess's bloodstream, but it was  nothing  compared
to that suffered by the female before him. Nom Anor held Ngaaluh down as every
muscle went into spasm, burning energy in  one  final  paroxysm  of  agony.  A
keening, hissing sound escaped the priestess's clenched  jaw,  growing  louder
with each spasm.
     Then, suddenly, the priestess went limp. Fearing the worst, Nom Anor bent
over her.
     "Yu'shaa..." The word was  little  more  than  a  sigh,  and  with  that,
Ngaaluh's eyes  closed.  Nom  Anor  pressed  his  hand  to  the  spot  on  the
priestess's throat where he'd injected the antidote.  Despite  appearances  to
the contrary, the faint, lingering pulse  was  testimony  to  the  priestess's
continuing existence in the world.
     He looked up. The members of the audience were staring at  him  in  alarm
and amazement. How much they understood of what had just taken place he didn't
know, but he doubted that any of them would come close to  grasping  its  true
import. The gods had provided the answer to Nom Anor's prayers, in the form of
the priestess — and he'd almost killed her!
     The unrik rested beside Ngaaluh's unconscious form. Nom  Anor  picked  it
up. It was warm and pulsed gently in his grasp. Ngaaluh must  have  stolen  it
from the high priest's sanctum sanctorum before coming to offer it to the  new
gods. How and why she had come to believe in them, Nom Anor couldn't  imagine.
Nevertheless, he knew an opportunity when he saw one, and he did not intend to
pass this one up.
     He indicated for Shoon-mi to come to him. His servant did so immediately,
pushing his way through the agitated  crowd.  "Master,  is  everything  well?"
"This acolyte is to be given the best care we can offer." Which  wasn't  much,
given their meager resources, but it was better than nothing at all.  "She  is
important, Shoon-mi. Do you understand? Nothing is to happen to her." Shoon-mi
bowed. "It shall be so, Master." The Shamed One scurried away  to  organize  a
stretcher.
     Nom Anor gestured for Kunra next. The  ex-warrior  came  and  knelt  down
beside him so he could whisper.
     "What has happened?" he asked. "Who is this female?" "She is a priestess,
and close to Shimrra. I knew her before my fall. She named me, Kunra." The ex-
warrior's eyes widened, and Nom Anor knew that he understood the  significance
of that fact. " But I think we can trust her. She has given me... assurances."
The slow throbbing of the unrik matched the pulse visible in the great vein in
Ngaaluh's neck.
     "She could be just what we need," Kunra said.
     "Exactly. But first we have to make sure  that  no  one  overheard."  The
members of the audience were growing more restless by  the  second,  shuffling
aimlessly and muttering among themselves.
     "I should take precautions, perhaps?" "No."  Nom  Anor  knew  that  Kunra
would happily kill all the penitents to ensure their safety, but  that  wasn't
an optimal solution. Ngaaluh would wonder what had happened to  them,  and  so
would Shoon-mi. "We can't afford to waste resources, or to  provide  fuel  for
rumors. If they all disappear, some will be missed. Belter to find out  if  my
secret is safe and let them go. Who knows? Maybe it will work in  our  favor."
"Feeding the legend," Kunra mused, then nodded once. "It shall be  done."  Nom
Anor stood to address  the  crowd.  "This  is  an  auspicious  day!"  he  said
dramatically, knowing that the truth was too  dangerous  to  reveal.  "I  have
survived an attack and am stronger for it. Go, now, and tell everyone! It will
take more than this to keep  us  from  the  respect  we  deserve!"  The  crowd
accepted this pronouncement with some uncertainty, but accept it they did.  He
had delivered the bulk of  his  message  before  Ngaaluh's  interrogation  had
thrown him off. They had heard everything they needed to hear. Once Kunra  had
satisfied himself that they hadn't heard anything else, they would be  allowed
to leave to begin their missionary work.
     "Our time draws ever nearer," he said to them as they began to file  out.
"And with the events of this day, it might come sooner than even I expected...
" "I'm going to melt if it gets any hotter in here," Tahiri said,  wiping  her
brow with the back of her hand.
     "Adjust the ventilation controls," Goure said, his muffled  voice  coming
from within his own hostile environment suit.  A  super-strong  exoskeleton  a
meter taller than he was, the HE-suit hid his  face  behind  a  collection  of
droid sensors and allowed him to use its superior strength for any  manner  of
distasteful chores. Tahiri's own suit was identical  to  his—painted  a  dull,
metallic brown with scuffed ident markings on back and chest — and she watched
the world through a bewildering array of views and senses. She felt as  though
she were wearing an ancient suit of armor. "Turn the thermostat down  and  you
should start to feel better." "It's already down as  far  as  it'll  go,"  she
said. They could have communicated by comlink, but Goure had  said  he  didn't
want to take the risk of being overheard. The suits had external speakers  and
microphones and they did the job well enough—unlike her air-conditioning unit.
     She jabbed at the controls with her chin, trying to blink away the  salty
sweat stinging her eyes. Having grown up among the Sand People, she  was  used
to being enclosed in hot environments—but this was ridiculous.
     Something thumped her from behind, followed by a distinct click.  A  flow
of icy air instantly rushed through the suit, offering a relief  that  was  so
intense that Tahiri could only sigh her thanks.
     "Your coolant line was clogged," said  Arrizza,  the  Kurtzen  sanitation
worker who accompanied them on their long turbolift ride. Goure had  described
him as a part-time conspirator, but not  part  of  the  Ryn  network.  He  had
explored the inner workings of the Bakuran Senate Complex with no interest  in
taking it further. Having no political agenda, he  was  quite  happy  to  help
Goure get Tahiri in and out of the complex without being noticed.
     "I think you just  saved  my  life,"  Tahiri  said  only  half  jokingly,
wriggling in her suit to help the cool  air  reach  every  centimeter  of  her
sweat-soaked body. Her HE-suit—designed to take  minuscule  movements  of  her
limbs and magnify them, giving her increased strength and flexibility—made odd
half-stepping motions as she did so.
     " I once knew someone who died from overheating  on  the  job,"  was  the
Kurtzen's reply. "You got to look out for each other down  here."  She  didn't
quite know what to say in the face of his gruff pragmatism. "Thanks," she said
after a moment. "I'll try to remember that." The turbolift clanked to  a  halt
and the wide steel cage opened before  them.  Arrizza  went  first,  his  suit
scruffier than Goure's, if that was possible. The only real difference between
them was a belt of leather  pouches  tied  around  its  waist.  Tools,  Tahiri
presumed—although she doubted the suit's stubby fingers could handle  anything
so small with any precision.
     They walked in single file along the sub-basement access corridor. It was
easily high and wide enough for the  HE-suits,  designed  to  accommodate  all
sorts of maintenance machines. None of them droids, of  course,  she  reminded
herself—not with Bakura's distaste for automated machinery. If droids couldn't
do the dirty work, people had to. Hence the suits they were wearing.
     Arrizza was taking them to another turbolift that led directly under  the
main Senate chambers. There they could enter the complex itself, avoiding  the
tight security employed by the normal entrances. As part of  a  waste  cleanup
crew performing  the  usual  morning  rounds,  they  would  be  able  to  move
unobserved—or at least unhindered — through the lower levels of  the  complex.
They might not get into the Senate chamber itself, but they should be able  to
access the internal data networks with relative ease.
     "Do you have any idea what's going on?" she asked.
     "No. Security has been on edge since Cundertol's  kidnapping.  I  haven't
worked out who was behind it, but I know it wasn't Malinza Thanas. That's  not
her style." "Then who?" "I'm not  sure."  After  walking  awhile  in  silence,
Tahiri switched to a private channel and ventured another question.
     "You always get around in these  things?"  she  asked  as  they  trundled
along, steel boots clomping heavily on the reinforced floor.  "There  must  be
easier ways to travel." "Unfortunately the security scare  has  shut  down  my
usual sources," he said. "Especially with the  arrival  of  the  Keeramak  and
today's ceremony. It's crude, I know, but it's all I have left for now. I just
hope  it  doesn't  result  in  me  getting  caught  and  my  activities  being
discovered." 'What would happen if you were discovered? Would you be replaced?
" "Once word got out, then yes, another of my kind would be  sent  to  replace
me." " But how would word get out? If communications are down  like  they  are
now, I can't see how that could be possible." "Well, the  first  thing  we  do
when we arrive at our posts is set up plans to cover such  emergencies.  Those
of  my  family  don't  use  the  Force;  nor  do  we  rely   on   conventional
communications. That, you see, is our strength. We get into places  we're  not
supposed to simply because we are ignored, not by virtue of arcane  technology
or powers, which people are always looking for. In the same way, who notices a
note or two slipped into a cargo manifest? A whisper from a dock handler to  a
droid? Or a story innocently exchanged in a tavern? Even during communications
embargoes, Bakura receives its fair share of freighters and traders.  Everyone
needs repulsors. I use the simplest and most universal techniques of spreading
my word via those travelers. It may be slow at times, but  it  is  effective."
Tahiri fumbled with the concept. "Are you telling me you're  sort  of  a  pan-
galactic gossipmonger?" "You make it sound like a  bad  thing.  It's  actually
very effective. If one of my regular messages fails to  arrive  at  a  certain
place at a certain time every day, then a message will be sent to the next Ryn
along the chain, who will request  a  replacement."  "Who  from?"  Tahiri  was
unable to suppress her curiosity about the Ryn network.  Their  existence  had
been completely unsuspected until Galantos, but their influence seemed  to  be
as insidious as the Peace Brigaders had been.
     Goure chuckled softly. "I can't tell  you  too  much,  Tahiri.  A  secret
organization can only operate efficiently if its workings remain secret. Since
you already know we exist, I can tell you that we Ryn don't  have  a  strictly
hier-archal system like the Jedi. We do have, however, a leader who ultimately
receives the information each of us supplies. It is he who makes all the major
decisions." "Does your leader have a name?" "Of course. But to reveal it would
compromise his safety. Toward this end not even we know his real identity.  We
know that someone perceived  the  need  for  such  a  network  of  information
seekers; it was that same someone who trained me—and many  others  like  me—in
the art of infiltration and sent us to our posts. Mark my words: a  time  will
come when there will be songs sung about him, if they aren't  already."  Goure
stopped as they reached the second turbolift. It was as battered and well used
as everything else on this level. With a deep groan it slid  open;  when  they
were inside it lurched upward. Tahiri found her hands reaching for  the  sides
to steady herself; every muscle tensed uneasily. She distracted  herself  with
another question.
     "How can songs be sung about someone who  has  no  name?"  A  noise  like
wheezing issued from Goure's HE-suit speakers that, while it  might  not  have
particularly sounded like it, Tahiri knew nonetheless to be a  laugh.  "You're
so practical, aren't you?" Before  he  could  answer  her  question,  however,
Arrizza had raised a hand and waved the two of them to silence.
     "We're almost there," he said. "Remember the arrangement." Tahiri  nodded
inside her all-encompassing helmet. From now on, they  were  to  address  each
other only as Yon, Gaitzi, and Scod, members of an underground  cleaning  gang
nicknamed the Tripod.
     The lift platform grated to a halt a second later, and the massive  doors
slid open  again,  revealing  another  service  corridor  that  seemed  little
different from the one they'd left below—except this one terminated in  a  set
of thick blast doors after only a few meters. Tahiri followed  Arrizza  as  he
approached it, imitating the  heavy  lope  of  his  HE-suit  in  the  hope  of
radiating the impression that she was as comfortable in the  bulky  outfit  as
she would have been in normal clothing.
     "Identify," a voice blared from the other side of the door.  Laser  beams
tracked the suits, reading ident codes painted in various reflective paints.
     "Tripod duty," Arrizza said in a bored tone. After only  a  few  seconds'
waiting, he added gruffly, "Come on, Schifil! Let us in, will you?  I  haven't
got all day." "And so much important work to do, eh?"  The  double  door  slid
open with a hydraulic hiss. "There's a block in Compactor J earmarked for your
attention, Yon. You must've been a bad boy last night." Arrizza  just  grunted
as he led them past the security checkpoint.  Two  guards  in  an  open  booth
watched them pass, weapons slung across their laps and smirks on their  faces.
The HE-suits could have crushed them like bugs, but physical strength  was  no
match for superior social status.
     Tahiri filed subserviently past, putting a  hunched  sway  to  her  heavy
lurch that she thought suitable for a low-grade worker. So focused was she  on
her performance that it took her a moment to realize that one  of  the  guards
was talking to her.
     She stopped, turning slowly, using the seconds to reach into the  guard's
mind to discover that he thought he was talking to the cleaner called Gaitzi.
     "Got a kiss for me today, Gaitzi?" the guard asked, puckering grotesquely
while his partner laughed.
     Tahiri improvised a suitably moist smacking sound with  her  lips  before
turning away and moving on.
     "Delightful," Goure muttered once they had  cleared  the  checkpoint  and
were safely following Arrizza  into  the  underbelly  of  the  Bakuran  Senate
Complex. "It never ceases to amaze me  what  happens  to  the  males  of  most
species when you give them a gun and put them in a uniform."  "I  suppose  the
male Ryn are above all that, are they?" Tahiri said dryly.
     "Actually, we are!" he defended  indignantly.  "That's  why  we  work  in
secrecy, with no fancy titles or privileges. We exist  to  oppose  such  self-
aggrandizing methods used by groups like the Peace Brigade. In fact, rumor has
it that our founder was inspired by the Great River—the network of safe houses
and escape routes founded by Master Skywalker in order to save the  Jedi  from
betrayal." "Is that why the Ryn helped us back on  Galantos?"  "News  of  what
happened there has yet to filter down to me," he said. " But yes, if the Peace
Brigade were there then we would have done what we could to resist them.  Look
on it as our contribution to the war effort. We can't take on the Yuuzhan Vong
directly—not even we could infiltrate their society—so we aim lower, at  those
who rot the Galactic Alliance from within." "A second line of defense," Tahiri
suggested.
     "We like to think of it as the first line,"  he  countered.  "There's  no
point defeating the Yuuzhan Vong if we defeat ourselves in  the  process."  As
cryptic  as  that  sounded,  it  echoed  Jacen's  philosophical  uncertainties
regarding the consequences of winning the war by violence alone. It also hit a
little close to where her own problems lived.
     "We're not really going to have to unclog that garbage compactor, are we?
" she asked by way of changing the subject, thinking not just of the mounds of
steaming refuse but the closing walls as well.
     "No," Arrizza said. "You just go about your business. I'll make sure  the
chores get done." "We have signals we can send each other if we're  needed  at
either end," Goure explained.
     "If you're bothered by anyone," the Kurtzen added, "or you split up, just
tell security that your localizers have been scrambled and you're looking  for
Sector C. I'll find you there." Tahiri nodded.
     They reached a T-junction and split  up  without  another  word:  Arrizza
heading off to the right to perform the functions of the cleanup crew,  Tahiri
and Goure stomping down the left corridor to begin their reconnaissance.  From
that moment on, Tahiri knew, the risk multiplied. She didn't know how  closely
the cleaning crews were monitored, or how deeply they could move  through  the
complex before someone noticed that they weren't following the usual  routine;
all she could do was work quickly, and hope that they were given  enough  time
to do what they'd come to do.
     Goure led her on a  long  and  winding  route  through  the  sub-basement
levels, occasionally taking turbolifts up or down floors, or detouring through
warehouses full of sealed containers.
     "There's more to the complex than meets the  eye,"  she  commented  after
passing through an enormous underground bunker packed to the ceiling with food
rations.
     "After the war with the Ssi-ruuk, it was redesigned as a shelter,"  Goure
explained. "The Senate and a large proportion of the population of Salis D'aar
could survive down here a considerable length of time—as long as the  barriers
to the surface weren't breached, of course." "And if they  were?"  "There's  a
weapons cache, too," the Ryn replied. "Enough for a small  army.  Believe  me:
they wouldn't go down without a  fight."  Given  the  horrors  of  entechment,
Tahiri could understand the lengths the Senate had gone to  avoid  them.  With
the specter of enslavement and death hanging over them for decades, fear of  a
return invasion must have been deeply entrenched. No wonder, then,  that  some
people were reluctant to have anything to do with the  P'w'eck,  whether  they
were former slaves themselves or not.
     So why the sudden turnaround? she wondered. Princess Leia  had  commented
that Prime Minister Cundertol had been anti-alien  when  serving  on  the  New
Republic Senate, so why had that changed now?
     She forced herself to put the matter aside and concentrate on  the  issue
at hand. " If they put food and weapons down here," she said, "there  must  be
some sort of command hub as well." "Exactly," Goure replied. "And that's where
we're headed." They took a small detour to gather a  floating  floor-polishing
machine, then continued on their way. They passed through  an  empty  security
checkpoint and went down one more turbolift.  Tahiri  constantly  checked  the
spaces around them for any  sign  of  habitation,  but  the  sub-basement  was
uniformly empty. They could have been wandering the well-preserved ruins of an
ancient, abandoned city, for all she could tell.
     But there were still security cams at every corner. All it would take was
for one person to become suspicious...
     Two large, molded doors slid aside to  reveal  the  unused  command  hub.
Tahiri and Goure strode confidently inside, as though they visited there every
day. Rather than crane her  hydraulic  neck,  she  sent  her  HE-suit  sensors
sweeping across the empty workstations and dormant holoprojectors.  There  was
room for fifty or more people to work around a raised circular dais where, she
presumed, the Prime Minister and his chief officers would conduct business  in
times of war. Although it had clearly been empty for many years, there was  an
air of  preparedness  to  the  place—a  hint  of  anticipation  in  the  dusty
durasteel—as though it was waiting for its moment to come.
     It might yet, she thought cynically, if the Keeramak's intentions are not
what they seem.
     Goure came to a halt in the middle of the vast  room  and  activated  the
cleaning machine. Swinging it back and forth, he spoke over its patient whine:
" Look like you're cleaning. I'll slice into the systems and see if I can find
Jaina. Switch your monitors to channel seventeen so that you  can  monitor  my
progress." "Won't someone notice what we're doing?" "Not if I'm good  enough."
He smiled at her through his faceplate. "And I am good enough." More seriously
he added, "Although we need to be in the hub to access its networks, we  don't
want to do anything obvious like switch on the displays. The HE-suits  can  do
the job for us." Again the heavy shoulders of  his  suit  flexed.  "I  suspect
we're only going to get one shot at this, so we have to make it count." Tahiri
acknowledged the instruction and did as he told her,  making  a  big  show  of
using her suit's strength and flexibility for the sake of anyone that might be
watching. All the time she was working, she kept one eye on Goure's  progress,
using the upper half of her helmet's interior as a crude VR  hood.  At  first,
she saw nothing but line after line of complex  machine  code  as  he  used  a
number of simple techniques to infiltrate the complex's low-security networks.
From there the job became much tougher, and it took him a while to break  into
the next layer. There he gained access to administrative data, such as arrests
and releases, but there was no mention of Jaina.
     Another twenty minutes' code work took Goure right into the heart of  the
Bakuran bureaucracy, where he said the true  secrets  were  stored.  At  first
Tahiri was amazed at his ability, until she remembered  that  the  Ryn  had  a
reputation for being capable slicers. Not only that, but Ba-kura, a system  on
the isolated edge of the Rim worlds, probably didn't possess the sophisticated
software required to guarantee silence—the kind she took for granted  back  on
Mon Cal. Nevertheless, peeling back the system's strongest defenses  in  under
an hour and a half was still impressive.
     "Interesting," he muttered at one point.
     "You found something?" Tahiri was immediately interested. She was growing
tired of polishing and dusting.
     "Not about Jaina, I'm afraid. I've managed to access hidden  holocams  in
rooms that aren't supposed to have them." The view through the top half of her
hood changed to a video feed, and she saw a wide, circular bed  surrounded  by
lush drapes.
     "Looks like someone has been doing a little spying," Tahiri said.
     "I doubt it. Probably just an overzealous security chief.  You  see  this
kind of thing wherever you go. It's a case of the left hand not  trusting  the
right." He scanned through more  hidden  cams,  glancing  at  more  supposedly
secure rooms. The picture quality varied from full 3-D  to  grainy  black-and-
white 2-D. Mostly the footage was of empty offices or of Senators going  about
early-morning preparations for the  consecration  ceremony.  Nothing  terribly
exciting.
     After flitting through numerous cam points of view, Tahiri  was  starting
to wonder whether they were ever going to find anything useful. Then — "Wait!"
she called out. "Go back!" But Goure was already onto it, recalling the  image
of Han and Leia and manipulating it to bring it into focus. They were standing
in a plushly appointed  office  opposite  Prime  Minister  Cundertol's  broad,
polished desk. Leia's expression was carefully composed, as always, but  there
was no mistaking Han's frustration.
     Tahiri was about to ask if there was any sound when Goure provided it.
     "—understand your concern," Cundertol was  saying,  "but  at  this  stage
there really is nothing I can do-especially when it  appears  that  she  might
have been com-plicit in the escape of a dangerous criminal." Han bristled. "If
she helped Malinza escape, then it had to be for a good reason." "Be  that  as
it may, Captain Solo, the fact  remains  that  she  broke  the  law.  If  your
daughter believed in Malinza's innocence, then there  are  legal  avenues  she
could have pursued. However, as things stand, you have to see  that  my  hands
are tied. From a legal point of view, it is hard to deny that she is  guilty."
"Of helping an innocent woman escape!" Han said.
     "Malinza Thanas is hardly an innocent," the Prime Minister said  gravely.
"She and her band of insurrectionists have done more than enough damage to the
peace of Bakura to warrant her outlaw status. It was time she was  put  away."
"But you yourself thought she was innocent!" Han blustered, incredulous.
     Cundertol's expression was one of mystified  puzzlement.  "Whatever  gave
you that idea?" Leia broke in calmly,  averting  an  explosion  of  Corel-lian
proportions. "Prime Minister, it's my suspicion that Jaina has been set up. We
were contacted by someone claiming to have information for us. Acting on  that
information, Jaina went to visit Malinza Thanas—but only  to  speak  with  the
girl. She certainly never went there  to  help  Malinza  escape.  If  she  did
participate, it would only have been under coercion." "So why hasn't she  come
forward to explain herself?" Cundertol asked. "The footage clearly  shows  her
leading Thanas out of the penitentiary of her own  free  will.  There  was  no
coercion." "Then she was tricked into it," Leia said.
     "Why?" "If we knew that," Han snarled, "then we wouldn't be  wasting  our
time with you, would we? We'd fix the problem ourselves." Leia put a  hand  on
her husband's shoulder. "We don't mean to criticize," she said. "We are simply
concerned about the well-being of our daughter." "And what  about  your  other
companion? The other Jedi? Has she returned yet?" Han's  scowl  deepened,  but
Leia's expression  remained  calm  and  sober.  "Unfortunately,  no.  And  I'm
becoming concerned about her safety, too." "So that  makes  two  Jedi  Knights
roaming Salis D'aar unchecked. I'm sure you'll forgive me for suggesting  that
anything underhanded is going on, but the timing is uncanny.  One  day  before
Bakura is due to cement a lasting peace  with  its  old  enemy,  the  Galactic
Alliance turns up and throws everything into disorder. I can't help but wonder
whether you want us to sever ties with the rest  of  the  galaxy.  Or  perhaps
there is something you still need from us that you fear we will no longer give
you..." "I don't think you believe that, Prime Minister," Leia said, unruffled
by the accusations. "You know us, and  you  know  that  we  only  act  in  the
interest of peace." "I'm afraid I have yet to see any evidence  whatsoever  to
support this, Princess." At that moment, a high-pitched buzzing  sound  issued
from the Prime Minister's desk. In one smooth movement,  Cundertol  stood  and
smoothed  back  his  hair.  The  change  in  his  behavior  was  striking.  As
unperturbed as he had been by Han's threatening manner, a tinny  alarm  seemed
to leave him quite flustered.
     "I'm sorry, but  you  really  must  excuse  me;  that  will  be  my  next
appointment. You can rest assured, though, that we will be doing everything in
our power to find the missing Jedi Knights—along with Malinza Thanas."  Almost
as an  afterthought,  he  added,  "I  trust  we  will  see  you  both  at  the
consecration ceremony. It's only a short time away now, and I do not wish  you
to feel that because of the recent developments, we would be so churlish as to
rescind our invitation to you. Princess Leia, Captain  Solo:  you  remain  our
honored guests until such time as we have  cause  to  think  otherwise."  Leia
practically had to drag her husband from the office. They  were  both  clearly
unsatisfied by the audience with the Prime Minister, but even Tahiri, watching
from afar, could see that they could do little about it just then.
     As the door shut behind them, Cundertol sat back down. For a long  moment
he was completely still—as though gathering his thoughts in meditation.
     "Leia mentioned you," Tahiri said to Goure. "You're the who contacted us,
who sent Jaina into the penitentiary. She probably thinks you're  involved  in
whatever trouble Jaina's in." "Which is all the more reason to find  out  what
happened to her. Let's see if we can pick up something in—' "Wait; look!"  The
door to Cundertol's office had opened again. Four dull-scaled  P'w'eck  guards
walked in, dressed in elaborate leather harnesses and wearing  paddle  beamers
at their sides. They  spread  out  on  either  side  of  the  desk  and  gazed
suspiciously around the room.  Lwothin  then  lumbered  in,  and  behind  him,
walking serenely and with  consummate  grace,  came  a  figure  that,  broadly
speaking, resembled a P'w'eck, but was in almost every detail something  quite
different.
     The Keeramak, Tahiri thought. She couldn't help but admire the creature's
beautifully swirled, multicolored scales. The pattern they made shimmered with
rainbow hues under the bright lights of the office. Every  movement  sent  new
sparkles dancing. The Ssi-ruuvi physique was that of a refined  hunter,  honed
by thousands of years of dominance over the stunted, nervous-looking P'w'ecks.
The Keeramak's posture was straighter and its poise more balanced;  its  limbs
were longer, its muscles sleeker, and its eyes glinted  with  an  intelligence
and cunning that made Advance Leader Lwothin look about as threatening  as  an
Ewok.
     Two more P'w'eck guards followed. The doors shut firmly behind them.  The
Keeramak strode right up to Cundertol's desk and stood there, its  thick  tail
swishing.
     Cundertol rose and bowed formally.
     The Keeramak said something in the powerful, deep  fluting  of  the  Ssi-
ruuvi tongue. Tahiri listened for a translation, but none came. Cundertol  had
an earplug, she assumed, feeding the Keeramak's words  in  Basic  directly  to
him. That was unfortunate, but not a disaster.
     At least we can still hear his reply, Tahiri thought.
     But what happened next took her completely by surprise. When the Keeramak
had finished speaking, Prime Minister Cundertol opened his mouth  and  replied
to the alien in fluent Ssi-ruuvi—a language that no human could possibly dream
of pronouncing.
     Tahiri stared at the screen, watching Cundertol's larynx bob up and  down
in a highly unusual fashion as a rapid series of flutes issued from his mouth.
     "This isn't possible," she said, stunned.
     Cundertol's speech was  interrupted  by  a  loud  interjection  from  the
Keeramak. A clawed hand  grasped  air  between  the  two  of  them.  Cundertol
protested at something, but the Keeramak cut him off again.  Finally,  with  a
sour expression, he nodded and sat back in his seat, folding his  arms  across
his chest.
     He spoke again in the alien language, to  which  the  Keeramak  responded
with a snort that might have been Ssi-ruuvi laughter. Lwothin  tried  to  lean
into the conversation, but the Keeramak batted him  roughly  aside.  Cundertol
smiled at this.
     "I don't like the look of this," Tahiri said.
     "Me neither," Goure replied. "If only there was some way I  could  record
this—or at least patch it into a translator. But I  can't  do  either  without
alerting security." "Then maybe that's what we need to do,"  Tahiri  said.  "I
mean, someone needs to know about this!" The words had barely  left  her  lips
when the exchange between Cundertol and the Keeramak ended. The Prime Minister
stood and offered another slight bow. Lwothin and his  Ssi-ruuvi  leader  left
the room, flanked by their armed bodyguard.
     When he was alone again, Cundertol fell heavily into his seat once  more,
this time with a relieved expression on his face.
     "I've no idea what just happened," Goure said, "but you're right: we have
to tell someone about  it."  "Tell  them  what,  though?"  Tahiri  asked.  The
incident was only seconds  in  the  past,  and  already  she  was  finding  it
difficult to credit—so how were others going to believe  them  without  proof?
"Do we just come out and say that the Prime Minister might  be  some  sort  of
human/Ssi-ruu hybrid? They're never going to believe us!"  "There  is  someone
who might," Goure said thoughtfully.
     "Who?" "This kind of thing would  undoubtedly  end  Cunder-tol's  career—
regardless of what his intentions might be. Who do you think  would  stand  to
gain the  most  from  that?"  Tahiri  nodded.  "The  Deputy  Prime  Minister."
"Exactly. He has a motive for doing something, as well as the power to make it
happen quickly. If we can just  get  to  him—"  "—before  the  ceremony!"  she
finished for him. "If the Keeramak is planning to  double-cross  Bakura,  then
we'll need to act before then. The only thing  stopping  them  from  attacking
openly is fear for their souls. Once Bakura is  consecrated,  there'll  be  no
stopping them." "Agreed. And that doesn't leave us much time."  The  image  of
Prime Minister Cundertol winked out and was replaced by  a  flowchart  of  the
complex's communications network. "Now, where exactly is Harris at the moment?
" Before he could pinpoint the Deputy Prime Minister, a blaring voice rang out
through the empty command hub.
     "Attention, cleaning crew. On whose instructions are you  acting?"  Goure
activated an external comlink,  his  voice  erupting  uncomfortably  close  to
Tahiri's right ear. "Supervisor Jakaitis, sir."  "Supervisor  Jakaitis  denies
requesting a crew in that location," came the instant reply. "Your presence is
not authorized." "I'm sure if  you  were  to  ask  him  again—"  "You  are  in
violation of Sections Four through Sixteen of the Secrecy  Act.  Remain  where
you are until a squad arrives. You will be escorted to a  holding  area  where
you will be formally processed." The feed from the command hub ceased.
     Tahiri cursed under her breath and, despite the air-conditioning unit  of
her suit, started to sweat again. They'd been paying  too  much  attention  to
Cundertol, and not enough on maintaining the pretence of manual labor.
     Now that they'd been sprung, security would almost certainly be listening
in on them. Goure butted the helmet of his HE-suit against Tahiri's to  ensure
they could speak without being overheard. At  least  their  identities  hadn't
been revealed.
     "There goes that plan," he said.
     "We have to get out of here." An uneasy feeling was growing  inside  her.
She couldn't sense anyone nearby, but the security squad might just as  easily
consist of droids.
     "Don't worry," he said. "We will. Follow me and  do  exactly  as  I  do."
"What about Harris?" "I found him before they cut us off," Goure said. "All we
have to do is get to him." "And Arrizza?" "He can look after himself. Come on!
" Before she could ask anything else, he'd pulled away and  was  powering  his
suit toward the exit. Although bulky and not designed exclusively  for  speed,
the massive constructs could move quickly when they had to. She followed,  the
pounding of her heavy feet vibrating up through her  metal  legs  and  jarring
into her body. The sound of hydros straining was loud in her ears.
     Goure led her back to the first  turbolift  they'd  taken.  Knowing  that
security would be watching them, he didn't even consider taking  it.  Instead,
he took Tahiri along another series of corridors to a spiraling stairwell. The
stairs shook precariously under their combined weight, but it was better  than
being trapped in a lift, waiting to be arrested.
     They climbed ten floors without interruption. Concern about the stability
of the stairs became a worry of a very different kind when two  black  spheres
dropped from above, wailing and flashing warning lights.
     "Security droids!" Goure yelled, his  voice  echoing  from  his  speakers
through the stairwell.
     Tahiri looked up. Restricted to the stairs, the droids had  dropped  down
the center of the stairwell shaft. Thankfully there were only two, but she had
no doubt that others would soon follow. Their stun  prods  would  be  harmless
against the HE-suits' armor, but they  had  more  powerful  weapons  at  their
disposal.
     "You are under arrest!" they announced. "You are under arrest! Drop  your
weapons and cease all movement!" Not likely, Tahiri thought, opening  a  metal
hatch on the outside of the suit and reaching inside. Before climbing into the
suit, she had hidden her lightsaber among the cleaning tools  in  case  of  an
emergency such as this. It felt tiny in her giant metal fist,  and  she  would
have to concentrate twice as hard to fight the natural clumsiness of the suit,
but she instantly felt better for having it in her hand.
     "No!" Goure shouted, seeing what she was doing. "If you activate it  then
they'll know who you are!" What difference will that make? she wanted to shout
back. If they didn't already know, they would as soon as she was arrested  and
forced to step out of the suit.
     But an instinct told her to trust Goure. He didn't  seem  to  be  running
without purpose. Wherever he was taking her, he obviously thought  they  could
get away. And there were ways to fight that didn't involve using a lightsaber.
     She sent a psychokinetic pulse to knock out the nearest  droid.  It  spun
out of control, showering sparks as it rolled crazily around  the  stone  wall
before plummeting to the bottom of the stairwell. The  second  backed  away  a
meter or so, its weapon arms rising threateningly.  She  sent  a  power  surge
through its repulsorlift circuits, sending it upward to a fate similar to  the
first. Its screams of protest faded rapidly as it disappeared into the shadows
above.
     "Good work," Goure said, reaching up to  smash  a  nearby  security  cam.
"Now, through here." They left the stairwell thirteen floors above  the  level
of the secret command hub. The area they entered  wasn't  designed  for  heavy
maintenance, and Tahiri had to stoop to fit into the  corridor.  Goure  didn't
bother. The top of his metal head scraped against the ceiling,  lifting  tiles
and smashing light fittings, leaving a trail of wreckage behind him.  Whenever
he passed a security cam, he didn't pause. He just reached out and crushed  it
without so much as breaking step.
     "I take it you know where  you're  going?"  Tahiri  asked.  Her  previous
confidence in him was starting to wane. She couldn't help  wonder  whether  he
really did have a plan or whether he was just intent on causing as much damage
as possible.
     "If my memory serves me correctly, there should be  a  maintenance  shaft
somewhere..." Ahead of them was a two-meter-wide, cylindrical  column  running
from floor to ceiling. Goure stepped up to it and used his suit's strength  to
tear through the column's side. Within, Tahiri saw numerous coiled cables  and
pipes. Clearly, the  column  stretched  many  floors  above  and  below  them,
delivering essential services to the areas around it.
     Goure spent a moment searching for the cable he needed. Frustration  soon
took hold and he started pulling out handfuls at random.
     "Come on," Tahiri muttered, glancing around nervously, checking for signs
of the other security droids. They couldn't be far behind.
     Sparks and steam hissed and spat from the column as the powerful hands of
Goure's HE-suit tore through wires and conduits. When he was up to his  elbows
in bubbling fluid  and  smoking  insulator,  he  clutched  both  hands  around
something he'd found deep inside and gave a mighty wrench.
     Instantly the lights went out  around  them  and  the  entire  floor  was
plunged into darkness.
     "Okay," she heard him  say  somewhat  breathlessly.  Tahiri  switched  to
infrared to see him step back from the column, then move over to a ventilation
shaft and pull it open. "We haven't got much time. This isn't  going  to  hold
them for long." There was a hiss as his HE-suit cracked  down  the  back.  His
head emerged from the seam, followed by his arms.  Tahiri  reached  around  to
give him a hand. Her HE-suit lifted him as though he were  a  doll,  his  tail
lashing in obvious relief at being freed from its confinement.
     "Slave your control circuits to mine before you come out," he  instructed
her. She did so, and then clicked the FAST-RELEASE button. She inhaled deeply,
appreciating the fresh, cool air that immediately swept across her body.
     "Now  what?"  she  asked,  retrieving  her  lightsaber  from  the  suit's
unresisting fist.
     Goure pointed at the open shaft. "We  climb.  But  first..."  He  reached
under his suit's armpit and flicked a switch.  Both  suits  whirred  shut  and
turned to stride quickly away, each leaving a trail  of  destruction  as  they
walked through the low-ceilinged corridors.
     "Now that's a trail no one could miss," he said, his face briefly lit  by
sparks as the suits marched away into the darkness. "I've programmed  them  to
run free, heading up whenever they can. If they reach  the  stairwell,  things
could get interesting. If not—well, they'll gain us a minute or two, at least.
" He helped her into the shaft, then followed, replacing the cover behind him.
     "There should be a central air shaft not far from  here,"  he  explained.
"When we find it, we go up. Once  we  reach  the  surface,  we  can  look  for
somewhere to come out of the  shaft.  From  there  we're  free."  "Hopefully,"
Tahiri added.
     Goure nodded grimly.  "Hopefully."  "And  what  about  the  Deputy  Prime
Minister?" "As long as Harris doesn't go too far, we should be  able  to  find
him in time. But we've only got an hour before the  ceremony  starts,  and  we
have seventeen floors to climb." "Then we'd better get  moving,  wouldn't  you
say?" Outside the shaft,  emergency  lighting  flickered  into  life.  In  the
distance, they could hear the pounding of the suits' feet and the  crackle  of
blasterfire.
     In the shadowy and reddish darkness,  Goure  nodded  again,  and  without
another word the two of them began to crawl.
     "What do you mean, you prefer to leave the fighting to your sister?"  Wyn
Antilles stared at Jacen as though  he'd  gone  mad.  With  her  severe  black
uniform and blond hair pulled back, she looked like  a  schoolgirl  trying  to
impersonate a Grand Moff; she might have known the rules, but she didn't  have
the maturity to pull it off.
     "Where I come from,"  Jacen  responded  good-naturedly,  "we  don't  have
customs prohibiting women from fighting in battle. In fact, I didn't think you
had here, either." "We don't," she said. "That would just  be  stupid-wouldn't
it, Commander Irolia?" The Chiss officer nodded stiffly from the far  side  of
the table, where she was watching Jacen input data  from  the  library  search
into data-pads for further analysis. Wyn had joined Jacen and  Danni  as  they
reviewed their data electronically, while the other members of the  group  had
continued to talk with the  girl's  parents.  Initially,  Wyn  had  been  very
excited at meeting Jacen, and was keen to talk to him  about  the  search  for
Zonama Sekot. But when this conversation ebbed, the girl had obviously decided
it might be fun to lock horns with Jacen, determinedly teasing out  his  place
in the mission and the universe in general. He couldn't figure out if she  was
genuinely interested in what  he  had  to  say  or  if  she  was  deliberately
antagonizing him, trying to see how far she could actually push a Jedi  before
his patience cracked...
     "All I meant was that you should fight when you have to. Your preferences
don't come into it. Your enemy won't stand down just because you don't want to
fight. You either rise to  the  occasion  or  you  die."  Harsh  words,  Jacen
thought, coming from one so young. But with her pedigree, he reminded himself,
and the culture and times in which she'd been educated, perhaps it  wasn't  so
surprising.
     "I guess what I should have said was that  I  prefer  to  put  myself  in
situations where skills other than those involving combat will save the  day."
He tried to put his feelings into words with consummate precision, not wanting
to give her the chance to leap on another ambiguity. Fatigue wasn't making  it
easy, though. "Not every conflict can  be  solved  with  violence,  Wyn.  Some
become exponentially more difficult to solve once  violence  has  entered  the
equation. The Force may need both sides of life—birth and death—in order to be
balanced, but that doesn't meant we can't look for  peaceful  solutions.  It's
the same if violence seems to be the only—or indeed  the  easiest—option."  To
his relief, Wyn acknowledged his point with a thoughtful  nod.  "Okay,  I  can
understand that. But what about your sister?  How  does  she  feel  about  you
letting her risk her life exercising the 'easy' option?" "I don't think it's a
case of me letting  her  do  anything,"  he  said.  "She's  simply  better  at
following that path when the need for it arises. While I spend  half  my  life
philosophically pondering the way of things, she focuses her energies  on  the
exterior, on what she can change. But as far as I'm concerned, deep down we're
still addressing the same problem—just from different angles."  "You  carry  a
lightsaber," Wyn pointed out.
     He shrugged. "It's a symbol of a Jedi—just like the insignia on Commander
Irolia's uniform." "Nevertheless, the weapon at your side seems out  of  place
on a man who says he dislikes violence." How do I answer that? he wondered. If
I say that I don't hate violence, I undermine everything I've told her.  If  I
confirm that I do, I make a mockery of my own convictions. Is this the  corner
I've backed myself into?
     "Haven't we drifted off the topic a little here?" Danni said,  stretching
tiredly. "We were looking for Zonama Sekot, remember?" Jacen  nodded.  It  had
been an exhausting session, and one that had only been  partially  successful.
The number of "hits"—systems where stories of  a  wandering  planet  had  been
recorded—was reaching a plateau; they quickly ran out of the  ones  that  were
easiest to find. So far they had sixty confirmed or suspected appearances in a
forty-year period spanning from shortly before the formation of the Empire  to
some years after. Wherever it was that  Zonama  Sekot  had  settled  down,  it
seemed to have done so about twenty years before the arrival of  the  Yuu-zhan
Vong.
     "But you said before that you were probably looking in the wrong  place,"
Wyn said.
     Danni sighed, and when she spoke there was no mistaking  the  frustration
in her tone. "We're looking primarily through sociological records," she said.
"Astronomical data would be our best bet. We need  to  look  specifically  for
systems that have adopted a new planet in their habitable zones, whether those
zones are inhabited or not." "But there are hundreds of thousands of stars  in
and around Chiss space," Wyn said. "Plus about the same number again of orphan
worlds drifting in interstellar space. There must be planets captured and lost
all  the  time."  "Actually,  no."  After  Danni's  success  at  cracking  the
biological secrets of the Yuuzhan  Vong,  it  was  easy  to  forget  that  her
original specialization was astronomy. "Although the  capture  of  extra-solar
planets does happen quite naturally, it's a very  rare  event—and  even  rarer
right in the middle of the habitable zone. A large percentage of those systems
have been visited more than once by droid probes on deep-survey missions,  and
the basic configurations of the others would have  been  atleast  recorded  by
large-scale interferometric detectors in nearby  systems.  The  Chiss  checked
every target system at least twice in the last sixty years. Any  discrepancies
would show up in even the most basic scan." Wyn nodded. "We  could  set  up  a
sweep to look for stuff that was added to any of the systems on record. I  can
talk to Tris and—" She stopped as  Luke  appeared  from  one  of  the  aisles,
followed closely by Saba. "Sorry to interrupt," he  said.  "We've  decided  to
bring Shadow to a closer spaceport. If you'd like to clean up and have a rest,
then this might be your best chance." "I think I'd settle  for  either,  right
now," Danni said.
     "What about you, Saba?" Luke said, facing the Bara-bel. She was  bringing
another heavy-looking tome to read.
     "A shower soundz good," she said. The exhaustion was clearly  evident  in
her voice. "Even the best hunterz need to wash." "Okay, then we'll see you all
shortly at the barge," Luke said. "When we come back, we'll bring  Artoo  with
us. He might be able to help us search through the less obvious data." "That's
a good idea," Danni said, rising to her feet. She faced Jacen.  "You  coming?"
He shook his head. "I think I'll  stay  here.  Someone  has  to  keep  looking
through the data we've collected. There's a lot to get through, and we've only
one day left." Danni's disappointment was obvious,  but  Luke  agreed  with  a
cautious nod. "Don't overdo it, Jacen. I'm sure Commander Irolia  can  provide
you with a bunk and a 'fresher if you decide you need one." "Of  course,"  the
commander said.
     "Syal and Soontir will be coming with us on the ice barge," Luke went on.
"Obviously you're welcome  to  come  as  well,  Wyn,  if  you're  interested."
"Actually, I think I'll stay and help  Jacen,  if  that's  all  right?"  Jacen
nodded. "No problem. We can begin that search you thought of,  Danni.  And  if
anything comes up, I promise to call, okay?" Danni glanced at Jacen  and  Wyn,
offering a curt and unenthusiastic nod. "Sure," she  said,  then  faced  Luke.
"How soon do we leave?" "Right now if you like." "Sounds good  to  me,"  Danni
said. Then, with the faintest glance at Wyn, added: "The sooner  the  better."
Jacen's uncle, aunt, and Lieutenant Stalgis left for the barge  with  a  brief
farewell to everyone, followed shortly by Danni and Saba.
     "So, what do you want to do?" Wyn asked when everyone had gone. "I  could
show you around, if you want. Or there's always—" "I don't think that's such a
good idea." Jacen cut her off firmly but  gently.  Commander  Irolia  silently
took up position against the far wall—a position that allowed her to  keep  an
eye on both Jacen and Wyn. "There really isn't much time before  the  deadline
runs out, and if we don't learn anything, then we're back where  we  started."
The girl rolled her eyes, sighing with only a half-serious look  of  rejection
on her face. "Then we'd better get going," she said.
     No, thought Jacen. That's exactly what they wouldn't be able  to  do.  If
they ever did find what they were looking for, then everything would be  blown
wide open. It would be the beginning of the end of everything they had come to
take for granted these last few years.
     He kept this to himself. When he thought of  the  future,  the  image  he
received from the Force  was  invariably  clouded.  His  vision  of  a  galaxy
slipping into darkness still burned inside him, and he didn't  like  to  think
that any failure on his part might contribute to  such  an  out-come.  He  was
determined to bring his uncle's peaceful solution into being.  And  despite  a
twinge of guilt, he couldn't allow Wyn's feelings to get in the way of that.
     I should have known better...
     Jaina struggled to get a grip on the  world  around  her  as  suffocating
folds of unconsciousness tried to drag her back  down.  The  only  signal  she
received from her body was that of a burning sensation  between  her  shoulder
blades, where she'd been shot. She suspected that she  hadn't  been  seriously
hurt, but the blaster's stun setting had  been  on  the  high  side,  and  her
nervous system was still a bit scrambled.
     When the darkness finally began to recede and she managed to haul herself
out into daylight, she couldn't tell if weeks or minutes had passed.  Moaning,
she tried to move, but found that Salkeli had bound her arms and legs  tightly
together. There was a translucent hood over her head, too.
     "I see you're awake," she heard him say from close by, his  voice  raised
over the steady whining of his land-speeder's motor. From the  way  the  world
bumped and slewed beneath her,  she  guessed  that  she  was  slumped  on  the
reclined seat of the vehicle. Despite her situation, she actually  found  this
thought reassuring; it suggested that she hadn't been out too long, after all.
     "Where are you taking me?" she asked.
     "To meet someone." "Who?" "It's not important. He has money,  and  that's
all that concerns me right now." She reached into herself to  find  her  still
center, hoping to pluck his intentions directly from his mind, but  her  focus
was scattered by the pain and disorientation.
     "You betrayed them," she said disgustedly.
     "Do you mean Freedom?" "You sold them out." "They did it to themselves. I
mean, what do they expect? You go up against the  big  cannons,  you  have  to
expect to get shot." " But you were the one pulling the trigger." "Better that
than be on the receiving end. Besides, if they hadn't caused so much  trouble,
this might never have happened." "So they were getting close to someone?" "You
really think you're going to get any information out of me?"  He  laughed.  "I
don't think so, Jedi." She tried again to use the Force and this time  felt  a
flicker of response. She clutched at it as though it were a  life  raft.  "You
could just release me," she said,  putting  as  much  persuasion  as  possible
behind the words. "I'm of no importance—" "You're right," he said. "So I might
as well shoot you now and be done with it." She heard  him  pull  the  blaster
from its holster.
     "No, wait!" The bolt took her in the shoulder,  hurling  her  again  into
darkness.
     Hundreds of thousands of stars.
     It was easy to say the words, but much more difficult to comprehend  what
they actually meant. On a map, the Unknown Regions comprised only  15  percent
of the total volume of the galaxy; but when that 15 percent became the  search
area for something as small as a planet-which, on a cosmic  scale,  was  much,
much smaller than a needle in a haystack—the true immensity of the task became
all too apparent.
     And they had to do it in just two days!
     Jacen  concentrated  on  scouring  through  data  Saba  and   Danni   had
discovered, while Wyn worked on the search algorithm. There were thousands  of
mission reports to scan through. Wandering asteroids and close encounters with
comets were common, and it wasn't always easy  to  distinguish  these  from  a
mysterious planetary appearance. He soon lost  track  of  all  the  unfamiliar
names among the thousands of people and places he came across.
     "Who's this Jer'Jo Cam'Co who keeps cropping up in the records?" he asked
Wyn.
     The girl looked up and shrugged. "Beats me." "Jer'Jo Cam'Co  was  one  of
our founding syndics," Irolia said from where she'd kept patiently out of  the
way while Wyn and Jacen worked. "He proposed the  Expansionary  Defense  Fleet
after a series of exploratory expeditions turned up numerous vital resources."
Jacen nodded. That would explain why the man's name was  on  so  many  of  the
older reports. There were at least seven vessels  named  after  him,  and  two
systems. There had been no mention of him in any of the old or recent Republic
records—which only went to show just how much there was still to  learn  about
the Chiss.
     It amused him, therefore, when Wyn demonstrated that the ignorance worked
both ways.
     "Tell me," she said, "what's it like on Coruscant?" Jacen did his best to
describe the capital world as he remembered it. His recollections were tainted
by his recent experiences with the Yuuzhan Vong, however,  and  the  knowledge
that so much that had been beautiful was now lost or sullied in his  memories.
It made him sad to think of  the  former  Imperial  Palace  in  ruin,  or  the
Monument Plaza turned into  yorik  coral  fields,  but  they  were  very  real
possibilities. And the saddest thing of all was  that  even  if  the  Galactic
Alliance defeated the Yuuzhan Vong tomorrow, the actual damage inflicted  upon
Coruscant might never be undone. Memories could be all that remained to future
generations. Wyn listened  soberly,  only  occasionally  interrupting  with  a
question. The idea of a world devoid of natural life,  on  which  most  people
lived underground, didn't seem to surprise her as he  thought  it  might.  But
then, perhaps her world wasn't all that different. On Coruscant,  the  bedrock
was covered with city; on Csilla it was ice, but the  effect  was  essentially
the same.
     "I think I'd like to go there  someday,"  she  said  when  he'd  finished
talking. "When the war is over, of course. I'll see if I can get Father to let
me take Starflare, our family yacht. I'm licensed to  fly  her,  you  know—not
that I get much of a chance because Cem's always  taking  her  out!"  She  was
probably fishing for a personal invite from him to show her around  the  place
sometime, but he refused the bait. He smiled, saying nothing.
     "Oh well. If Saba and Danni are right then  I  guess  it  doesn't  matter
anyway." She went on when he frowned at her. "Sometimes they talk about  stuff
when they forget I'm there." She paused, looking  uncomfortable.  "You  really
think there's a chance that we won't be able to beat the Yuuzhan Vong?"  Jacen
nodded slowly. "It's a very real possibility,  Wyn,  yes."  She  nodded  also,
equally as slowly, but infinitely more sadly—as only  a  teenager  who'd  been
told she might not have long to live could. "Sometimes I think—"  She  stopped
in midsentence, dropping her gaze. The notion obviously scared her.
     "Sometimes you think what, Wyn?" "It doesn't matter," she said.  "No  one
cares what I think, anyway." "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,"  Jacen  said
soberly.
     She looked up again, flashing an appreciative smile. "Sometimes  I  think
that the sooner we can be rid of the Yuuzhan Vong, the better.  I  don't  want
what happened to Coruscant to  happen  here,  Jacen.  I  think  we  should  do
whatever we have to to make sure of that." "Even if it means joining  up  with
us?" "Yes," she said, nodding. "Unfortunately, though, Dad and I  are  in  the
minority there. Most people believe that the Yuuzhan Vong would  strike  twice
as hard if they found out we'd sided with you. Others just worry that you will
corrupt us with your ways, making it easier for the Yuuzhan Vong to  walk  all
over us when the time comes. And Jag's behavior has only helped  support  this
argument, I'm afraid." "What do you mean? What about Jag's behavior?" "Jag and
his squadron were supposed to return months ago," she explained. "To some, the
fact that he hasn't only proves that you've been a bad influence  on  him.  He
would never have gone off for so long before." "I wasn't aware that this was a
problem," Jacen said, wondering if Jaina had any idea, either. "But I can  say
that he's been a great help to us in the fight against the enemy. I hope  your
people realize that." "That's just it, though. Because he hasn't reported back
as he was supposed to, no one really knows  exactly  what  he's  been  doing."
"Maybe he's just been too busy fighting  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  to  communicate."
"Maybe," Wyn said. "Or maybe he's just been spending a little  too  much  time
with his new girlfriend." Jacen studied her curiously for a few seconds.  "How
could you possibly know about that?" "I didn't say he hadn't  reported  in  at
all, just that he hadn't reported in as  he  was  supposed  to."  She  grinned
impishly. "That's an important  difference  for  the  Chiss,  you  know."  Her
expression was one of exaggerated innocence mixed  with  mischievousness.  And
her smile left no doubt  in  Jacen's  mind  that  the  girl  knew  that  Jag's
girlfriend was in fact Jacen's own sister. "Well, perhaps he might prefer  his
private life to remain private," he returned in a tone that said  this  was  a
path he was not prepared to take.
     Her eyes twinkled; she knew how to press people's buttons. "Hey, if  he's
sweet on her, then that's just fine by me. It keeps him out of my hair  for  a
while, at least. He can be such a pain."  Despite  her  obvious  intelligence,
comments such as this only served to remind Jacen of just how young she really
was—hovering as she was on the cusp of adolescence and  adulthood.  He  didn't
doubt that she loved Jag,  but  she  was  clearly  unimpressed  by  her  older
brother's achievements at the same time.
     "What about your father?" Jacen asked, moving the  subject  along.  "What
does he think?" "Well, he's been something of a disruptive influence himself,"
she said. "The Chiss don't like to use droids in combat, arguing that  they're
too slow and vulnerable. Dad agrees mostly, but not all the time. He says, um,
that 'expendability can be a deciding factor in a  war.'  He  has  a  team  of
engineers working on a prototype  droid  fighter  that  should—"  She  stopped
abruptly when Irolia  pointedly  cleared  her  throat.  The  commander  stared
warningly at Jacen, her expression telling him quite clearly that  she  didn't
for a moment believe that he was asking such questions out of idle interest.
     "I'm sorry," he put in quickly, directing his apology to both of them. "I
shouldn't have asked. My mission here is to find Zonama Sekot, not to pry into
your affairs." Then to Wyn specifically, he added, "You've been a lot of help,
Wyn, and I'm grateful for that. I'd hate for  you  to  get  into  any  trouble
because of me." "I won't," she said, offering a fleeting,  somewhat  chastened
glance to Irolia. "Perhaps we should change the subject, though." The  two  of
them returned to the holodisplay before them.
     "How's that algorithm coming along, anyway?" Jacen asked after  a  moment
of studying the data. "You almost there?" "It's ready to roll. All you need to
do is give me the constraints." "As we discussed earlier: any system that  has
gained an extra, habitable world in the last sixty years should be flagged for
our attention. If Danni's right, that should narrow our  search  dramatically.
Can you do that? " "Of course." The girl  bent  her  head  to  the  task,  not
looking up as footsteps approached across the library floor.
     Jacen didn't need to turn, either, to know who it was; he could tell both
from the way that Commander Irolia instantly snapped to  attention,  and  from
the hostility the man radiated as he entered the room.
     "At ease, Commander," Chief Navigator Aabe said.
     Jacen and Wyn swiveled around to face him.
     The bald man glided smoothly to the table, flanked by two  Chiss  guards.
He walked to where Wyn was sitting and placed a hand on  her  shoulder.  "Your
father has asked me to fetch you." The girl looked worried. "It was an  honest
mistake, mentioning the droids," she said. "I swear. If  you'll  just  let  me
stay to—" "This has nothing to do with that, child." Aabe's  voice  was  firm.
"But disobeying his instructions won't make him any  more  pleased  with  you,
will it?" She sagged into herself, and then stood. "Sorry, Jacen,"  she  said,
nervously glancing down to him. "Good luck witi the search, though." "Thanks."
He watched, unable to protest, as Aabe  led  her  from  the  room.  "Hopefully
you'll get the chance to come visit me at my home someday." She briefly smiled
back at him as the door closed between them. Then she was  gone,  leaving  him
alone with Commander Irolia. The commander sat  down  wearily,  her  red  eyes
avoiding his. He sensed that she, too, didn't like the way in  which  Wyn  had
been whisked out of the room.
     Nothing was said, but he couldn't help feeling  a  twinge  of  misgivings
about what had just taken place. Something didn't feel right, somehow.
     Wyn's search was indeed ready to roll, as promised. He called up  a  list
of references on his datapad and considered where to start. He sat  as  though
he was deep in thought for several minutes, but for once  he  wasn't  thinking
about Zonama Sekot.
     He undipped his comlink from his belt and turned away from Irolia.
     "Uncle Luke? Can you hear me?" He kept his voice and the  volume  of  the
comlink down to a minimum.
     "I hear you, Jacen. Have you found something?" "Not yet. I just wanted to
make sure you're okay." "Everything's fine. We're still on the ice barge,  not
far from the spaceport. We should be back  within  two  hours."  There  was  a
slight pause. "Is everything all right at your end?" "Well, something odd just
happened. Do you know if Soontir Fel has been in touch  with  Chief  Navigator
Aabe in the last half hour or so?" "Not that I'm aware of. He's been  with  us
the whole time." Aabe had lied about being sent by Fel  to  collect  Wyn.  But
why? Jacen thought hard. What was Aabe up to? he wondered. To  isolate  Jacen,
perhaps? He looked over to Commander Irolia.  She  was  sat  perfectly  still,
silently watching him. He sensed nothing untoward in the tone of her thoughts—
no anticipation, no nervousness—and there was nothing in the Force to  suggest
she was about to attack him. The threat had  to  be  directed  elsewhere.  But
where?
     "Jacen?" His uncle sounded  concerned.  "What's  wrong?"  "It's  probably
nothing," he answered. "It's just that—" Before he could finish the  sentence,
however, a sense of extreme alarm surged through the  Force.  It  hadn't  come
from Luke, either, but rather from someone close to his uncle. And tangled  up
in the thought was an impression of a cold, white wasteland and howling winds.
     "We're under attack!" came the urgent cry over the comlink.
     "Aunt Mara!" Although she was thousands  of  kilometers  away,  he  found
himself instinctively jumping to his feet and going for his lightsaber.
     Irolia  stood  also,   startled   by   Jacen's   inexplicable   outburst,
automatically reaching for her own weapon.
     "What's going on?" she asked anxiously, clearly confused.
     Jacen ignored her.
     "Uncle Luke! Aunt Mara!" he called into  the  comlink.  "Answer  me!"  It
could have only been a few seconds before his uncle replied, but it felt  like
eons of tortured silence to Jacen.
     "Jacen, I can't talk now," Luke said, voice crackling.
     Then he was alone, desperately wanting to know exactly what had happened,
but understanding that it could be a while before  he  found  out.  There  was
betrayal in the air, so thick and cloying that he felt for a moment as  though
he couldn't breathe.
     "May  the  Force  be  with  you,"  he  muttered  quietly  to  his  uncle,
reluctantly releasing the handgrip of his lightsaber. His thoughts  turned  to
Wyn, wherever she was. "And you." Jaina's eyes opened  to  bright  light.  She
winced and recoiled from the sudden rush of information.
     "Where am I?" she croaked, squinting around as she tried to sit up.  Just
these simple tasks caused every muscle in her body to cry out in pain, and she
fleetingly wished she'd remained unconscious.
     She appeared to be in a study of some kind,  although  the  details  were
still hazy. The smell of leather was strong in her nostrils, and her  questing
fingers quickly discovered the plush couch beneath her.
     "Welcome back, Jaina." She turned slightly in the direction of the  voice
and made out a vague, green-faced blur standing by what appeared to be a door.
She hadn't really needed to look, though; she knew who the voice belonged to.
     "Salkeli, you treacherous little—" "It's not there,"  someone  else  said
when her hand crept down to her side in search of her  lightsaber.  The  voice
was familiar, but a name didn't immediately spring to mind. "It's  all  right.
No harm will come to you—if you behave yourself,  that  is."  She  felt  naked
without her lightsaber, especially in such a weakened state. Two stun bolts so
close together had left her nervous system profoundly scrambled. Her eyes were
only slowly remembering how to focus.  Her  lightsaber  wasn't  all  that  was
missing, either; her comlink was gone, along with everything else  that  might
have enabled her to call for help.
     She forced herself to sit up  straighter,  turning  to  face  the  second
person. He, too, was just a blur, but he wasn't to know that.
     "Salkeli said someone wanted to talk to me," she said.  "I  presume  that
someone is you." Whoever he was, he was seated behind a wide desk and  dressed
in richly red garments. "You presume correctly." "So where exactly am I?"  she
asked again, glancing around the confines of the room,  hoping  for  something
familiar to fall into place.
     "You are in my private chambers," the  man  answered.  'These  rooms  are
soundproofed and protected against all forms of electronic  infiltration.  The
door is blast-proof, and its lock can only be opened by my  thumb-print."  The
leather of his chair squeaked beneath him as he leaned back into it, obviously
trying to exude a calm and confident air. "Trust me when I say that  you  will
not be leaving here without my consent." "Yeah, I'm getting that  impression,"
she said, looking around again. Her depth of field  was  gradually  returning,
allowing her  to  make  things  out  more  clearly.  The  study  was  lavishly
appointed; polished wood cupboards containing delicate crystal ornaments—small
glasses and bowls, mostly, some of them veined with bright colors — lined  the
walls. The beauty of the objects, however, was somewhat diminished by  Salkeli
standing in front of them,  his  green  face  staring  back  at  her  with  an
expression of extreme smugness.
     When she returned her gaze to the person sitting  behind  the  desk,  her
vision had snapped back into focus. Long-boned and  sharp-eyed,  Deputy  Prime
Minister Blaine Harris looked at her with a questioning look on his face.
     "Well?" he asked, arms outstretched imploringly.  "Will  you  cooperate?"
She kept her surprise carefully in check. "That all depends." "On?"  "On  what
you plan to do with me, of course," she answered. "And also what you did  with
the credits." He frowned deeply. "Credits? What credits?" "The credits  you've
been siphoning from the Bakura treasury, of course," she said, taking a gamble
on a plausible theory. "Freedom discovered  the  leaks;  that's  why  you  had
Malinza put away. What I don't get, though, is what you wanted that  much  for
in the first place. I mean, what could you buy  with  all  those  millions  of
credits?" "Ah,  yes."  Harris  nodded  his  understanding.  "Salkeli  told  me
something about your little theory.  Correct  me  if  I'm  wrong,  but  didn't
Freedom fail to pin anything on me?" "Yes, but I'm sure Vyram would  have,  if
he'd been given the chance." "I very much doubt  that."  Harris  steepled  his
fingers in front of him, smiling thinly  behind  them.  "You  see,  it  really
wasn't me who stole those credits." Jaina forced a  disbelieving  laugh.  "You
expect me to—" "Quite honestly," he interjected, "I don't care if you  believe
me or not. Because the truth is, it wasn't me. If I had access  to  that  many
credits, do you really think I'd be employing spies like this? "  He  gestured
at Salkeli. The Rodian seemed completely unfazed by the obvious insult.
     "Sorry to disappoint you, Jaina," Harris  went  on,  "but  I'm  not  your
thief. I was interested to learn about it, though, and I'm as curious  as  you
are to find out who is responsible. When this ridiculous farce is  over,  I'll
certainly make a point of looking into it more closely.  I'll  not  allow  the
Bakuran public to be bled dry." Jaina's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the Deputy
Prime Minister for any hint of duplicity. No matter how hard she  looked,  she
couldn't find anything. Nevertheless, she didn't believe him.  "You're  up  to
something," she said finally. "I know it." "Oh, I'm not  denying  that  for  a
second," he said with a laugh. "It's just not what you think." Harris  pressed
a control on his desk, and a section of the office wall slid to one side.  The
space behind it contained a holoprojector  three  meters  across.  The  Deputy
Prime Minister stood up to gain a better vantage point as  an  image  came  to
life within it.
     Jaina recognized it from her approach path  to  Salis  D'aar:  a  massive
amphitheater  whose  walls  were  bedecked  with  multicolored  streamers  and
pennants bearing the  P'w'eck  and  Bakuran  emblems.  Banners  scrawled  with
greetings for the visiting aliens stretched between huge stone pillars  around
the outside, while overhead floated an enormous canopy that offered cover  for
the central arena, its underside painted  with  Bakura's  flag.  The  sun  was
rising into the sky behind the point of view of the holocam, casting a  golden
glow across the stone steps and pillars. People were already filing  into  the
seats, with guards in dark green uniforms making sure nobody  strayed  into  a
circular area in the center of the stadium — easily the most decorated section
in view.
     "The ceremony," Jaina said.
     Blaine Harris nodded. "It'll be under way within the hour.  From  what  I
understand, it's supposed to be quite impressive, too." "You're going  to  try
to stop it?" Harris glanced momentarily away from  the  holo  to  cast  her  a
scornful look. "Don't be a fool, girl," he said  with  obvious  contempt,  and
then turned back to the image. "My intentions are far more complex than that."
Jaina tried to force herself to think. Something was going on, but what?  "You
said 'farce,' " she prompted.
     "I wasn't referring to the ceremony, if that's what you're thinking."  In
the holo, a squad of P'w'eck guards appeared. With  powerful  muscles  gliding
smoothly beneath dull scales, they spread out to inspect  the  circle  at  the
center of the stadium where, Jaina presumed, the ceremony  itself  would  take
place.
     "They're  keeping  tight-lipped  about  the  ceremony,"  Harris  went  on
thoughtfully, still staring at the events unfolding.  "I  guess  that's  their
prerogative. It's a privilege for us to be part of it." "I thought the  people
on Bakura were only meant to be spectators." "Oh, we are. But  our  planet  is
becoming sacred, and that's not something that happens every day." "You really
believe in this stuff?" Jaina asked.
     He found this amusing. "Of course I don't believe in it. But the  P'w'eck
do, and that's enough for me." He turned back to Jaina. "Have you ever noticed
the similarities between the Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong? Both cultures  are
xenophobic,  stratified,  religious,  and  expansionist.  Both  express  these
tendencies in violent methodologies. Both are, or have been, potent enemies of
the New Republic." "Just like the Yevetha," Jaina said.
     Harris frowned. "What do they have to do with this?" She shook her  head.
"Perhaps nothing." Or everything, she added to herself.  "Go  on."  "Both  the
Ssi-ruuk and the Yuuzhan Vong use defeated foes  as  slaves—an  ugly  practice
that I'm pleased to see the P'w'eck abandon. That's one of  two  ways  they've
learned from their old masters." "The second being?..." "No  more  xenophobia,
of course," he said, as though stating the obvious. "I'm hoping we can make it
three ways. By allowing them their ritual, they might also learn to turn their
religion into a nonviolent activity. Then we'll work on their caste system and
see if we can't make the slave mentality a little more  flexible.  Acceptance,
you see, can be as effective a tool for change as domination and  force."  She
frowned, understanding what he was saying but not getting  the  context.  "I'm
sorry but I think I'm missing the point you're trying to make." He moved  away
from the holo with a sigh and began to pace. "My  point,  Jaina,  is  that  we
don't need the New Republic telling us what to do here on Bakura. We can  make
our own decisions, and you breathing down our  neck  only  makes  things  more
complicated." "But we're not here to do  that,"  she  protested.  "We're  just
trying to make sure that everything is okay with—" "Really?"  he  cut  in.  "I
find that very hard to believe." He stopped a few steps away from her, staring
fiercely down into her eyes. "On the eve of our  greatest  moment  —  alliance
with the heirs of our old enemy—you turn up  to  sow  the  seeds  of  dissent.
Coincidence? I don't think so." "Wait a minute. We were called  to  Bakura  by
someone who was concerned that something bad was going on." "And who was  that
exactly?" She glanced away. "An  informant,"  she  said,  unable  to  be  more
precise.
     He snorted. "If there's one thing I learned in the military, it's that an
ill-informed informant can do more damage than a convincing double agent.  The
only way to be certain of anything, my dear girl, is to see it with  your  own
eyes. And even then..." He turned back to the projection, sentence unfinished.
When he spoke again, his tone  was  softer,  the  subject  changed.  "I  never
thought I'd see this day. After all the years of fear and  doubt,  Bakura  has
finally found a means  to  become  what  we  have  always  wanted  it  to  be:
independent and safe. From this day forward, Bakura will be a world in its own
right—not one shackled to the Empire or the Republic or the Ssi-ruuk. With the
P'w'eck, we can forge a new alliance—an alliance of our own choosing, not  one
forced upon us by circumstance. Peace will never  again  be  ripped  out  from
under us by powers from afar. It is time  for  us  to  be  strong,  at  last."
Remembering the stories she'd been told of riots and disturbances, Jaina said,
"I take it not everyone feels the same way about this as  you  do."  "That  is
only to be expected. It can take people time to realize what is good for them.
" An apologetic smile flickered across his angular features. "I am  self-aware
enough to understand that I am betraying some of my own principles  here.  But
as those who believe in the Cosmic Balance might say,  sometimes  it  takes  a
great evil to bring about the greatest good." "Exactly what sort of  evil  are
we talking about?" He ignored her question. "It's odd, you know, that we  here
on Bakura should defy the will of the Jedi so blatantly. I mean, not just that
it was your uncle, Luke Sky-walker, who  played  such  an  important  part  in
saving us from the Ssi-ruuk so long ago,  but  that  our  beliefs  so  closely
mirror yours. You, too, believe in a cosmic  system  of  checks  and  balances
that, ultimately, ensures life will thrive. I don't know  if  you're  familiar
with the beliefs of the native population of the planet, the Kurtzen, but they
cling to a faith in a  universal  life  force  not  dissimilar  to  your  all-
pervasive Force. Combine the two, and we might have become you—but  there  has
never been a Jedi from Bakura that I am aware of. I find that  strange."  "You
think we're neglecting you, Deputy Prime  Minister?  Is  that  it?  There  are
thousands of worlds out there. It takes time to search them all—time we  don't
have at the moment with the Yuuzhan Vong—"  His  laughter  cut  her  off.  "My
motive is not one of jealousy! You see—" A buzzing sound came from the door.
     Harris glanced at Salkeli, who straightened and raised his blaster. "This
could be it." The Deputy Prime Minister came back around  the  desk  to  check
something, and nodded. "And not a second too soon." He looked up at Jaina with
a  smile.  "It  would  seem  that  the  reinforcements  have  arrived.   Quite
unintentionally, I might add, but still..." He gestured to  Salkeli,  and  the
Rodian crossed the room to take Jaina by the arm, pressing  the  blaster  into
her side. She decided to play along for the  moment.  The  Rodian's  will  was
weak, and it probably wouldn't take much to  make  him  turn  the  blaster  on
Harris. However, she thought it would be more prudent to wait for a  while  to
see if she could find out just what Harris's plan was—and whether there was  a
way to stop it.
     Salkeli walked her to a position in the corner of the room, out of  sight
of the door. He raised the blaster to her neck, pushing it  firmly  under  her
chin as he clamped one leathery hand over  her  mouth.  Then  he  signaled  to
Harris, and the Deputy Prime Minister crossed the room and pressed  his  thumb
against the lock.
     The double door slid open with a hiss and three people entered in a rush.
Jaina didn't recognize them at first — they were hooded  and  cloaked—but  she
could tell that it wasn't her parents and Tahiri. Clearly,  they  weren't  who
Harris had meant by the "reinforcements" arriving. It wasn't  until  the  door
shut behind them and the one in front turned to face Harris that Jaina saw who
it was.
     "We're in trouble," Malinza Thanas said. The  others  pulled  back  their
hoods, revealing Jjorg and Vyram.
     Harris looked concerned. "What happened to Zel?" "He  was  shot  when  we
fled the Stack," Malinza said, her voice caught somewhere  between  anger  and
tears. " They shot him, Blaine!" "The main thing  is  that  you're  safe,"  he
returned coolly. "Everything will be all right now." "How can you say that? It
was all we could do just to get here  without  being  seen!  And  that's  only
because security is distracted by the ceremony. We're never going to  be  able
to show our faces again unless you find out who's behind this!" "Behind  what,
my dear?" "Framing me for kidnapping, for one—then letting me escape  to  make
it look like I'm guilty. I'll probably get blamed for Zel's death,  as  well!"
Malinza sounded like she was on the edge of breaking down,  but  with  obvious
effort she brought her emotions under control. "We've lost  Salkeli,  too.  He
created a diversion  while  we  got  away,  but  he  didn't  meet  us  at  the
rendezvous. I'm worried that—" "You should know I'd never let myself be caught
or killed, Malinza," the Rodian  said,  stepping  out  from  where  he'd  kept
himself hidden and dragging Jaina with him. "But I guess you  didn't  know  me
that well, did you?" Malinza turned, her look of surprise deepening  when  she
saw Jaina. "I-I don't understand." "That is  becoming  increasingly  obvious,"
Harris said, producing a blaster of his own from  beneath  his  scarlet  robe.
"Your weapons on the floor, if you would be so kind." Malinza's face was  pale
as she dropped her small blaster onto the rug in front of  her.  Jjorg  obeyed
with a snarl, while Vyram calmly complied, keeping his thoughts to himself.
     "What do you intend to do?" Malinza asked, fighting even  harder  now  to
keep her emotions in check.
     "Do?" Harris waved Salkeli forward, and the Rodian pushed Jaina  over  to
the others. "The job you set out to do, of  course.  Why  else  would  I  have
funded you, Malinza, if our goals weren't the same in  the  first  place?  I'm
going to unite the people against the Galactic Alliance.  With  the  P'w'eck's
help, I will make Bakura as safe as it can possibly be from outside  invasion.
We will govern our own destiny, forever." He smiled  coldly.  "The  only  real
difference between your plans and my own is that, when mine come to  fruition,
the people of Bakura will be united behind me, not  you.  Which  is  a  shame,
really, because it will be your tragic death that finally mobilizes them. That
and the terrible betrayal of the Jedi who came to enslave us  once  again."  "
What? " asked Malinza and Jaina at the same time.
     "All will be made clear in due course, I assure you. Now, Salkeli, if you
could bind their hands, please." The Rodian dragged Jaina to join the  others,
bolstered his blaster, and produced electronic binders for the  four  of  them
from a drawer in Harris's desk. With only the one blaster on them  now,  Jaina
felt a heightened  edginess  in  the  Freedom  members.  She  tried  to  catch
Malinza's eye, but the girl was steadfastly ignoring her—although whether from
embarrassment or anger, she couldn't tell.
     "You're crazy if you think you're going to get  away  with  this,"  Jaina
said, trying to divert the burden of rebellion onto her shoulders.
     "Get away with what, exactly?" Harris laughed. "You don't even know  what
it is I intend to do!" The Deputy Prime Minister was finding the  whole  thing
entirely too amusing for Jaina's liking. That troubled Jaina deeply. That  and
the cool readiness with which he held the blaster trained on his captives.
     Malinza glared at Salkeli as he started to put  the  binders  around  her
wrists.
     "We trusted you," she hissed.
     "If it makes you feel any better, Malinza, it'll  probably  be  the  last
mistake you're ever going to make." "Malinza, no!" Jaina called out  when  she
saw the girl noticeably stiffen.
     But it was too late. Not waiting for the binders to snap shut and tighten
about her wrists, Malinza pushed Salkeli's hands aside and brought her knee up
into his groin. As he jackknifed forward,  she  clubbed  him  to  the  ground.
Barely had the look of surprise begun to form  on  his  face  when  Jjorg  was
moving forward also. The long-limbed blond lunged across the room, her  strong
thighs propelling her forward, reaching for Harris's gun.
     He didn't even move, except to pull the trigger. A single shot  rang  out
and Jjorg hit the floor with a sickening thud.
     Then the blaster was on Jaina.
     "Whatever you're thinking,"  he  said  softly,  "I  advise  against  it."
Malinza backed away, mouth open in horror as she stared at Jjorg's limp  body.
Vyram made a move as though to help his  fallen  comrade,  but  Jaina  quickly
pulled him back.
     "He means it," she said. "That blaster's not set to  stun."  "Why  didn't
you do something?" Malinza asked, her words  steeped  in  accusation  and  her
cheeks soaked with tears.
     Jaina shook her head. There was no way to say it nicely.
     Harris saved her the trouble. "If Jjorg hadn't resisted, she'd  still  be
alive." Jaina would have perhaps phrased it less bluntly—and  added  something
to the effect that there would come an opportunity to escape later, when  they
found out what exactly Harris was up to—but that was the essence of it.
     Salkeli had climbed back to his feet, looking a little gray. Stepping  up
close to Malinza, he snarled, "Don't ever try that  again."  He  fastened  the
binders then, and Jaina saw Malinza wince as he set them to tighten around the
girl's wrists — obviously tighter than  they  needed  to  be.  Malinza  didn't
complain; she just let him do it with her jaw firmly clenched, her eyes unable
to hide the anger and betrayal she was feeling.
     "This actually works out well for me," Harris said as Salkeli bound Vyram
next. "You saved me the trouble of trying to decide which one of you to shoot.
There's nothing quite like a body to prove that there was a  strug-gle,  don't
you think? Unfortunately, security was so distracted by the Keeramak  and  the
ceremony that they didn't notice a slight glitch in  the  cams  monitoring  my
office antechamber and the corridors outside. When they do, I'll  be  sure  to
point out your prowess, Vyram,  at  slicing  into  official  systems.  Such  a
disruption would be well within your capabilities, wouldn't  you  say?"  Jaina
held out her hands when it was her turn for the binders.  As  Salkeli  reached
around her wrists to seal the durasteel binders she slid a simple thought into
his mind: the click of the binders locking. She reinforced  it  with  a  wince
similar to Malinza's, as though they were pinching her skin.
     He leered at her as he stepped back, confident that all of  the  captives
were now effectively bound. Jaina smiled back at him  defiantly.  The  binders
were tight around her wrists but not locked. A good tug would have them  open,
when the time was right. Then she would help Malinza and her friends escape.
     Salkeli produced his blaster and took his place  beside  Harris.  Malinza
glowered at him, eyes filled with hate, while  Harris  stopped  to  check  the
growing crowd in the holoprojector before switching it  off  and  closing  the
panel.
     "Within the hour, this planet will be a consecrated part of  the  P'w'eck
Emancipation Movement. And you, my dear Malinza, will  be  a  martyr  to  your
cause. Doesn't that fill you with pride?" Malinza spat on the  carpet  at  his
feet.
     Harris simply smiled back at  her,  his  eyes  triumphant  and  gloating.
"Spoken like a true rebel."  He  faced  his  accomplice,  then.  "Salkeli,  in
position, please." The Rodian ushered his three prisoners closer to the  door,
and Harris opened it with his thumbprint.  Jaina,  Malinza,  and  Vyram  filed
outside with the blaster pointed at their backs.
     "Where are you taking us?" Malinza asked. "Wait and see," Harris said. "I
guarantee you won't be disappointed."

     	PART FOUR 	CONSECRATION

     "Disappointed?" The note of incredulity in Jag's voice could barely  hide
his irritation. "Jaina is still missing and you think I might be  disappointed
that I'm not going to see the ceremony?" The voice  of  Twin  Sun  Three  fell
silent, her attempt at lightening the mood having fallen painfully flat.
     Jag clicked twice to remind his pilots not to clutter the airwaves,  even
as he chided himself for being snappy. He was concerned by  Jaina's  continued
absence, but at the same time he had to trust in Jaina's ability to look after
herself. Besides which, if anything terrible had happened to her, he was  sure
Leia would sense it. That Jaina hadn't called for help yet through  the  Force
suggested that she was at least still in  control  of  her  situation—whatever
that might be. And until such a time as she did get in touch with  anyone,  he
would just have to continue on as though everything were normal—and that meant
concentrating on flying.
     He had taken a mixed flight out to patrol the edges of  Selonia's  orbit,
wary of any "unauthorized" activity while attention was  focused  below.  Both
P'w'eck and  Bakuran  contingents  were  quiet,  the  two  big  alien  assault
carriers, Errinung'ka  and  Firrinree,  orbiting  in  quadrants  diametrically
opposed to the two local defenders, Defender and Sentinel. The latter had  two
full squadrons of P'w'eck fighter craft stationed at close quarters, plus  two
squat picket ships. If things were to turn nasty, for  whatever  reason,  they
could do a lot of damage while the Bakurans tried to get their balance.  While
Jag obviously hoped nothing untoward would happen, he had to think tactically.
     "Don't just outguess your enemy," his father had once said,  "but  outsee
him, too. Always assume that he's two steps ahead of the current play, and  be
three steps ahead yourself." Jag took his clawcraft and his two wingmates in a
wide arc around Selonia. The frigate basked in  the  light  of  Bakura's  sun,
unmolested and apparently completely ignored by the forces surrounding it.
     He could sense games all around him, moving slowly toward their endplays.
It irked him once again to be so far away from the action taking  place  below
on Bakura's surface. But if nothing came of it, and  all  his  second-guessing
proved unfounded, he wouldn't be disappointed. A large part of him agreed with
Leia that maybe, just maybe, this deal with the P'w'eck would turn out  to  be
the best thing that had ever happened to Bakura...
     The voice of the  comm  operator  on  Selonia  suddenly  cut  across  his
thoughts.
     "Launches detected!" "I'm on it," he said, quickly swinging his clawcraft
in the direction of the numerous vessels his sensors  detected  emerging  from
Sentinel's launching bays. His wingmates were close behind him, following  him
in for a closer look.
     "Has Bakuran Defense Fleet advised us of the  launches?"  he  asked.  The
number of ships leaving the cruiser was already up to twenty and still rising.
     "As far as they're concerned, I don't think they feel they have to," came
the reply. "But I'll check with them anyway." Jag was already close enough  to
pick out the types of craft emerging from the launching bays,  but  this  only
confused him. It was a mixed bag, consisting of  Y  -  and  X-wings  from  the
Bakuran Defense Forces, along with an equal number  of  Ssi-ruuvi—P'w'eck,  he
reminded himself—Swarm-class droid fighters. They flew  in  elegant  formation
out of the bays and into orbit, peeling off in threes and fives, still divided
more or less equally between both forces.
     "Apparently it's an honor guard," came  back  Selonia's  operator.  "I've
notified Captain Mayn." Honor guard? It was plausible enough, he supposed. The
ships  were  flying  tightly  together,  and  had  obviously  rehearsed  their
maneuvers well beforehand. That showed a degree of cooperation between the two
forces—as well as trust.
     But it still troubled him. The number of ships was approaching fifty, far
too many for the depleted Twin Suns to tackle on its own—especially if it  was
caught off guard.
     Be three steps ahead...
     "Do you think they'd mind if the Galactic Alliance joined  them  to  show
our respects, too?" he asked Selonia.
     "I'll ask." While he waited on a reply, on another channel he alerted the
Twin Suns pilots on standby, telling them to kit up  and  launch  as  soon  as
possible.
     "We're on our way," Jocell said, adding dryly: "I don't think any  of  us
really expected this to be a slow day, did we?" Jag picked a flight  of  three
ships, two of them droid fighters, and tailed them around the planet. The trio
didn't react to his presence, but a transmission from Selonia not  long  after
confirmed that they'd been noticed.
     "They're requesting we stay well clear," came Captain Mayn over the  open
channel. "I informed them that we would happily comply, but that we would have
to take the necessary steps to ensure our security."  Jag  smiled  tightly  to
himself. What Mayn was saying was that, short of Jag provoking an altercation,
he had a free hand to do whatever he felt necessary.
     With this in mind, he continued to shadow the trio of fighters. The total
number of ships in the "honor guard" had just reached an even  hundred—and  it
was still climbing.
     We're under attack!
     In an instant, Saba was awake and clambering to her  feet.  Disconcerted,
she tried to get her bearings. Then she remembered: she'd been  resting  in  a
large chair on the ice barge's opulent observation deck. She'd nodded off  and
fallen into a peaceful dream of being up on the slopes of the  Listian  Hills.
The sky had been red and cloudy, the scent on the breeze relaxing,  and  she'd
lain there among the warm rocks, listening to the  restive  growlings  of  her
hatchmates nearby...
     Then Mara's cry through the Force had snapped her back  to  reality,  and
she realized with some disappointment that the growling  she'd  heard  in  the
dream was in fact the rasping of the barge's many repulsors over  the  surface
of the ice beneath them. With a grunt, she shook herself free of the dream and
made her way over to where the others were standing.
     The barge was a shallow,  oval-shaped  vessel  that  skidded  across  the
surface of glaciers and ice fields with  more  speed  than  grace.  The  three
passenger decks bulged out of the top like  an  afterthought,  ringed  by  the
powerful generators and repulsors that kept it in the air. It possessed  heavy
shields that kept the icy wind at bay, but the howling was still audible as  a
thin, far-off Ixll-like wail. There were four weapons emplacements around  the
curved edge of the barge, and they currently pointed at  something  flickering
in and out of sight through dense snow spray off to the starboard side.
     "There are two more behind  us,"  Soontir  Fel  said.  One  thick  finger
stabbed at a  display.  Ten  swift  targets  surrounded  the  barge.  Software
identified the objects as smaller than a  snowspeeder,  but  just  as  heavily
armed and shielded. They looked like fat coins tipped on their sides,  ripping
edge-first through the air. "Single-person fliers, I imagine, given the  speed
they're moving." A warning shot on the  port  side  bounced  off  the  barge's
shields and into a snowbank. Steam exploded from the point of impact,  sending
a white cloud high into the air.
     "Pirates?" Master Skywalker asked.
     "Possibly." Fel rocked the barge in  the  direction  of  the  snow-flier,
forcing it to swerve away.
     "Shouldn't we try to contact  the  spaceport  to  let  them  know  what's
happening?" Mara asked.
     "Already tried," Fel said, shifting the barge suddenly  to  starboard.  A
loud thump sounded as the barge's shields connected with one  of  the  fliers.
"But we're being jammed." "If they're not pirates, could they  be  enemies  of
yours?" Stalgis asked.
     "Sure, but which ones?" Fel grunted. "Whoever they are, we  can't  outrun
or outshoot them. Our one advantage is the shield, which  I'm  fairly  certain
they can't take out. Unless they bring in something bigger, we should be  safe
in here." Syal Antilles put a  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "When  we  reach  the
spaceport, security will drive them away." A nearby explosion rocked  the  ice
barge from nose to stern. Fragments of ice ricocheted off the  barge's  shield
and swept into its wake. Another explosion cracked  the  ice  ahead  of  them,
sending spreading fingers across the endless white plain. Fel banked to  avoid
the instability.
     When he tried to return to his original course, more fire from the  snow-
fliers forced him back.
     "That's if we can make  it  there,"  he  belatedly  responded  to  Syal's
comment.
     "They're trying to force us off course," Mara said.
     "I think you're right," Fel growled. "If it was  just  me,  I'd  take  my
chances over those crevasses. But—" He glanced at Syal,  standing  behind  him
with her hand still on his shoulder. He shook his head. "I'm not  prepared  to
take that risk right now." "I'm sorry," Luke said. "It's us they want." "Don't
be too sure. I'm not popular with some of the syndics because I want to change
their ways. All it would take is for one of them to  decide  to  make  a  move
while I'm distracted—" Another explosion rocked the barge, forcing it to  turn
farther starboard.
     "Either way," Mara said, "we're all in this together right  now."  "Maybe
if I give myself up to them, they'll leave the rest of you alone," Fel said.
     "No!" Syal responded instantly. "I won't let you do that!"  Luke  agreed.
"It would be a pointless sacrifice. They won't leave any witnesses.  You  know
that. In fact, if anything they'll use us as scapegoats. What  could  be  more
believable than a spat between  old  enemies—especially  if  the  accused  are
killed resisting capture?" Fel acquiesced with a nod. "So what do you suggest?
" "There's clearly no point running, and we can't beat them with brute force."
Luke's gaze wandered around him as he thought for a moment. "I suggest we stop
trying altogether." "I thought you just said we shouldn't give them what  they
want," Syal said.
     "I did." "So what are you saying?" pressed the  woman.  Master  Skywalker
smiled. "I'm saying we should maybe give  them  a  little  more  than  they're
expecting." Leia followed an usher to their seats, accompanied by Han,  C-3PO,
and her two Noghri bodyguards. The stadium was enormous, practically  a  giant
crater lined  with  stalls,  with  the  more  comfortable  booths  higher  up,
affording the more privileged guests a better view  of  the  proceedings  that
would soon be taking place in the stadium's center. The  delegation  from  the
Galactic Alliance was, of course, among  those  privileged  guests.  They  had
reserved seating to the right of Prime Minister Cunder-tol's stand,  where  he
would be surrounded by senior Senators atop a large  podium  that  jutted  out
from the ring of seats. The day was warm; floating sunshades circulated lazily
above the crowd, propelled by the ever-present re-pulsors.  Among  the  crowd,
she made out signs and banners, although she couldn't quite make  out  exactly
what they were saying. She guessed that they'd belong to both  protestors  and
supporters of the Keeramak and its P'w'eck revolutionaries. This was a big day
for Bakura, and a lot hung in the balance.
     Nothing much was happening just yet, though. The Prime Minister had still
to appear and, after the early-morning meeting, he would no doubt be  avoiding
the Galactic Alliance when he did. Fifty P'w'eck soldiers maintained a perfect
ring around the area on which the ceremony was to take place, well  away  from
the nearest seats in the center of the stadium.
     Han's hand found hers and gave it a tight squeeze. Warmth flooded through
her, reminding her of why she loved him. Even in difficult times, when  events
threatened to overtake everything, he was always there  for  her.  Flashes  of
irritation hid a depth of emotion that surprised even him, sometimes,  and  of
which she was always grateful to be the recipient.
     "Do you think the rain's going to hold off?" he asked.
     She followed his gaze. Dense clouds were building on the western horizon,
promising a tropical storm.
     "If it doesn't," she said, "then I guess we're going to get wet." "Great.
That's really going to add insult to injury." A fanfare sounded as  they  took
their seats, announcing the formal arrival of the Bakuran and P'w'eck leaders.
Prime Minister Cundertol, dressed  in  a  magnificent  purple  robe,  and  the
Keeramak led a large group of human,  Kurtzen,  and  P'w'eck  officials  in  a
cleared path from the base of the stadium to the central ring. There,  to  the
stirring sound of the Bakuran anthem, they turned to address  the  crowd  and,
symbolically, Bakura itself.
     "My people," Cundertol began,  his  voice  magnified  a  thousandfold  by
speakers floating high  above  the  stadium,  "welcome  to  you  all  on  this
magnificent occasion. With our new allies, the P'w'eck, we  join  together  to
usher in a new era of prosperity and peace. As neighbors and friends, we  will
embrace the universal truths that bind together all  cultures.  Today,  Bakura
achieves its destiny, free from fear of  old  enemies  and  working  with  new
allies to build a common future." The crowd responded with equal parts  cheers
and boos as he stepped back to allow the Keeramak to speak. The mutant Ssi-ruu
looked radiant in a shining silver harness trailing multicolored  ribbons  and
tiny bells that jangled delicately with each movement. Its scales  glinted  in
the weakened morning light, making it hard to tell where  its  outfit  stopped
and its skin began. Not even the growing cloud  cover  could  dim  its  unique
beauty.
     The powerful tones that issued from its throat boomed deafeningly  across
the stadium.
     "People of Bakura,"  came  the  translation  when  it  had  finished  its
address, "I am proud to be here as the  leader  of  a  liberated  people.  The
P'w'eck species, no longer bound to an oppressive regime rooted in cruelty and
bloodshed, joins with you in spiritual communion  as  our  two  great  nations
create a bond that will run much deeper than mere friendship. With the signing
of the treaty, we will be one, our fates forever linked!"  The  response  from
the crowd was as mixed as it had been for Cundertol, but  it  didn't  seem  to
faze either leader. They bowed to one another, then the Prime Minister and his
contingent made their way back through the crowd to their seats. As  Leia  had
guessed, he acknowledged her and Han with only a formal nod.
     Han muttered something to the effect that he wouldn't trade a bootful  of
mynock droppings for Cundertol on a good day. Leia shushed him. There  was  no
sign of the Deputy Prime Minister—an absence no one had mentioned,  but  which
she found interesting.
     There was no time to ponder it, however, as the ceremony was  immediately
under way.  P'w'eck  priests  bedecked  with  streamers  began  warbling  some
monotonous chant as the Keeramak prowled  the  edges  of  the  cleared  space,
scattering glinting shards in a perfect circle around  the  alien  contingent.
Every few seconds, in counterpoint to the chanting, the Keeramak  would  raise
its head and intone a phrase in its own tongue. This time there was no  public
interpreter to explain what was being said.
     "Can you translate this?" Leia whispered to C-3PO.
     "Only in part, Mistress. The dialect is not the same in which the P'w'eck
converse. It appears to be an ancient, ritual tongue, perhaps preserved  for—"
"Spare us the details, Goldenrod," Han said in an  irritable  undertone,  "and
just get to the  point,  will  you?"  "As  you  wish,  sir.  The  Keeramak  is
addressing the life spirit of the galaxy, beseeching it to hear him and  grant
his wishes. The golden light of this morning is yours,'  it  is  saying.  'The
blue-tinted skies and white clouds are  yours.  Where  leaves  are  green  and
flowers bloom in many colors, you are there. Where  children  grow  strong  in
limb and heart, you are there.' " "Very poetic," Han muttered. "How much  more
of this is there?" "The ceremony is scheduled to last one hour, sir."  "That's
just great." Han stretched his legs in front  of  him  and  locked  his  hands
behind his head. "Wake me when it's over, will you, Leia?"  The  floating  van
pulled up outside an unguarded entrance to the stadium. Goure, at the controls
of the aircar following the van, drove past, rounded a corner, and came  to  a
halt. Tahiri was the first to climb out, running back to the corner. Goure was
close behind. Once there, the two of them cautiously  peered  around  just  in
time to see Blaine Harris lead Jaina, Malinza Thanas, and two others into  the
stadium.
     "So much for security," Tahiri muttered over the sound of chanting coming
from speakers within the stadium. "There's no one  at  the  gates.  They  just
walked right in!" "I suspect it was arranged that way." The Ryn's tail brushed
rhythmically against her legs. "And if we're quick enough, we might be able to
take advantage of the situation, too." Together they approached the  entrance,
their pace hurried but wary, aware that at any moment alarms  might  start  to
ring out. In the end, they managed to reach the gateway without  incident  and
slip inside undetected. The rumble of the crowd  within  wrapped  around  them
like a warm and comforting embrace.  Whatever  was  taking  place  inside  the
stadium, Tahiri thought, it certainly sounded impressive.
     "Can you sense your friend?" Goure asked.
     Jaina's mind had been shining like a beacon since well before she'd  left
Blaine Harris's office, just minutes after Tahiri and Goure had arrived. While
she and the Ryn had been trying to convince a security guard to let them in to
see the Deputy Prime Minister, Tahiri had detected that Jaina was on the move.
Retreating from the ministerial offices, Tahiri and Goure had  found  a  droid
interface, via which the Ryn had been able  to  determine  from  security  cam
images that Harris was moving with Jaina. Although they had no idea  of  where
exactly the Deputy Prime Minister was taking Jaina, they'd set out in pursuit,
with Tahiri beginning to despair of being able to reach Harris in time to stop
the ceremony. That they had ended up at the stadium where the ceremony  itself
was taking place was indeed a stroke of luck. Perhaps, she thought, the Deputy
Prime Minister had the same idea  they  had,  and  was  wanting  to  stop  the
ceremony before Cundertol's plan—whatever it was—came into effect.
     But there was an  edge  to  Jaina's  thoughts  that  undermined  Tahiri's
confidence. Something wasn't quite right. If Jaina was Harris's prisoner, then
what did that mean? Tahiri was finding it increasingly difficult to  tell  who
was on what side—which made knowing what to do almost impossible.
     "Well? "Goure asked.
     Tahiri nodded. "Yeah, I can sense her  all  right."  Then  together  they
padded silently down the corridors, following Jaina's presence deep  into  the
bowels of the stadium.
     "Where are you taking us?" Jaina demanded.
     Harris, a few paces ahead, ignored her. Salkeli gave her a shove  in  the
shoulder from behind with the butt of his weapon. It  was  a  simple  message:
Shut up and keep moving. She did so, following the Deputy Prime Minister  down
a wide ramp and through a series of archways barely high enough to accommodate
his large frame. A short time later, they stopped before a  sealed  door  that
looked big enough to drive a landspeeder through.
     It opened when Blaine Harris keyed a long alphanumeric sequence into  the
lock.
     "Move," he ordered curtly,  waving  her  and  the  surviving  members  of
Freedom ahead of him.
     Jaina found herself in an equipment locker, empty  except  for  a  single
metal container in the center of the room.
     "A little bare for my tastes," she said dryly. "But I guess  it  will  do
for now." "As good a place as any to die, you  think?"  Harris  countered.  He
closed the door and strode over to stand beside Jaina. "Take  a  look  at  the
box; tell me what you see." Jaina squatted to take a  closer  look,  carefully
maintaining the pretense that her wrists were still securely  bound.  After  a
moment's consideration, she shrugged. "A remote detonator?" "Very good,"  said
Harris. "Now press the red button." She laughed humorlessly. "You  can't  be—"
"Do it," Harris insisted, raising his weapon  and  pressing  it  to  Malinza's
forehead. "Do it  or  I  shoot  the  girl."  Jaina  glanced  at  Malinza.  Her
expression was determined, but her eyes couldn't hide her fear. They both knew
that Harris's threats weren't idle.
     "Okay," she said,  reaching  out  with  her  seemingly  bound  hands  and
depressing the button. A numeric timer came to life, counting  down  from  ten
standard minutes.
     Harris nodded in satisfaction, lowering the blaster to his side. "And now
that your fingerprints are on the button, your  fate  is  effectively  sealed.
Once you're dead and the bomb goes off, there'll be no one to  plead  in  your
defense." Jaina focused her energy, forcing herself to remain calm.
     Soon, she told herself. Just a little bit longer...
     "You know," she said, standing, "blowing up the stadium  isn't  going  to
help relations with the P'w'eck." It was as much to stall Harris as it was  to
fish for information from the man.
     "If that was my intention," he said, "then yes, I have no doubt that such
an action would seriously compromise relations with the P'w'eck. But it's not.
Well, not the entire stadium, anyway. Just  the  part  where  my  enemies  are
seated." My enemies...
     "Prime Minister Cundertol?" Then, with a terrible  realization  spreading
through her, she said, "My parents?" His smile was wide and  cruel.  "Yes,  my
dear. What will become evident when the pieces are put together  is  that  you
planted the bomb to derail the treaty with the P'w'eck. The Jedi  didn't  want
Bakura to leave the Galactic Alliance, and  they  were  prepared  to  stop  at
nothing to prevent this from  happening.  Your  parents,  unfortunately,  were
simply necessary sacrifices to the cause. Thinking that you were helping  her,
Malinza Thanas was convinced by you to kidnap me and force your way  into  the
stadium, where a bomb  awaited.  But  just  in  time,  your  evil  plans  were
discovered by the misguided but loyal young Malinza who, at the  cost  of  her
own life and the lives of her friends, helped release me. Alas, not in time to
prevent the detonation of the bomb. The Prime Minister will be  killed,  along
with much of the Senate." "And you step in to  make  sure  the  ceremony  goes
ahead as planned, right?" Jaina finished for him.
     "In memory of the brave Malinza  Thanas,  of  course,"  he  added,  still
smiling widely. "It's all rather poetic, don't you think?" "It's  abominable,"
Malinza muttered, unable to hide the tremor from her voice.
     "I think efficient sounds better."  Jaina  glanced  at  the  timer  while
Harris gloated. She had only seven and a half minutes left to deal  with  both
Harris and Salkeli, as well as deactivate the bomb.  Even  for  a  Jedi,  that
seemed a tall order.
     Leia watched with interest as the P'w'eck priests added a swaying,  fluid
dance to their weird chant. The Keera-mak had completed  the  circle  and  was
addressing the sky above, opening its arms  as  if  to  encompass  the  entire
world.
     'The oceans of space have parted to create this island of bounty,'  "  C-
3PO continued to translate. " 'Even in the desert  of  the  void,  oases  must
exist. We invite you to share this one with  us  in  the  spirit  of  galactic
unity: one mind, one body, one spirit, one...'  I'm  afraid  I  am  unable  to
translate this particular phrase." "Remind me again why we had  to  be  here,"
Han whispered. Leia shushed him again.
     "The stars shine kindly upon this world," the Keera-mak said, "for it  is
a blessed place." Leia wasn't so sure about that. Bakura  had  seen  its  fair
share of trouble, and she doubted some alien  blessing  was  going  to  change
that. If the Yuuzhan Vong kept coming, it was going to take  more  than  hand-
waving and the jingling of a few bells to keep them at bay.
     Mind you, she thought, if the  P'w'eck  turned  out  to  be  as  good  at
fighting as the Ssi-ruuk had been, the chances were they'd  give  the  Yuuzhan
Vong a run for their money. The Ssi-ruuk fought  well  when  forced  into  it.
Their fear of dying away from a consecrated world lent any engagements outside
the Imperium a hurried,  almost  frantic  air—which  was  probably  why,  Leia
thought, they were so good at the quick strike. They  had  honed  this  tactic
over the years until they had become the masters of  it.  And  the  more  such
raids they won, the stronger they became, since the object  was  as  often  to
take captives for entechment as it was to destroy.
     Still, she couldn't help feeling a growing edginess as the ceremony built
in intensity. The chanting had reached an almost fever pitch—so much  so  that
C-3PO was barely able to keep up with the Keeramak's intonations.
     The crowd was utterly silent now. Even  Han  abandoned  all  pretence  of
disinterest, leaning forward as though  hypnotized  by  the  swaying,  singing
aliens.
     "... tighten the bonds... conjoined in glorious synergy... although space
may separate... as one in the creche of stars..."  Then  suddenly  a  stab  of
urgency cut though her. She didn't know where it was coming  from,  at  first—
until she identified its source as the Force, and from outside her.
     "Han," she whispered. Then, louder, to be heard over the  P'w'eck:  "Han,
it's Jaina!" He instantly snapped upright in  his  seat.  "Where?"  he  asked,
looking vaguely into the crowd in search of his  daughter.  "  Where?  Is  she
okay? I don't see her!" "She's not here!" Leia struggled to interpret what she
was feeling. "She's calling to me through the Force. She's in trouble—but  her
thoughts aren't focused on herself. She's trying to warn us. She's—" She shook
her head, unable to get a proper reading on the message. "Something's about to
happen." Han turned to his wife. "What is it?" Leia closed her  eyes  to  sort
out a mad jumble  of  wordless  impressions.  Images  she  couldn't  interpret
flooded into her on a tide of growing urgency.
     "Han, I think we need to get out of here. Quickly!" Han rose to his  feet
immediately. He knew better than to question the instincts of  both  his  wife
and his daughter. With Cakhmain and Meewalh gathered close around Leia, he got
to his feet and started to lead the way out of the stadium. No one  paid  them
any attention; they were all too busy concentrating on  the  spectacle  taking
place down below in the stadium's center.
     They reached the edge of the prestige stand unmolested. No assassins  had
lunged at them out of the crowd, nor any threats been issued. But there was no
denying Leia's nervousness. Whatever Jaina was sending her via the  Force,  it
was getting more urgent with each passing moment.
     "What's going on, Leia?" Han asked at one point. "Where is  she?"  "She's
near here. I don't want to distract her, Han.  She's—"  A  near-perfect  image
formed in her mind: explosives, a timer, seconds decreasing rapidly in number.
     "Oh—it's coming!" she gasped. "We have to get down! Run, everyone,  run!"
She shouted this last comment to the people around her, but no one  seemed  to
pay her any mind. They were still taken by what was going on below. Her Noghri
bodyguards bustled their two human charges and C-3PO toward an exit  from  the
stadium. "No!" she shouted. "There's not enough time! Get down! Get down!" Her
bodyguards pressed her to the ground, saurian eyes scanning the crowd for  any
sign of what was to come. The alien chanting was at its peak, screeching  over
the channel, making it almost impossible to hear anything else.
     Then another desperate image from Jaina, so clear it formed words in  her
mind: Tahiri, no!
     The world turned white and her connection to Jaina instantly went dead.
     The ice barge slowed to a halt in the lee  of  a  giant  snow  dune.  The
grating whine of its repulsors ebbed as it settled onto its wide belly.  Fel's
hands worked the controls with practiced ease, guiding the craft  to  a  near-
perfect landing.
     When everything was still, the burly human glanced at Luke as  though  to
ask, Are you sure you know what you're doing?
     When Luke nodded his reassurance,  Fel  killed  the  shields.  The  barge
instantly shuddered as the howling, icy wind swept over it.
     "We'll need survival suits," Syal said.
     Fel shook his head. "We won't be out there long enough to need them. This
should be over in a minute or two." Danni glowered at the ten circular  shapes
swooping around the landed barge. Her eyes were dark with fatigue. "Here comes
one now," she said, pointing at a snow-flier arcing in to land near the barge.
     "And another," Stalgis said, also pointing.
     Saba watched as the strange-looking craft came  down  on  one  edge.  Its
engines burned brightly in infrared, outshining the  cold  sun.  Four  spindly
supports emerged to support the vertical disk in the snow. When it was stable,
a circular panel on its side irised open and a black-clad female pilot stepped
out, her uniform unadorned by rank or other identifying  markers.  The  figure
was tall and slender, just like every other Chiss Saba had  ever  encountered.
Saba watched as the woman strode confidently  to  the  curving  flank  of  the
barge, then jumped lightly up onto it.
     A second pilot joined her, holding one of the two-handed rifles Saba  had
seen in the immersion room. The Chiss called them charrics, she  had  learned.
The first pilot removed her helmet, revealing craggy, weathered features under
close-cropped hair. The blue skin of her  face  looked  colder  than  the  ice
around her.
     "Ganet," Fel said darkly. "I should  have  known."  "Who  is  she?  "Luke
asked.
     "She commands a phalanx for a rival syndic, one who  doesn't  approve  of
the changes I'm encouraging. And I know she wouldn't approve of you,  either."
Master Luke dismissed the implied warning with a smile. "Then maybe it's  time
we meet her," he said. "See if we can't change her mind about us." Fel  didn't
smile back in response. He just slipped his hand into a  pair  of  thin  black
gloves as he turned to his wife. "Everything ready?" Syal nodded and pressed a
button on the ice barge's  controls.  A  display  to  one  side  of  the  main
instrumental panel began to count down.
     Two minutes... one minute fifty-nine seconds...  one  minute  fifty-eight
seconds...
     The main door lifted up and out, and warm air in the cabin was  instantly
sucked outside. An icy chill wrapped itself  around  Saba,  who  clenched  her
teeth, bracing herself for the freezing temperatures.  As  with  most  saurian
species, the cold would slow her down, so she would  have  to  draw  upon  the
Force to counter this—which she did, igniting a ball of warmth  in  her  chest
that spread outward through her  limbs.  Only  her  extremities  retained  any
sensation of the cold, and she kept them tucked in close, curling her  fingers
into fists and tucking her tail near her legs.
     Soontir Fel exited the barge first, exuding  a  calm  self-assurance.  He
surveyed the scene before him, then stepped over the threshold to make way for
the others. Master Luke went next, followed by Saba, Mara, and Stalgis.  Danni
and Syal stayed inside.
     One minute forty-five seconds...
     Fel stopped in front of the female pilot, looking her up  and  down  with
quiet disapproval. Finally he shook his head. "You don't  seem  the  type  for
open rebellion, Ganet." "I prefer the term  excision,  myself,"  she  answered
calmly.
     "Whatever it takes to justify your actions, is that  it?"  Another  pilot
stepped up behind the craggy woman and waited there with charric at the ready.
Two more snow-fliers landed nearby.
     "I'm not here to  banter  with  you,  Fel,"  Ganet  said.  "I  want  your
cooperation. And I will get it, too, because  we  have  your  daughter."  Saba
detected a slight stiffening to Fel's posture, but  his  expression  and  tone
remained firm and steady. "Who exactly are 'we,' Ganet?" "It's not important,"
she said as she raised her weapon and pointed  it  at  his  chest.  "All  that
matters is that we have her,  yes?"  "At  least  tell  me  why."  Fel  stepped
forward, his barrel chest defying the nozzle of her weapon. "I have given  the
Chiss my all since I joined you; surely I have the—" "You joined Thrawn,  Fel!
That's not the same as joining the Chiss.  We  have  ways  and  traditions  he
turned his luck on, and by joining him you proved that you don't respect them,
either." "Isn't one of those traditions not to fire upon an enemy until he has
fired upon you first?" Ganet smiled calmly. "But you  aren't  my  enemy,  Fel.
Don't mistake me on that. You are merely an inconvenience that I will soon  be
rid of." One minute...
     "And what about us?" Master Luke asked.
     Ganet took a step to her right, out of Fel's reach, turning her attention
to the others. "You were invited here on a pretext the CEDF does not  credit,"
she said. "You may have fooled the Houses, but your fables don't  impress  us.
Zonama Sekot is a smokescreen for something more sinister. We just don't  know
what it is yet." "Then you intend to dispose of us, too." Ganet  laughed.  "It
was always our intention to dispose of you, Jedi! We never intended to let you
leave here." "Then the deadline—" Stalgis started.
     "Was a ruse to give us an opportunity to move against  you,  of  course."
"So we're all just pawns in Chief Navigator Aabe's little  power  game?"  Luke
shook his head. "What did you promise him?  Soontir's  position  once  it  was
available?" Thirty seconds...
     "He delivered us the means to  fix  a  difficult  situation,"  she  said,
nodding. "He will be suitably rewarded when the time comes,  yes."  "The  same
way you're 'rewarding' Soontir right now?" Mara said. "Don't you people have a
conscience?" "We are aware of the concept," Ganet said, raising  the  charric,
"but it has no place in war. And this is war, Mara Jade. Have no doubts  about
that whatsoever. In the fight against the Yuuzhan Vong, there can be  no  gray
areas: there are only allies and enemies. The Chiss do not need allies, so I'm
afraid that leaves only the other option." She motioned the  other  snow-flier
pilot to come forward as two more stepped up onto the ice barge. "Please  move
away from the door and turn around—all of you." Ten seconds...
     "That includes your wife, Fel." Fel motioned for Syal and Danni  to  join
them, which they quickly did.
     "I promise you a clean death, Fel," Ganet said. "There is no dishonor  in
accepting your fate." Three seconds...
     "For the Chiss!" "Indeed," Ganet said, mistaking Fel's battle cry  for  a
qualifying statement. "For the—" Now! Luke commanded.
     Saba, Danni, and Mara sprang immediately into action—along  with  Soontir
Fel—a split second before all the ice barge's cannons simultaneously fired.
     The  intended  distraction  worked.  Ganet  and  her  ac-complices   were
momentarily thrown by the explosions — and a moment was all the Jedi needed.
     Fel stepped nimbly to his left. Ganet instinctively followed, the charric
in her hand ready to fire. With a hiss,  Luke's  lightsaber  flared  to  life,
slicing smoothly up to sever the barrel of Ganet's weapon. Fel snap-kicked her
legs from beneath her as Luke  turned  upon  the  second  pilot,  effortlessly
knocking him to the ground with a Force push.
     "You heard me?" Luke called to  Fel.  "I  didn't  know  you  were  Force-
sensitive." "I'm not," Fel responded. "But I can count!" Mara spun around as a
bolt of energy flashed by Luke's head, and saw  the  other  two  pilots  adopt
sharpshooter stances on the edge of the barge. She deflected  the  first  shot
with her lightsaber, exploding a snow dune a hundred meters away into  a  puff
of white. The second shot missed altogether. Saba reached out  with  a  mental
hand and wrenched the pilot's rifle away from him. The remaining pilot  turned
his charric on her and fired. The shot was a good one and would have connected
with Saba's head had she not deflected it back at him with her lightsaber.  He
fell backward off the barge and into the snow.
     A screaming sound heralded an attack from  above.  Blaster  bolts  scored
thick black lines across the top of the barge,  barely  missing  Saba  as  the
snow-flier swept by and swung around for another pass. Two of the  other  five
were already lining up to do the same.
     "Get those shields back on!" Stalgis yelled, picking  up  a  charric  and
taking a potshot at the retreating flier. The shot  pinged  from  the  craft's
side but didn't slow it even slightly.
     "Come on, Saba," Mara said, pointing at two of the landed fliers.  "While
we have the chance!" Saba understood instantly what she meant. Even  with  its
shield up, the ice barge would be vulnerable to the remaining six snow-fliers.
If they were going to reach the spaceport, then they were  going  to  have  to
take a more offensive role in this fight.
     Flexing the muscles in her powerful legs, Saba ran for the  edge  of  the
barge and threw herself forward into the snow.
     Not a moment too soon. Her tail caught the  edge  of  the  shield  as  it
snapped into life. Flexing it to get rid of the tingling, stinging  sensation,
she ran up the snow dune for the nearest of the fliers. Mara took the  one  to
their right, using the Force to assist her movement through  the  thick  snow.
The fliers were larger than they looked in the air—at least twice as  tall  as
Saba and as thick across as three of her body lengths. Like  a  glossy,  black
wheel stuck in the snow, it towered over her  as  she  reached  its  base  and
hauled herself up the egress ladder.
     The controls were different from any she'd  seen  before  but,  like  the
charrics, operated on principles she understood. The craft  didn't  possess  a
sophisticated security system, and responded to the touch of her cold fingers.
Wrapping her tail around her hips, she fired up the engines.
     The flier's legs retracted with a faint whir as it lifted  smoothly  from
the ground; then, with the cockpit  vibrating  to  the  tune  of  the  craft's
powerful repulsors, it swung up into the sky, forcing Saba back into the seat,
grunting in discomfort as her tail was momentarily squashed.
     The flier's weapon system was uncluttered  and  simple  to  operate.  She
armed the blaster cannon and targeted one of the six enemy snow-fliers  coming
around to respond to the new threat. Her first shot went  wide.  She  adjusted
her trim, rapidly familiarizing herself with the snow-flier's  responses.  Her
second shot  was  closer  to  the  mark,  but  she  still  had  to  make  some
adjustments. She fought to ignore the giddying rolls of  the  horizon  as  the
flier she was following banked sharply in an attempt  to  throw  her  off  its
tail. It had been a long time since her last dogfight around Barab I, but  she
was pleased to find that her skills hadn't atrophied.
     A low growl emerged from her throat  as  the  flier  edged  up  into  her
crosshairs. She fired.
     Sparks flew in a comet  tail:  her  shot  had  blown  her  target's  port
stabilizer. It wobbled in an ungainly fashion across  the  sky  as  the  pilot
fought to bring it down in a controlled ditch. Saba didn't stick around to see
if it made it or not; she was too busy bringing her own flier around in search
of another target.
     Mara had downed one flier,  too,  but  that  did  nothing  to  deter  the
remaining four. Regrouping in a tight square formation, they  abandoned  their
attack of the ice barge — now firing its own cannon through its shields at the
enemy  fliers.  Saba  and  Mara  were  disadvantaged  by  their  inability  to
communicate with each other, but the Force more  than  compensated  for  that.
Subtle instructions from Mara  nudged  Saba  in  new  directions,  toward  new
targets. She followed them  without  question,  even  when  they  appeared  to
conflict with what her own instincts were telling her.
     When the Force told her to take her flier in a barrel roll right  through
the heart of the Chiss's diamond-shaped formation, she did just that, breaking
them up and scattering them in four different directions. Mara picked one  off
as she swept by in Saba's wake, reducing the odds to a more comfortable three-
to-two.
     On your tail, Saba!
     Saba twisted in her seat to see what  was  behind  her,  but  immediately
regretted her impulsive reaction. The sudden movement in the  restricted  seat
made her tail cramp.  A  shot  from  behind  sizzled  horribly  close  to  her
starboard cockpit shell. Forcing  herself  to  ignore  the  dis-coirfort,  she
jerked the flight stick down hard, then up again, rolling  the  flier  up  and
over in a loop that brought her behind the flier that had been chasing her. It
pitched forward in an attempt to lose her, but wasn't quick enough to avoid  a
volley of blasterfire that sheared off its cannon and scored  a  hole  in  its
canopy. Wind snatched at the damage, twisting it off course  and  plunging  it
into a snowbank in a bright explosion that scattered debris far out  from  the
impact site.
     Mara performed a spectacular maneuver that knocked another flier  out  of
the sky and left her on a head-to-head  trajectory  with  the  sole  remaining
flier. The Chiss pilot didn't  deviate  from  his  course  in  the  slightest,
however, as the two fliers sped  toward  one  another.  Saba  felt  distinctly
uneasy as she watched, knowing that Mara would never back  down  from  such  a
challenge. Opening herself completely to the Force, she closed  her  eyes  and
fired three rapid cannon bursts. When she opened her  eyes  again,  the  Chiss
flier was spiraling toward the ground with damage to its maneuvering flaps.
     They performed a quick circuit of the grounded ice barge before  landing.
Master Skywalker and the others had rounded up Ina'ganet'nuruodo and the other
three pilots and placed them in binders. The four were on their knees  on  the
flank of the barge, watching bitterly as Syal killed the  barge's  shield  and
Saba and Mara landed nearby.
     Saba's tail whipped gratefully behind her as she climbed aboard the barge
and rejoined her friends. After the heat of battle, the air felt  even  colder
than before.
     "Nice flying," Luke said, addressing the  compliment  to  both  Mara  and
Saba.
     Coming from such an accomplished pilot as the Jedi Master  himself,  Saba
couldn't help but feel pleased. "Thank you," she said, feeling  herself  flush
dark green beneath her scales.
     "The jammer is in Ganet's flier." Luke nodded at one of the fliers  still
parked nearby. "We didn't deactivate it, so they haven't been able to call for
help." "But we could now, right?" Mara asked.
     All eyes turned to Fel, who knew best  of  all  how  the  local  security
forces would react to the development. "I think we should make our way to  the
spaceport, as originally planned," he said  after  a  moment's  consideration.
"While we're out here, there's still an opportunity to dispose of us and erase
the evidence. I think it best we present them with a fait accompli  by  coming
back alive." He shot a dark glance to Ganet, glowering  on  her  knees  before
him. "Showing the Chiss the worst they can do usually brings out the  best  in
them. This is probably just what we need to demonstrate the  futility  of  our
inaction while the rest of the galaxy is at war. There's no  point  pretending
we're strong while our own command structure falls  apart  around  our  ears."
Syal came to stand next to her husband. "I don't want you to go to  war,"  she
said, "but I'd rather that than seeing you betrayed by our  own  people."  Fel
put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. He said nothing, but his  eyes
betrayed the affection he obviously held for her.
     "We should gather the other pilots from the downed  fliers,"  Luke  said.
"We can't leave them out here to die in the cold." "Why  not?"  Stalgis  said,
glaring at Ganet. "They seemed to have no  qualms  about  killing  us."  Ganet
glared back at him without apology.
     "But we're not them," the Jedi Master pointed out soberly. "Saba, can you
sense any of them out there?" A quick Force reading of  the  wasteland  around
them located the remaining pilots with ease. "Four of them are alive; three of
those are injured. This one will guide  you  to  them."  Fel  urged  the  four
captives to their feet. "Inside," he said. "And  don't  try  anything,  Ganet,
because believe me when I say that I won't display the  same  compassion  that
the Jedi have." The woman turned her red eyes upon him malevolently,  but  she
did as she was told without argument.
     "And what about Wyn?" Syal asked. "What  do  we  do  about  her?"  "Don't
worry," Luke said. "If I know Jacen, that's already being dealt with." Despair
was a feeling Jaina had never succumbed to — not entirely—but frustration  was
a completely different story. She had tried twice to distract Salkeli, but the
Rodian was watching her far too closely. With the blaster trained  on  Malinza
and the others, there was no way she could risk an open attack.
     Then she felt a touch through  the  Force  that  was  at  the  same  time
familiar and strikingly unfamiliar.
     Tahiri was nearby and coming closer.
     Unnerved though she was by the thought of touching minds with  the  young
Jedi, Jaina made her presence as strong in the Force as she could.  If  Tahiri
was homing in on her and arrived in time...
     Unaware of the subtle  life  energies  flowing  around  him,  Harris  had
produced Jaina's lightsaber from  the  folds  of  his  robe  and  triumphantly
activated the shining blade.
     "There remains only one thing to do to make  the  story  watertight,"  he
said. "If the Jedi really are to be the enemy, our hero needs  some  realistic
wounds. Don't you think?" Salkeli grinned as Harris  approached  Malinza.  The
girl backed away in horror. Vyram pushed  himself  between  the  Deputy  Prime
Minister and the girl. Harris, however, wasn't fazed in the slightest.
     "Either one of you will do," he said, raising the violet blade  over  his
head, ready to strike. "I really don't mind which one gets  it  first."  Jaina
couldn't wait any longer. If she was going to act, then she needed  to  do  it
now.
     A swift outward movement of her arms got rid  of  the  binders,  and  one
solid Force push knocked the lightsaber out of Harris's hands. She duck-rolled
as Salkeli brought his blaster to bear on her, his eyes widening  in  surprise
at the abrupt turn of events. She kicked the Rodian's legs from  beneath  him.
Harris wasted no time getting his own blaster out, but Jaina was on  her  feet
in time to deflect his first two shots, directing  them  harmlessly  into  the
wall. Another two bolts hissed by, exploding loudly somewhere behind her. Then
with three quick steps, she lunged at the Deputy Prime Minister, clubbing  him
with the handgrip of her lightsaber. He collapsed back  against  the  wall,  a
look of startled annoyance frozen on his face as he slumped to the floor.
     Confident that there was no longer any threat from Harris, she turned her
attention back to Salkeli. Malinza, however, had already taken  care  of  him.
The girl had him pinned to the ground with one arm twisted up behind his back.
     Jaina nodded, impressed. "Well done," she said.  Then,  holding  out  her
lightsaber, she added, "Here, give me your hands." She cut  the  binders  from
both Malinza and Vyram with two deft flicks of her blade.
     "You'll pay for this!" Salkeli snarled from the floor.  "Your  time  will
come soon enough, Jedi  filth!"  "Want  me  to  shut  him  up?"  Vyram  asked,
collecting Harris's blaster.
     "Not yet," Jaina said, deactivating her lightsaber. "We  might  yet  need
his help." Then, with dismay, she saw the ruin of the remote detonator. One of
the stray blaster bolts had struck it square in the  top  casing.  The  Rodian
followed her stare to the smoking, half-melted box, and burst into  a  fit  of
mocking laughter.
     Malinza looked, too. "What do we do now?" Jaina thought frantically. "How
much longer did we have on the timer?" Vyram shook his head. "I have no idea."
"You've lost, Jedi!" Salkeli cackled.
     "Not yet, we haven't," she said, grabbing him under the  chin.  "Tell  me
where the bomb is, and tell me  now."  The  Rodian  stared  at  the  crackling
lightsaber close to his face. "Not that you can do anything to  stop  it  now,
anyway, but it's under  the  premium  stalls,  tucked  safely  away  behind  a
ferrocrete support." "But it still doesn't help us,"  Malinza  said,  "because
we're trapped in here!" The sound of pounding erupted from the far side of the
locked door.
     Jaina reached out through the Force and felt Tahiri trying to attract her
attention, but the door was too thick to shout through, and two  Jedi  weren't
enough to form a Force-meld.
     Frustration returned, but only for an instant. Looking over  to  Salkeli,
she suddenly remembered... She hurried across the room to where the Rodian lay
pinned by Malinza. A quick search of his pockets and she soon found  what  she
was looking for: her comlink.
     "Tahiri, can you hear me?" A second's pause before: "Jaina?  We're  right
here outside the door!" "I know. Can you get it open, though?" There was  some
hesitation. "The code sequence might take a minute or two to get through,  but
yes, we should be able to get you out."  "We  don't  have  a  minute  or  two,
Tahiri. Listen: there's a bomb. You have to get to it and defuse  it."  "Where
is it?" Jaina repeated the information that Salkeli had given her.
     "How long do we have?" "I'm not sure, but I'm guessing  not  much.  There
was a ten-minute timer, and it's already been  ticking  away  for  some  time.
You'd better get going while I find out how  to  disarm  it."  "Okay.  Goure's
going to stay here and try to get the door  open."  "Who's—?"  "He's  the  Ryn
who's been helping us. You can trust him." Jaina nodded.  "Don't  worry  about
us. We're probably safer in here than you are. Just  get  going!"  She  sensed
Tahiri hurrying away up the corridor, calling on the  Force  to  maximize  her
speed. She could feel the girl's exhaustion, too, and wished  she  could  send
some of her strength to help. But there  was  little  she  could  do  in  that
regard. She had to direct her efforts elsewhere.
     Jaina turned away from the door and squatted down next to  the  squirming
Salkeli, still futilely trying to break free.
     "I thought Rodians always had an escape plan," she said. The Rodian  spat
at her and glared. She didn't let it bother her. "How do I  disarm  the  bomb,
Salkeli?" "How should I know?" he growled. "And what makes you think I'd  tell
you even if I did? I've already told you too much." Jaina  sighed.  "I'll  try
again," she said, this time with some Force persuasion behind it.  "How  do  I
disarm the bomb?" His eyes glazed over slightly  as  he  said,  "It  can't  be
deactivated now." That threw her for a moment. "There has to be  a  way!"  She
pushed even harder with the Force. She didn't believe for a  moment  that  the
Rodian wouldn't have had at least some knowledge of Harris's bomb.  "Now  tell
me what it is, Salkeli. How is the bomb disarmed?" "The remote detonator,"  he
answered without resistance. Then, glancing over to the ruined box, he  smiled
nastily. "But like I said, there's no way to  disarm  it  now."  Jaina  cursed
under her breath. It was unlikely the Rodian had the will to resist the  Force
persuasion, so he was probably telling the truth—or the truth as  he  saw  it,
anyway. And even if the Deputy Prime Minister  did  know  of  another  way  to
deactivate the bomb, it was unlikely they'd be able to rouse him  in  time  to
get that information.
     "I'm almost there," Tahiri said over the  comlink,  her  voice  crackling
through dozens of meters  of  durasteel  and  ferrocrete.  "Do  you  have  the
information?" Jaina shook her head, beginning to  feel  nauseous.  "Tahiri,  I
don't think it can be disarmed." "What?" "Harris rigged it so that it can't be
switched off without the remote detonator—and that's been  destroyed!"  "There
has to be a way, Jaina." "There isn't. I've seen devices  like  these  before.
We're lucky it didn't automatically go off early." "Then what are going to do?
" "We try to warn Mom and Dad, and get them to alert Cundertol. If we're quick
enough, they might be able to clear the stand and get everyone  away  before—"
"How much time do we have?" "I still don't know, Tahiri. But not much, so  get
out of there as quickly as possible, okay?" She tried to raise her  mother  on
the comlink, but its signal was too weak. Instead, she reached out through the
Force. Leia Organa Solo was one mind among thousands, but her mental signature
was instantly recognizable. Jaina felt secondhand the hypnotic  power  of  the
consecration ceremony gathering force throughout the stadium,  and  fought  to
punch through it.
     Mom! You have to get out of there. There's a bomb!
     It was difficult to convey more than sense impressions through the Force,
but she tried her best, and did receive a faint hint of  a  response  for  her
efforts. She couldn't tell, though, if her mother understood.
     "I've found it," Tahiri said. "I have the bomb right here in front of me.
" Jaina's anxiety doubled. "What are you still doing in there, Tahiri? I  told
you to get out!" "I'm going to try to disarm it." "Tahiri, do as I  tell  you!
Just get out of there and try to warn the others!" "Jaina, we don't  know  how
much time we have. What if they can't clear everyone out in time?"  Jaina  bit
back an angry response. "You don't know what you're doing, though!" "Then I'll
just have to improvise, won't I?" came the reply.
     Jaina reached out with all her strength  and  tried  to  Force-meld  with
Tahiri. The link was faint, but she did receive a  brief  clear  view  through
Tahiri's eyes. The bomb in front of her was not equipped for manual disarming,
but it did have a timer. In bold blue digits, Jaina could see they had seventy
seconds left.
     Sixty-nine...
     Then something cold and dark pushed her away and the link ebbed.
     Mom! Can you hear me? Jaina called, fighting a mounting desperation.  Get
everyone out of there—fast!
     The locker door hissed open and the Ryn called Goure rushed in, his  tail
straight out behind him. "What's going on?"  Jaina  checked  her  chronometer.
They had only thirty seconds left.
     "Get that door shut!" she told him sharply. "That bomb's about to go off!
" The meld with Tahiri returned, faintly.
     "I'm making progress," the girl said over  the  comlink.  "I've  got  the
cover off and I think I can-Sparks flashed and Jaina received the  sharp  tang
of burning wires through the Force. At the same  time  she  felt  the  equally
sharp stab of hopelessness as Tahiri realized she didn't have a clue  what  to
do next.
     "Tahiri, you've got to get out of there!" "No, there has to  be  a  way!"
"There isn't! Now, move!" "I can do it, Jaina. I have to!" "Why?  So  you  can
die like Anakin?" The backlash of pain surprised Jaina and made her  instantly
regret her words. "Tahiri, I'm—" "You don't trust me,  do  you,  Jaina?"  "You
don't have to prove anything to me, Tahiri. Please, just—" "I  can  do  it!  I
know I can." "Can we argue about this later, Tahiri?" But again something dark
and powerful broke the meld between them, its presence casting a  black  shape
in Jaina's mind.
     "Mon-mawl rrish hu camasami!" The words cut  into  Jaina  like  a  jagged
blade. "Tahiri!" "No!" Tahiri cried, her desperation  shattering  the  fragile
darkness. "Leave me alone!" Her will  was  not  as  strong  as  the  darkness,
though, and the broken pieces of the shadow reassembled, twice as powerful  as
it had been before.
     "Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" The voice over  the  comlink  didn't  sound  like
Tahiri's, but Jaina recognized the words. She'd heard it on the  lips  of  her
enemies many times in the past. It was a Yuuzhan Vong battle cry.
     "Riina?" Jaina asked.
     The voice changed to Basic with uncanny ease. "Anakin killed  me—and  now
you want me dead, too! I won't let that happen!  Krel  nag  sh'n  rrush  fek!"
"Wait, Riina!" It was too late: time had run out. The bomb  went  off  with  a
muffled concussion that Jaina felt rather than heard. The floor bucked beneath
her, throwing everyone to the ground. The lights went out; someone screamed.
     Jaina collected herself when  the  shaking  died  down.  She  frantically
reached out into the darkness for Tahiri's mind. No matter how much she tried,
though, she couldn't find it anywhere.
     Tahiri was gone.
     Wyn's fear was strong in Jacen's mind as he tracked  her  and  her  Chiss
escort along the ice tunnels far below Csilla's frozen surface. He sensed that
she was frightened, but had nothing concrete on which  to  pin  her  concerns.
Although she clearly didn't like  Chief  Navigator  Aabe,  as  yet  he'd  done
nothing overt to threaten her.
     Let's just hope it stays that way, he thought.
     "I don't understand," Irolia hissed from  behind  him.  "Why  would  Aabe
kidnap Assistant Syndic Fel's daughter?" "I have no idea, Commander. All I  do
know is that he has taken her, and that we have to stop him  before  any  harm
comes to her." "But how can you know this?" she asked. "This Force of yours is
something we don't have. How do I know you're telling me the truth? For all I—
" He motioned her to silence. They had reached an intersection, and his breath
puffed into thick, frosty clouds as he peered around  the  corner.  He  didn't
have time to justify his actions to Irolia, or try  to  convince  her  of  the
existence of the Force. Wyn was close; he could feel her.
     The way ahead held a faint glimmer of light: the  bubble  of  warmth  and
heat containing Aabe, the two guards, and Soontir Fel's youngest daughter  was
moving rapidly away from them.
     "They're heading for the iceway terminus," Irolia said, looking past him.
     "Which is?"  "An  underground  transport  station.  There  are  excavated
tunnels through the bedrock, far below the ice. Carriages travel through them.
" Jacen quickly considered their options. "Then we'll just have to  stop  them
before they reach it." "Agreed—because if they manage to get onto a  carriage,
then they could be on the other side of the planet within an hour." He  turned
to look at her. The Chiss  commander  was  staring  ahead  with  a  determined
expression, her blue skin and red  eyes  contrasting  powerfully  in  the  icy
gloom. All suggestion of the skepticism  she'd  voiced  just  moments  earlier
appeared to have left her. Even if she wasn't convinced about his motives,  at
least she was determined to help him get Wyn back in one piece.
     He felt vaguely sorry for her. She'd been put in charge  of  baby-sitting
the visitors from the Galactic Alliance through Chiss space and on Csilla.  It
wasn't her fault that she'd been betrayed by a senior  officer,  whose  orders
she hadn't even thought to question. He could understand her  wanting  to  fix
the situation before word of her mistake spread.
     The light flickered and died at the end of the tunnel. At some point,  he
knew, he was going to have to try to get closer. He could think of  no  actual
way to hide along the dark and icy corridor so that Aabe and the other  guards
wouldn't see them, but he couldn't afford to hold back, either. The longer  he
left it, the farther away Wyn became.
     "Come on, Commander. We're going to have to run to catch them." "Are  you
sure you'll be able to? Running in these temperatures  can  be  more  draining
than people realize." "You just worry about keeping up." He let the Force flow
through him, guiding his footfalls and strengthening the muscles in his  legs.
His fatigue washed away, along with his concerns for Wyn and  the  others.  He
concentrated solely on running: a single, pure  action  that  allowed  him  to
focus his thoughts. What he would do when he caught up with  Aabe,  he  didn't
rightly know. Nor did it matter. Nothing did. He existed simply to cross  this
short stretch of ice that separated Wyn from himself, and  while  he  remained
focused on that solitary task, he was able to do it with an athletic ease.
     Irolia matched his pace beside him, but with considerably more effort. By
the time they reached the junction where the lit section had disappeared,  her
breathing was coming in long, deep gulps. She leaned against the nearest  wall
as Jacen peered around another corner. They seemed to be a lot  closer  now—so
close, in fact, that Aabe was clearly distinguishable  within  the  bubble  of
light ahead by virtue of the gleam off his scalp.
     "Are you okay to continue?" he whispered to Irolia.
     She nodded. "I am in perfect physical condition," she said, wiping  sweat
from her forehead. "I could run the same distance three times over  and  still
fight at the end of it." "That's good to hear," Jacen  said,  "because  that's
probably what you're going to have to do." He glanced around  the  icy  corner
again. "How far do you figure before they reach those carriages?"  "There  are
only two more junctions between here and the iceway terminus." "Then  I  guess
we'd better get moving. Are you sure you're  ready?"  "You  just  worry  about
keeping up," she said.
     He smiled at the commander's quip, then continued with  his  pursuit.  He
was more cautious this time, because they were well  within  sight  of  Aabe's
party. He didn't know how well sound carried through the  fields  keeping  the
heat in, but he couldn't  afford  to  assume  that  their  approach  would  be
covered. He didn't even know if he'd be able  to  penetrate  the  field  walls
around the bubble. Another two corners would give him and Irolia time to catch
up as Aabe and Wyn reached the terminus, when they would be distracted and out
of the fields.
     As Jacen drew closer, a faint hissing broke the silence. The  sound  came
from the field walls as they swept over the icy surfaces  around  the  bubble.
Beneath the sound was a hint of voices, too low for him to catch anything more
than broken fragments. From the handful of words he  was  able  to  make  out,
though, he knew that Wyn was starting to question  Aabe's  intentions,  asking
why her father was having her transported via  the  iceways  rather  than  the
barge. Aabe muttered something that  went  unheard,  as  did  Wyn's  response—
although there was no mistaking the misgivings in the girl's tone.
     They rounded one corner, then the second; all that lay between  them  and
the iceway terminus now was a straight stretch of  tunnel.  Jacen  and  Irolia
kept pace with the bubble, lurking just beyond the  wash  of  light  it  cast.
Jacen undipped his lightsaber from his belt  and  held  it  ready,  his  thumb
resting on the activation stud.
     The bubble dissolved as Aabe, the guards, and Wyn left the tunnel. Beyond
them was the terminus—a much smaller space than Jacen had imagined.  Long  and
narrow, it had a series of sliding panels set into the far wall,  which  Jacen
presumed to be air locks leading to the carriages.
     Jacen and Irolia stopped at the end of the tunnel,  watching  quietly  as
Aabe and the others crossed the narrow room to one of the sliding doors.  Only
when one of these doors grated open did Wyn give in to  the  misgivings  Jacen
had heard in her voice.
     "I'd like to talk to my father," she said,  pulling  away  from  the  ex-
Imperial and his Chiss sidekicks. "I want to  know  where  he's  sending  me."
"It's a little late to ask that, don't you think?" Aabe's skull  gleamed.  His
mouth, overshadowed by his large nose, curled into a menacing snarl.
     She shook her head uneasily. "This isn't right," she said, taking another
step back. "You're lying to me. My father wouldn't ask me  to  be  taken  down
here!?
     Aabe rounded on her in order to cut off her route to the exit. "And  what
possible reason would I have to lie to you, child? I am your father's  trusted
servant. You know that.  Why  do  you  dishonor  me  with  such  accusations?"
"Trusted servant?" she shot  back,  looking  frightened  but  determined.  "My
father says he never even heard of you  until  you  turned  up  on  the  Chiss
border, looking for asylum. He thinks  you're  a  deserter!"  Jacen  could  no
longer  see  Aabe's  face,  but  his  posture  noticeably   stiffened.   "Your
accusations grow with your hysteria, child," he said frostily. "You should  be
mindful of the things you say." "Do you deny it?" she continued, regardless of
the obvious danger she was in.
     "It is irrelevant," he replied, unclipping  the  holster  at  his  waist.
"You're coming with me whether you like it or not, and I'll hear no more  said
about your father. His time is over. The CEDF has better  things  to  do  than
pander to neighbors who can't mind their own affairs. The sooner  he  and  you
are out of the way, the better it will be for all concerned." Wyn backed  away
a few more steps, straight into the arms of one of the guards. Aabe  drew  his
blaster and approached her.
     Jacen had heard enough. Before, it might have  just  been  possible  that
Aabe was following orders, but now there was no mistaking his intentions.
     "I really think it's in your best interest to lower that weapon  and  let
the girl go, Chief Navigator," Jacen said, activating  his  lightsaber  as  he
stepped out from the shadowed corridor.
     Aabe spun around, redirecting his blaster's aim at  Jacen.  Then,  seeing
Irolia with him, his face crumpled into a frown. "What is the meaning of this?
I demand an explanation!" " Funny, but I was about to  say  exactly  the  same
thing," the commander said, drawing her own blaster.
     "I need explain nothing to  you,  Commander,"  Aabe  sneered.  "I'm  your
superior officer. Remember? And I am ordering you to turn around and return to
your normal duties." "As an officer  of  the  Expansionary  Defense  Force,  I
believe it is my duty to ensure the safety and security of  the  Chiss  realm.
That directive, as you are well aware, supersedes all others. It  is  my  firm
belief that I am following  that  directive  right  now."  Irolia  raised  her
blister and sighted Aabe along the barrel. "So, if you wouldn't mind  dropping
your weapon, sir..." "You fool!" Jacen felt the  Force  rush  through  him  an
instant before Aabe fired. His  instincts  moved  him  forward,  swinging  his
lightsaber up and across to intersect the bolt before it could hit  Irolia.  A
split second later she, too, fired. Jacen didn't hesitate: his lightsaber came
down again, deflecting that bolt also.
     "What are you doing?" Irolia snapped.
     Jacen  didn't  have  time  to  explain  to  the  commander  that  it  was
unnecessary for anyone to die; he was too busy advancing on Aabe as the  chief
navigator  slowly  retreated.  The  guards  stood  behind  him,  frozen   with
indecision.
     "You cowards!" Aabe yelled back at them. "He's only a boy! Take him!" But
the guards took another step away from him,  making  it  clear  to  Jacen  and
Irolia that Aabe was on his own in this. When the commander indicated for them
to lower their weapons, they did so without hesitation,  laying  them  on  the
floor at their feet. Whether they had been part of the  conspiracy  or  simply
following orders was something that would have to be determined later.
     Realizing his situation, Aabe grabbed Wyn and shoved her forcibly between
himself and Jacen; then he turned to run for the open  iceway  carriage  door,
his only chance at obtaining freedom. Jacen took three long strides  to  bring
himself within reach of the fleeing man, his  lightsaber  raised,  tensed  and
ready to strike.
     A single exertion of will, backed up by the Force, wrenched the  carriage
doors closed. Aabe crashed into them at full tilt, toppling back onto the  ice
at Jacen's feet, his blaster flying out of his stunned  grasp  and  clattering
across the floor. Wyn was quick to pick it up and point it at him.
     "There's nowhere to run," Jacen said, the steady thrum of his  lightsaber
sounding in the cold air.
     He felt Wyn watching in amazement as he stood over Aabe, willing the  man
to give up. Defiance lingered in Aabe's eyes, but then suddenly flickered  and
died. The man sagged back to the floor with a defeated sigh.
     Jacen stepped back, lowering his lightsaber, glad  that  the  crisis  was
over—and that nobody had been hurt.
     He activated his comlink, and it bleeped immediately. It was his uncle.
     "Jacen? Is everything all right?" "It is now," he answered.
     "And Wyn?" "She's fine. I'll fill you in on all the details later." "Well
done, Jacen. You've defused a potentially difficult situation." "Thanks, Uncle
Luke," he returned, deactivating his lightsaber  and  reattaching  it  to  his
belt. Irolia was already busy speaking into a wall communicator,  calling  for
backup. "How's everything there?" "Under  control.  We've  heard  from  Tekli;
someone made a halfhearted attempt to break through Jade  Shadow's  air  lock,
but they failed and haven't come back. Port security is already  looking  into
the incident. It looks like we've weathered the storm rather well,  don't  you
think?" As Jacen watched the guards hoist Aabe onto  his  feet,  he  found  he
could only nod in silent agreement. A failed attempt to put them  out  of  the
picture would almost certainly bring the Chiss more firmly behind them—as well
as Fel. The real leaders behind the attempt—assuming Aabe wasn't as high up as
they went—would no doubt lie low for a while, fearing  reprisals  from  either
Chiss loyal to the existing command structure, like Irolia,  or  the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances, which was bound to take an  attack  on  peaceful
diplomats poorly. It might also  mean  that  the  two-day  deadline  would  be
extended.
     "How long do you think before you'll get back?" he asked his uncle.
     "Probably within the hour," Luke said. "We'll resume our  search,  then."
Jacen nodded to himself again, glad to be able to put the incident behind them
and get back to work.
     "And Jacen?" Luke said. "Don't assume that everything that happened  here
has been unimportant. The smallest action can have the  largest  consequences.
The good work we've done today may have far-reaching consequences—consequences
we can only guess at right now." "I know, Uncle Luke," Jacen said.  "I'll  see
you when you get back, okay?" "Take care, Jacen." "You, too."  He  closed  the
line and returned the comlink to his belt, reflecting upon the simple truth of
his uncle's words. He couldn't help but wonder at  what  the  consequences  of
this day would be. Perhaps saving Wyn would enable her to achieve her ambition
of seeing Coruscant. One day, when the war was over,  the  girl  could  easily
follow in her brother's footsteps and  leave  Chiss  space  in  favor  of  the
Galactic Alliance. He sensed strength and determination in her, as well  as  a
keen intellect. If she wanted to do something badly enough, he  had  no  doubt
that she would find away.
     What will become of you, Wyn Fel? he wondered to himself. Only time would
tell, he supposed—and if he could give her nothing else, he would do his  best
to give her that, at least. The time to realize her  potential:  her  and  the
Chiss, as well as the galaxy itself.
     He shrugged off the  train  of  thought,  forcing  himself  back  to  the
present. Wyn was standing to one side,  the  blaster  in  her  hand  trembling
slightly. She was staring at him with something approximating awe.
     "Are you all right?" he asked her.
     She nodded once. "A little shaken, but I'll be okay." She  couldn't  seem
to take her eyes off him. "Thank  you  for  coming  when  you  did.  You  were
amazing!" He felt himself flush slightly, at the compliment  as  well  as  the
girl's obvious admiration for him that had prompted it. But he forced  himself
to ignore it. There were much more important things to concern  himself  with.
Bigger than Wyn or Aabe—bigger even than himself. The search for Zonama  Sekot
was of paramount importance. Everything else was just a distraction.
     "All in a day's work," he told Wyn, with a smile that he hoped would hide
his discomfort at her adoration. "The life of a Jedi is  not  a  boring  one."
Mom? Mom!
     In the aftermath of the explosion, Jaina's mind was filled  with  psychic
pain. She sent her mind out among the wounded and  dying,  searching  for  her
mother. She found her mother and father down in  the  thick  of  it,  fighting
their way through the panicked crowd, trying to get to where help  was  needed
the most.
     Jaina sat up in the gloom of the room's emergency  lighting.  The  locker
was  filled  with  dust,  but  it  had  remained  intact—just  as  Harris  had
anticipated it would. Malinza was climbing to her feet, shaking her head grog-
gily. Vyram and Goure were clambering upright, too, both coughing violently as
the dust caught in their throats. Salkeli lay curled in  a  ball,  looking  up
with a grin on his face, triumphant that their best efforts to stop  the  bomb
had failed. Harris remained where Jaina had left him: out cold in the corner.
     She collected the comlink from the  floor  where  she'd  dropped  it  and
quickly activated it.
     "Mom?" She opened the locker door to reduce the interference.  "Mom,  can
you hear me?" It took a few moments before Leia answered. "I hear you, Jaina."
Relief rushed through her at the sound of her mother's  voice.  "Are  you  all
right?" "I'm okay. But, Mom—Tahiri!" "I know; I felt it, too." "Do  you  think
she's okay?" "I don't know, Jaina." "I'll never forgive myself if she's—" Leia
didn't let her finish. "You aren't to blame for  anything  that  has  happened
here, Jaina." Jaina knew that wasn't true. If she hadn't been so closed off to
the girl in the first place, if she'd tried to help her confront her  problems
earlier instead of...
     She broke away from the guilt-ridden thought.
     "How bad is it up there, Mom?" "It's utter chaos. The blast took out  the
Prime Minister's stalls. Security is trying to  clear  the  area  now."  Jaina
caught flashes from her mother: frightened faces, tangled wreckage, and blood—
lots of blood.
     Before she could ask if there was anything she could do, Salkeli took the
opportunity to gloat. "You look a little concerned there,  Jedi,"  the  Rodian
said with a half smile, half sneer. "Not so sure of yourself now, are—"  Vyram
didn't ask this time; he just shut the Rodian up by stunning him with the butt
of his blaster. "What do we do now?" he asked, stepping up to Jaina.
     "We go topside to help," she answered. "Besides,  security  has  to  know
about these two." "I'll go," Malinza said.
     Jaina shook her head. "They might not believe you." "No," the girl  said,
"but they will listen." "And 1 can stay here and keep an eye on these two,  if
you like," Vyram said.
     Jaina thought about this for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, and I'll  back
you up when I get there." "Wait a minute," Goure said. "Where are you  going?"
"To find Tahiri." "Then I'm coming, too," he said. The Ryn had a look  in  his
eye that Jaina recognized from her father—the kind  that  said  there  was  no
point arguing.
     Jaina shrugged helplessly and let him follow her  out  as  they  retraced
Tahiri's steps through the damaged corridors, updating Leia as they went.  The
stadium's structure had held,  but  it  was  going  to  require  an  extensive
overhaul. The closer they got to the center of  the  blast,  the  more  damage
there was. Ceilings had come down, ferrocrete  had  cracked,  stanchions  were
twisted, and the air was full of dust.
     "Through here, I think," she said, following the vague impressions  she'd
received from Tahiri's mind. Everything had looked so different then, with the
smooth, clean corridors. Now they were in ruins, open to the sky. The cries of
the wounded were very real from such close quarters, and the  smell  of  smoke
and dust was powerfully strong.
     At the heart of the destruction, they  found  a  clear  space  about  two
meters across. The blast had destroyed everything around the area, but nothing
within it. And there at its center lay Tahiri, curled up like a  child  hiding
from a nightmare.
     Jaina came to a halt at the  edge  of  the  unaffected  area,  her  heart
pounding sickeningly fast in her  chest.  She  tried  reaching  for  the  girl
through the Force, but she still couldn't find her.
     "What happened here?" Goure asked.
     "She must have put a Force bubble around herself," Jaina said. She looked
around, surveying the damage more closely. " Looks like it deflected the  bulk
of the blast away from above." She  reached  out  cautiously  with  her  hand,
feeling for the bubble, and was surprised to find nothing there. "It must have
closed when she passed out." Goure moved to the girl's  side  and  rolled  her
over. Tahiri turned without resistance and lay on her back with her eyes open.
"Tahiri?" The Ryn felt for a pulse in her throat when there was  no  response.
"She's alive." Jaina tried to reach her  through  the  Force  one  more  time.
Tahiri?
     Nothing. Jaina had never felt anyone  so  empty  before.  The  girl  felt
hollow in the Force,  almost  —  She  stopped  the  thought,  not  wanting  to
introduce the idea into her mind. But it was too late.
     Almost invisible, she thought. Like the Yuuzhan Vong!
     Jaina's comlink beeped.
     "Jaina?" Her mother's voice came again over the comlink.
     She turned away from Tahiri and raised her comlink. "Yes,  Mom?"  "Rescue
teams have reached the epicenter of the blast."  Looking  up,  she  could  see
movement through the hole. "We're directly below. Are you  with  them?"  "Yes.
They've started pulling bodies out of the rubble." A sickening sensation swept
through her. If she'd only acted faster, not wasted  time  assuming  the  bomb
could be defused...
     "How many?" she asked.
     "Four so far. And—" Leia's hesitation told her there was worse to come.
     "What is it, Mom?" "It's Prime  Minister  Cundertol.  He's  dead."  Jaina
looked down into Tahiri's empty, almost  accusing  eyes.  The  hollowness  she
exhibited was catching.
     "Jama? Did you hear me?" "I heard you, Mom. I'm on my way up." Goure took
Tahiri into his arms and together they negotiated the rubble. As they  reached
the surface, Ma-linza's words about the Cosmic Balance came back to haunt her.
Good works lead to evil results. Jaina had been trying to do the right  thing,
but it had all gone so terribly wrong. Salkeli had betrayed her; Zel and Jjorg
were dead; Tahiri was unconscious; the Prime Minister had been murdered—all of
this, despite her best efforts.
     It wasn't just her, either. Uncle Luke had liberated  the  Bakurans  from
the Empire only to see them turn their backs on the Galactic Alliance. The New
Republic had created the Bakuran Defense Fleet to protect the planet from  the
Ssi-ruuk, but half of it had been destroyed elsewhere in the  galaxy,  leaving
Bakura vulnerable again. Bakura had never been the aggressor, yet  bad  things
kept  happening  to  it.  No  wonder  its  people  were  eager  to  look   for
alternatives.
     And what if the treaty with the P'w'eck did turn out  to  be  legitimate?
she asked herself. What then? What evil might that reap farther down the track
for the planet?
     They clambered out into the daylight and saw the  small  knot  of  people
gathered around the Prime Minister's body, looking down in shock  and  horror.
The large man lay sprawled out on a repulsor gurney, the scorched  remains  of
his ceremonial robes torn down the center,  where  a  meditech  had  struggled
unsuccessfully to  revive  him.  Leia's  attention  was  fixed  on  the  Prime
Minister's body and the activities taking place around it, but she  looked  up
to acknowledge Jaina. She was pale beneath  sooty  smudges  that  covered  her
face. Her expression was one of abhorrence, and  her  eyes  were  filled  with
tears and pain.
     Reports were garbled from below, but the sense of disaster  was  all  too
vivid for Jag's liking.  Relayed  from  commentators  and  unofficial  sources
through Selonia to him, there was a lot of room for misinformation. There  had
been some sort of explosion during the consecration  ceremony.  Something  had
muffled the blast, though,  according  to  commentators  on  the  ground,  and
thankfully the damage to the intended target wasn't as extensive as  it  could
have been.
     Nevertheless, two Senators were dead, along with half a dozen guards  and
a couple of guests. Forty more had incurred wounds, with injuries ranging from
hearing loss to loss of limbs. And, of course, there was Cundertol himself.
     "Ktah," he spat. The Chiss rarely expressed emotions  vocally,  but  they
did have words for it when the occasion arrived.  Assassination  was  an  ugly
tactic, no matter who employed it, and if this turned out to be  the  work  of
ter-rorists hoping to disrupt the consecration  ceremony,  he  was  sure  that
retaliation would be swift and brutal.
     It hadn't been terrorists, some of the uglier rumors said, but the Deputy
Prime Minister himself...
     Jaina's reappearance had brought some  comfort,  briefly.  She  had  only
confirmed everyone's worst fears: Blaine Harris had set the  bomb,  hoping  to
incriminate the Galactic Alliance and make a martyr out of Malinza  Thanas  as
well as getting Cundertol out of the way.
     The implications of this stunned Jag,  and  he  shook  his  head  at  the
thought. With Cundertol dead and Harris likely to face any number of  charges,
Bakura had effectively been stripped of its highest levels  of  command...  On
the heels of that thought came an announcement from Pride of  Selonia:  "We've
just had word from Sentinel" Captain Mayn said. "General  Panib  has  declared
martial law. He's requested that, no matter what happens, we  don't  take  any
direct action. Word is filtering down the chains of  command  on  both  sides.
He's not exactly sure what the Keeramak will  make  of  this  yet,  but  we're
picking up activity on the Salis D'aar spaceport where the P'w'eck  ships  are
parked. My guess is they're not going to sit around and do nothing while bombs
go off around their precious leader." Jag agreed.  It  made  sense  that  they
would pull out and try again  later.  There  had  been  no  mention  that  the
ceremony had to be performed at a specific time, so presumably there'd  be  no
problem with picking up and carrying on from where they left off later.  "What
do you want us to do?" he asked Mayn. "Just back  off  a  little.  This  is  a
touchy time. Whatever this 'honor guard' is really about, we're just going  to
have to leave them to it for a while." '"Understood." He relayed the order  to
his pilots and changed the vector of his own wing,  letting  the  trio  they'd
been following drift slowly away. Now more than ever, he  wanted  to  ask  for
permission to land—not only to help out with things  on  the  surface  of  the
planet, but also, and more importantly, so that he could be with Jaina.
     As soon as Tahiri was strapped  safely  onto  a  repulsor  gurney,  Goure
joined the rescue effort. Han raised an eyebrow at the sight of the  Ryn,  but
was too grateful for the extra set of hands  to  question  his  presence.  Two
people had been caught  under  the  rubble  and,  with  the  help  of  hastily
improvised repulsorsleds, their rescue was only slowly unfolding.  Jaina  lent
her efforts where she could—using the Force to search the rubble pile for weak
points, applying pressure where those  on  the  outside  couldn't  reach,  and
shoring up the healing  energies  of  the  victims  who  couldn't  be  treated
immediately—but it  didn't  feel  enough.  In  the  first  minutes  after  the
explosion, as panic  prompted  a  mass  evacuation  of  the  area,  chaos  and
confusion kept emergency services at a distance. The few who did get  through,
some of them dropping down from aircars with medpacs on  their  backs,  worked
harder than they probably had in their entire lives.
     Beneath a foreboding sky, darkened further  by  a  thick  pall  of  smoke
hanging over the stadium, the P'w'eck bodyguards  had  tightened  their  ranks
around the Keera-mak. The multicolored Ssi-ruuvi mutant watched  on  from  the
safety of this vantage point, its expression unreadable  as  it  surveyed  the
carnage.
     Jaina had barely had the chance to do more than hug her mother and father
in relief at seeing them again. It was only later, when medical reinforcements
arrived, that she had time to actually step back and take a proper look at the
world around her. Everyone was covered in  dust  and  splattered  with  blood;
where the two met, they made a dirty red paste. The survivors  had  a  shocked
look in their eyes, even those who helped in the rescue. Senators and security
guards were suddenly on the same level, united by the  terrible  tragedy  that
had taken place around them. No one paid any mind to the thunderstorm that was
brewing overhead; it  seemed  almost  irrelevant  in  the  face  of  what  had
happened.
     But there was something else that wasn't as easy to ignore—a  sound  that
nagged at her from below the rumbling of the  crowd.  It  was  a  strange  and
haunting wail, an ululation that seemed in search of a  note  of  despair  but
couldn't quite find it.
     Her father looked up, frowning. "You hear that,  Leia?"  Leia  turned  in
disbelief. "They've started again!" Jaina followed her gaze to  the  heart  of
the stadium. Sure enough, the ceremony had recommenced. She  could  see  lithe
reptilian aliens dancing in a circle, and one multicolored shape prowling  the
center, uttering noises that sounded like the angry song of some mighty bird.
     "What is this? "she asked.
     "They're going to finish the job," Han said,  the  stubble  on  his  chin
flecked with dust. "You've got to admire their persistence, don't you?" Admire
them? Jaina thought. Hardly. If anything, it was incredibly insensitive.  Even
over the sound of rubble shifting and the moans of those in pain, the  strange
sounds coming from the P'w'eck set her teeth on edge.
     "I don't understand," she said. "Why would the Keera-mak  finish  it  now
when it would obviously be safer later?" "They're aliens," a  nearby  meditech
said. "Who's to say what goes on  in  their  heads?"  "Threepio,"  Leia  said,
"translate for me, will you?" The protocol droid stood up from where he'd been
lifting chunks of rock and placing them into a hamper. He tilted his  head  to
listen properly to the growing cacophony.
     " The gulfs of space are not home to us,' " he translated, " 'and neither
are the barren worlds. The worlds of fire and the worlds of ice are  not  home
to us. Where oxygen burns and  water  flows,  where  carbon  bonds  and  ozone
protects—there we plant our roots. The seed of our species is fertile; all  we
require is the soil in which to plant it.' "  "More  of  the  same,  in  other
words," Han said. "But I still don't  understand  their  urgency  to  get  the
ceremony finished with all this chaos  around  them!"  Jaina  remembered  what
Harris had said earlier about the similarities between the  Ssi-ruuk  and  the
Yuuzhan Vong. The warriors of the Yuuzhan Vong wouldn't  consider  going  into
battle without making appropriate sacrifices to Yun-Yammka.  The  Ssi-ruuk  in
turn were loath to risk their souls on a world that hadn't  been  consecrated.
Perhaps the sudden carnage around them made them  want  to  get  the  ceremony
finished as quickly as possible, just in case more attacks were to follow.
     She found it hard to understand the logic that drove  such  notions.  The
Force didn't demand sacrifice, nor favor one location over another. It  simply
was, in and surrounding all things.
     Jaina's thoughts came back to Malinza's words on the swinging  of  cosmic
scales. She had to bring her parents up to speed on what had happened  to  the
young activist, and she also wanted to ask Goure where he fit into everything.
There were other, more pressing matters to consider, too—not the least of them
being what the Bakuran government would do once  things  settled  down.  Would
they put Malinza Thanas back behind bars? Or Jaina herself for  having  helped
the girl  escape?  Without  objective  witnesses  to  Harris's  treachery,  an
investigation could drag on for ages. And then there was Tahiri...
     Good works lead to evil results.
     Tahiri's brainwashing at the hands of  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  shaper  Mezhan
Kwaad had been a terrible thing, but her  rescue  and  apparent  recovery  had
balanced that out. Anakin's growing love for her had been canceled out by  his
death. Where did that leave her  now?  The  reemergence  of  the  Riina  Kwaad
personality was only going to make things worse, surely. If there was  balance
in the galaxy, when was it going to swing again in Tahiri's favor?
     Jaina's thoughts were distracted when the sound of engines whining joined
the chanting. It was growing steadily louder. Jaina looked  around,  then  up.
Emerging smoothly from the clouds were three  D'kee-dass  P'w'eck  troopships.
Bulbous around the middle and tapering to a fine  point  at  the  stern,  they
slowly descended toward the stadium. The huge canopy flag ripped  beneath  the
landing struts of one of the ships. Its tattered remnants flapped  chaotically
in the wind.
     "Reinforcements?" Han asked of no one in particular. Some of the  stadium
crowd had defied security after the explosion  and  spilled  into  the  center
space, waving placards angrily. Jaina wondered if  they  thought  the  P'w'eck
were behind the crisis. The P'w'eck, armed with paddle beamers, were more than
capable of keeping the crowd back, but they must  have  been  aware  that  the
crowd could easily grow larger and more hostile if provoked.
     "A quick getaway, perhaps," Jaina suggested. "They might be  keen  enough
to consecrate in the middle of all this, but I doubt that they'd want to stick
around afterward." "You could be right, honey," her  father  said.  Jaina  was
struck by conflicting impressions of him: how old he was getting, and how much
more alive he looked when the going got  tough.  He  might  sweat  and  fidget
through diplomatic negotiations, but when things took a turn for the physical,
he was often the first into the fray.
     The alien vessels rotated in midair when they were over the  stadium  and
descended at a safe distance from the ring of P'w'eck  guards.  The  sound  of
engines had risen to an almost painful level, and the Bakurans  below  quickly
scattered, shaking fists into the air as they ran. The noise drowned  out  any
protest they made. D'kee-class ships were small as far as spacecraft went, but
still four stories high from base to tip.
     "Excuse me, Mistress," C-3PO said.
     "Look," Han said, shouting over the growing din. "Three more!" She shaded
her eyes and  looked  where  he  was  pointing.  Another  trio  of  ships  was
descending beyond the stadium walls, the same type of troopship as those  that
had just landed.
     "What are they doing?" Leia asked.  Jaina  recognized  the  edge  to  her
mother's tone. She, too, was starting to have misgivings about all this.
     "If I might interrupt, Mistress," 3PO tried again, gesticulating  off  to
one side. He was desperately trying to make himself heard, but the racket  was
smothering most of what he was saying.
     Suddenly the engines from all three of the ships in the stadium below cut
out, allowing a relative quiet to settle around the  area.  The  chanting  had
ceased also, and the Keeramak was now standing in the middle of  his  enormous
entourage, glinting as though wearing rainbow-tinted armor. The  guards  stood
with their tails flat to the ground, paddle beamers held at the  ready  across
their chests.
     For a moment, everything was still. Then, with one eye on what was taking
place with the P'w'eck, Jaina leaned toward C-3PO and muttered, "What was that
you just said, Threepio?" "The ceremony is  complete,  Mistress,"  the  golden
droid said.
     "Thanks, Goldenrod," Han said. "But that seems pretty obvious from  where
I'm standing." "But, sir, I've  been  trying  to  explain  that  the  ceremony
required the Keeramak to give Bakura a new name — Xwhee." Leia faced him fully
now. "Did he happen to mention this fact to the Bakurans before he did it?" "I
doubt that very much, Mistress," C-3PO said. "You see, the Keeramak  has  also
dedicated Xwhee to the Ssi-ruuvi Imperium." Han and Jaina also turned to  look
at C-3PO now. As if in response to  the  droid's  words,  a  peal  of  thunder
rumbled from the tropical sky. Fat  raindrops  began  to  splatter  his  metal
cranium, turning what dust was there to a reddish mud.
     "Threepio, are you sure about this?" Leia asked.
     "Oh, quite certain. In fact, it was stated several times and in different
ways: as the 'glorious Ssi-ruuvi Imperium,' the 'majestic Ssi-ruuvi Imperium,'
the 'boundless and incomparable Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium'—"  Han  turned  to  Leia,
speaking over the top of C-3PO. "Couldn't this just be part of  the  ceremony?
Something carried over from the old ways? I mean, we still talk about the  New
Republic instead of the Galactic Alliance. Maybe their new Ssi-ruuvi  Imperium
has nothing at all to do with the old one." "I don't  think  so,"  Leia  said.
"Look at the ships." Rain began to fall in great sheets across the stadium  as
the sides of the troopships opened,  issuing  ramps.  Jaina  squinted  to  see
through the rain, trying to make out what lay inside.
     Dull brown paint was falling away in the rain, revealing  golden  scales,
the sign of the Ssi-ruuvi priest caste. Relieved of the need for  concealment,
the priests' postures straightened,  shrugging  off  the  hunch  of  years  of
supposed  servility  and  adopting  the  cold,  straight-backed  pride   Jaina
remembered from holos.
     Realization struck her like a physical blow. Of course!
     The treaty with the P'w'eck was a smokescreen for the real  tactic:  once
Bakura belonged to the Ssi-ruuk, once it was consecrated, they  could  advance
on it in force!
     "This can't be good," Han said  as  columns  of  russet-scaled  Ssi-ruuvi
warriors began marching out of the nearest troopship.
     Jag's  frustration  immediately  increased  when,  at  the  peak  of  the
consecration ceremony, the feed from  the  ground  dissolved  in  a  burst  of
static.  All  transmissions  from  the  planet  ceased,  sending  white  noise
blistering through his ears. He quickly checked his comm and ascertained  that
the problem wasn't onboard. It lay outside his clawcraft.
     "Selonia, I seem to have a communications outage. Anything coming through
from  your  end?"  "Negative,  Twin  One,"  came  the  reply,  distorted   but
comprehensible. "We've lost our uplink, too. Hold on while we look  into  it."
Jag waited anxiously with only the persistent static to listen to. Then,  amid
the crackly hissing, he heard another noise. It was like a wailing, constantly
fading in and out. It was unsettling—both haunting and hypnotic  at  the  same
time...
     "I have launches!" The voice of one of his pilots jolted him out  of  his
reverie. A quick glance at his board confirmed the report: the nearest of  the
two P'w'eck carriers, Errinung'ka, was disgorging dozens  of  smaller  vessels
into the space around it. His computer instantly  recognized  and  marked  the
familiar droid fighters, but that proved to be only half the complement of the
new ships. The rest were of a type never before seen outside  the  borders  of
the Ssi-ruuk Im-perium. They were V'sett-class fighters,  and  if  his  memory
served him well they possessed twice the firepower of ordinary droid fighters,
as well as a superior maneuverability. Most importantly, though, they  carried
flesh-and-blood pilots.
     It took him only a moment to figure out what was going on. The  P'w'eck's
offer of peace had been completely bogus; the consecration of the  planet  had
been nothing more than a means to clear the way  for  an  invasion  force!  It
didn't take a genius to know that things were about to get  very  nasty,  very
quickly.
     "Twin Suns, full alert. Selonia, are you registering this?" "We  have  it
on our scopes now. Trying to raise General  Panib...  Communications  are  out
down there, too." The transmission dissolved  into  static  again.  The  voice
returned briefly with "... be jammed somehow. Be on..."  The  signal  vanished
beneath a howl of rising interference. Jag turned down the  gain.  What  next?
They had enemy ships pouring onto the scan and, as yet, no response  from  the
local forces. Between himself and the enemy were the mixed flights  comprising
the Bakuran/ P'w'eck "honor guard," now numbering in excess of two hundred. It
seemed from the way they were still  flying  in  formation  that  they  hadn't
received orders to engage or break away.  This  surprised  Jag.  Even  if  the
messages were being jammed, surely one of the Bakuran honor guard pilots would
have realized by now what was going on. And yet, there they all  were,  flying
in perfect formation, completely unaffected by what was happening around them.
     Clicking his wingmates, he brought his clawcraft around to match  vectors
with the nearest trio of honor guard  fighters.  Two  droid  ships  flanked  a
Bakuran Y-wing in perfect synchrony, shadowing its  every  move  as  it  swept
around the planet.
     He scanned the formation for energy emissions and  soon  discovered  that
"shadowing" was as far from the truth as it could get. The two droid ships had
powerful tractor beams locked on the Y-wing and were forcing it  to  go  where
they wanted it.
     He plotted its course. In two orbits, it would intersect with the carrier
Firrinree. A cold chill ran through him. The droid ships were  kidnapping  the
pilot!
     A quick scan confirmed that the same was true  of  all  the  other  honor
guard flights. Powerless to resist the  P'w'eck  tractor  beams,  the  Bakuran
pilots were helpless in the trap sprung on  them—and  half  of  the  Bakuran's
Defense Fleet was about to be taken down with them.
     There was no way he could warn Twin  Suns,  Selonia,  or  General  Panib.
However, he wasn't about to sit back and let those pilots be reeled in  to  be
enteched. He could only hope that others  would  understand  his  actions  and
follow his lead.
     Arming his forward batteries,  he  thrust  hard  to  cut  off  the  droid
fighters. A burst from his blaster cannon  skittered  off  shields  that  were
tougher than he'd expected. It weakened them slightly, but there was certainly
no penetration. As soon as he'd swept past, one of them  broke  away  to  give
chase. The first of his wingmates, Twin Six, met it with a hail  of  laserfire
that forced it to change course. It ducked away, although not before sending a
spray of energy at Twin Three as it did.
     The second droid ship and its unwilling charge were making  a  break  for
it, abandoning all pretense of cooperation and  changing  course.  Instead  of
arcing gradually around the planet, the pair headed directly for Firrinree.  A
quick glance at his scopes confirmed that the others were doing the same.  The
masquerade was over; there was no longer any mistaking  the  honor  guard  for
what it was.
     Jag lined up behind the fleeing droid fighter and sent a volley of lasers
through its weakened  shields,  quickly  reducing  it  into  space  dust.  The
liberated Y-wing instantly changed course, wiggling on its long axis  in  what
Jag took as a gesture of thanks.
     Twin Two dispatched the other droid fighter  and  swooped  back  to  join
formation. The Y-wing followed, emitting a series of clicks. Jag  didn't  need
any more encouragement than that. Leading a diamond-shaped formation of  mixed
vessels, he targeted the next "honor guard" trio and closed in.
     By then, his tactical scopes were full of new targets. The alien carriers
had emptied their launching bays, and hundreds of fully fueled  fighters  were
jockeying to protect the inbound captives. A rash of  launches  from  Sentinel
and Defender indicated that the Bakuran Defense Fleet had finally  caught  on.
The sky around Bakura was soon boiling as the  two  forces  clashed  over  the
"honor guard" ships, one half fighting to save  them,  the  other  half  doing
everything in their power to repel the rescue attempt.
     Jag flew as he hadn't flown in a long time. It felt good to  be  fighting
an enemy who used a technology he was familiar with—even if that enemy  easily
outnumbered him and his squadron. In a strange way, it felt like he  was  back
at the academy sitting through a simulation, riding out  old  melees  with  an
instructor on his case. He was pleased that time  away  fighting  the  Yuuzhan
Vong hadn't eroded the reflexes he'd honed as a child.
     The manned V'sett  fighters  were  tough  kills,  though.  Flattened  and
slightly curved versions of the droid fighters the Ssi-ruuk usually sent  into
battle, these were equipped with shield generators and sensor arrays at  every
corner. Their engines flashed an eye-piercing violet  when  powering  at  max;
their weapons burned a brilliant white. Each pilot hid behind an  opaque  hull
and shields that turned mirror-bright every time a shot came too near.
     It was an earlier version of  those  shields,  Jag  had  learned  in  the
academy, that the Emperor Palpatine had coveted. Hence his attempt to  form  a
treaty with the Ssi-ruuk, just before the Rebels had beaten him at Endor.  Jag
dreaded to think what might have happened had the Emperor's dream  come  true.
If he'd had these shields back then, the Rebellion would have undoubtedly been
quashed and the outcome of the Battle of Endor would  have  been  considerably
different. Moreover, the Chiss, safe in the Unknown Regions,  might  not  have
been safe for much longer.
     But the Chiss had fought the Ssi-ruuvi fighters before  and,  even  after
years of technical improvements, they were capable  of  doing  so  again  now.
V'sett fighters, Jag soon discovered, were  vulnerable  to  multiple  attacks.
Converging in pairs from different angles was difficult to coordinate  without
the benefit of effective communications, but all the pilots read the situation
similarly and they managed to struggle through. With a  few  multiple  attacks
under their belts, it got steadily easier, and in no time  at  all  they  were
taking out V'sett fighters in sufficient quantities to make the Ssi-ruuk think
twice. Soon the dense and volatile orbits surrounding Bakura were  a  mass  of
energy, dangerous for pilots on both sides to navigate through.
     Seeing one of his squadron's X-wings  trying  to  shake  off  the  V'sett
fighter riding its tail, Jag set off in pursuit. He got a lock on the  fighter
as it dog-tailed after the X-wing, and he fired  when  he  thought  he  had  a
reasonable aim, but the fighter suddenly banked left after the X-wing and  the
shot went wide. Jag cursed under his breath as he brought the  clawcraft  back
onto the fighter's tail. Before he  could  line  up  another  shot,  two  more
fighters came at him from his port side, weapons blazing angrily  at  him.  He
sucked air through clenched teeth sharply and nosedived away from the incoming
fire. Seconds later, when he had chance to look again for the X-wing,  he  saw
it fall apart in a blaze of fire beneath the V'sett's blasters.
     The two fighters he had just eluded were quickly back on his  tail.  With
the rest of the squadron engaged in the battle elsewhere, he  knew  that  help
wouldn't be coming anytime soon. He was going to have to make his own luck...
     Han was backing up, looking for the nearest exit.  From  below  came  the
sound of screams as the crowd ran  in  a  panic  from  the  advancing  aliens.
Security guards opened fire on the  Ssi-ruuvi  warriors,  who  responded  with
blistering barrages from their paddle beamers. In leaps and bounds,  propelled
by powerful thigh and tail muscles, the Ssi-ruuk soon overwhelmed the  Bakuran
troops. The P'w'eck guards, who had originally  protected  the  Keeramak  from
attack, turned out to be genuine P'w'eck, unlike the disguised  priests;  they
protected their leader behind a tight huddle, beamers at the ready.
     "A tactical retreat might be called for," Jaina suggested to her parents.
"Now that Bakura has been consecrated, my guess is that these  guys  won't  be
afraid to fight anymore." "If we get to the Falcon,"  Leia  said,  her  Noghri
bodyguards closing in around her, watching the Ssi-ruuvi  warriors  balefully,
"we'll have a better chance of dealing with this." "Does  Selonia  know?"  Han
asked.
     Leia shook her head. "Jammed." Jaina thought of Jag and hoped he was  all
right. There was no telling what was happening in orbit. If  it  was  anything
like what was happening down here on the ground, then  it  was  going  to  get
messy fast. She wished she were behind the controls of her X-wing,  flying  at
his side, her only concern the enemy in her crosshairs. Things  were  a  whole
lot simpler in a dogfight.
     But wishing wasn't going to get her or her family  away  from  here.  She
needed to act—and quickly!
     She turned to find Goure standing at Tahiri's side.
     "We need a way out of here," she said.
     He looked up  at  her,  his  face  illuminated  sharply  by  a  flash  of
lightning. "The main exits are going to  be  blocked,"  he  shouted  over  the
thunder rolling from the sky.
     Jaina looked around again. The rain was thickening, making it  harder  to
see what was happening in the  bowl  of  the  stadium.  Paddle  beams  sizzled
through the air, weaving a dense  and  deadly  fabric  of  energy  below.  The
leading edge was coming rapidly closer.
     She nodded after a moment. "I think it's safe to assume that that's  what
the other three ships were for: to keep us from  getting  out."  "The  way  we
came, then." The Ryn pointed at the craterous hole in the stands. "It  has  to
be safer than staying out in the open." Jaina agreed, and together they  began
to gather up the confused rescue workers and spectators  still  milling  about
the area. She explained her intentions as best she could, asking them to trust
her as she sent them down into the hole. There was little resistance from  the
people; in the absence of any other plan, most were more than happy to  follow
her instructions. Once everyone was in, Han and Leia were  to  go  next,  then
wait for Goure to lower Tahiri into the hole on  her  gurney.  Jaina  and  the
Noghri guards would take up the rear to protect everyone's backs.
     "What about the Prime Minister?" one of the women asked as she went  past
Jaina.
     "What about him?" she shouted back over the rain. "He's dead!" "We  can't
leave his body here for the Fluties!" "But—" The protest died in  her  throat.
"Okay, okay, I'll see what I can do!" Leaving her  parents  to  supervise  the
evacuation, she looked around for the stretcher on which she'd last  seen  the
body. She found it tucked away behind an outcrop, covered in a  body  bag.  If
she could slave it to Tahiri's re-pulsor gurney, maybe they'd be able to  take
both of them out in tandem. The moment it got in her way,  she  told  herself,
then she would cut it loose. The living  had  to  take  priority  over  —  Her
thoughts stopped in midtrack as she went to move the stretcher. The  body  bag
caught on a twisted seat and pulled away, revealing it to be empty.
     Her puzzlement was short-lived. Someone  else  must  have  had  the  same
concerns and already taken the body to safety; one of the guards or  Senators,
perhaps, who had made a break for it without the others. She didn't care.  The
problem was no longer hers; that was all that mattered.
     She returned  to  the  crater,  where  the  last  of  the  survivors  was
disappearing into the hole. Glad that they would soon be making  a  move,  she
looked over her shoulder at the battle taking place in the  arena  below.  The
rain was heavier than ever, but she could still make  out  figures  moving  in
groups across the stadium bowl.  The  blasterfire  was  becoming  increasingly
sporadic as  Bakuran  resistance  failed  before  the  Ssi-ruuvi  advance.  It
wouldn't be long now before the stadium belonged to the Ssi-ruuk. Soon  after,
she assumed with a shudder, the captives would be rounded up and taken to  the
carriers in orbit for entechment...
     She turned when a hand touched her shoulder.
     "Come on, Jaina," her father said. "There's nothing more we can do here."
Although it galled her to leave the battle, the odds were so overwhelming that
she knew she didn't really have a choice.
     Before she climbed back down into the hole, she cast her eyes up  at  the
cloud-packed sky.
     May the Force be with you, Jag, she thought. Wherever you are.
     Catching sight of the nearer  of  Bakura's  two  moons,  Jag  pulled  his
clawcraft up and away, aiming with full throttle toward it. He didn't need  to
look back to know the fighters were following; the  space  ahead  of  him  was
puffing with bright explosions from their misfired shots.
     He brought the clawcraft in steeply to the northernmost part of the moon,
hoping to find some form of cover that might help him evade his pursuers.  The
closer he drew, the less likely this seemed. He brought his ship  around  from
its almost perpendicular descent, speeding off across the surface of the moon.
The ground was smooth and rolling, and looked to Jag to be made of an  immense
lava flow that had long since cooled. But it offered him no place to  hide—and
right now, that was all that mattered.
     He jinked and swerved continuously in  a  bid  to  avoid  both  fire  and
tractor beams, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up indefinitely.  He
cursed himself again; this little maneuver of his  had  put  him  in  a  worse
situation than he'd been in before!
     Without warning, the surface of the moon dipped sharply ahead of him, and
the smooth ground he'd been  following  became  a  motionless  waterfall  that
poured into a huge canyon easily fifty kilometers wide and at least  a  couple
deep. Crags appeared out of the shadows, along with large rocky outcrops  that
jutted from the walls of the canyon like crimson fists.  The  V'sett  fighters
followed effortlessly, no longer trying to shoot him out of the sky. They were
obviously intent on capturing him now. They must have realized that eventually
they would get him; they just had to be patient.
     He brought the clawcraft down, getting in as close  as  possible  to  the
floor of the canyon, swerving frantically to avoid mineral deposits protruding
from the canyon floor. Ten meters wide and at least  three  times  that  high,
they looked like enormous petrified trees. And there were plenty of them, too,
forcing Jag to bring all his flying experience to bear just to  avoid  hitting
any. It was only when he inadvertently collected one with  a  shield  that  he
realized it didn't matter whether he avoided them or not: the "tree" dissolved
into a powder that silently washed over his viewport.  After  this  he  didn't
even bother trying to fly his way between these  bizarre-looking  protrusions;
he just flew in a straight line, bringing  down  whatever  was  in  his  path.
Hopefully, he thought, the  resulting  dust  would  be  enough  to  blind  his
pursuers — even if it afforded him only a moment or two, at least it would  be
something.
     The canyon suddenly narrowed, though, and he knew he would have to  climb
out sooner rather than later, or wind up smashing straight  into  a  wall.  He
brought his ship up, aiming for a rocky outcrop on the uppermost ridge of  the
canyon wall. Two bony fingers of rock stabbed out into the sky, as if pointing
to the battle taking place overhead. If he could make it back up to  the  main
battle, he might just be able to get help from the others in the  squadron  to
get these fighters off his tail...
     Realizing his intentions, the fighters opened fire again.  Rock  exploded
from the canyon wall nearby; debris rattled  against  his  shields.  He  aimed
between the fingers of rock, but miscalculated  the  space  between  them  and
clipped one on the way through. He called out in alarm as the ship rolled  out
of control out into the space above the moon.
     He emerged from the spin battered and barely in control. The two  V'setts
on his tail negotiated the hail of debris  and  kept  coming.  He  jerked  his
clawcraft from side to side in a desperate attempt  to  avoid  their  grasping
tractor beams, but his collision with the rocks had allowed them  to  gain  on
him. It would only be a matter of seconds now before — A white  blur  streaked
up past his viewport. His sensors barely had time to register the Y-wing as it
flew within meters of him, torpedo ports firing. The  enemy  Ssi-ruuvi  pilots
didn't have time to deactivate their tractor beams before they sucked  in  the
proton torpedoes. One instantly exploded; the second took a hit that  sent  it
spi-raling wildly back to the surface of the moon,  where  it  flowered  in  a
brief and silent explosion.
     Jag's rear scopes were clear again, but his little jaunt to Bakura's moon
hadn't come without a price. His damaged thruster complained  with  a  stutter
and a whine as he pulled hard around. The Y-wing swooped back to match vectors
with him. The pilot—the same one Jag and his  wingmates  had  rescued  at  the
beginning of the battle—waved through her canopy. The gesture had  little  joy
in it, though, and a quick scan told him why.
     The Bakuran Defense Fleet was in bad shape.  Sentinel  had  been  hit  by
heavy bombing and its shields were down. Defender  was  standing  defiant  but
without enough fighters to have any real effect on the battle.  The  Ssi-ruuvi
forces rapidly mopped up any fighters it launched. Outnumbered  and  taken  by
surprise, Bakura lay open to attack.
     In complete  contrast,  the  two  giant  Sh'ner-class  planetary  assault
carriers  hung  shining  and  impregnable   above   the   battlefield.   Their
impenetrable shields had repelled  everything  thrown  at  them.  Clusters  of
captured ships of all shapes hung nearby, waiting to be processed. Denied  the
basic dignity of dying in battle, hundreds  of  pilots  trapped  in  durasteel
coffins had only entechment to look forward to.
     A triangular formation of seven  V'sett  fighters  accelerated  over  the
horizon of the small moon, coming up hard on Jag and the Y-wing. Jag urged his
clawcraft to go faster, but it had given him everything it could. Seven  fully
armed ships against his damaged craft  and  the  old  Y-wing  was  a  foregone
conclusion.
     The jamming ebbed long enough for him to check in on his squadron.
     "Twin Suns, report!" He juked to avoid a crippling energy blast.
     "Three here." "Four." "Six." "Eight." There was  a  slight  pause.  "Jag,
they've got me." "And me," Six said.
     "Looks like I'll have company, then," Three said. "They've got me,  too."
Jag cursed. Apart from himself, that left just one pilot  free—and  he  wasn't
sure how long he would last!
     He watched with dismay as the Y-wing tried to dodge the incoming vessels,
only to be jerked back in the clutches of seven combined  tractor  beams.  The
pilot went without a sound. Either her comm was down or she  was  sparing  him
her despair.
     Jag vowed then and there that he would not share a similar fate. He would
sooner blow his engines than allow his soul to be sucked out and squeezed into
a battle droid. But how could he do that when there was a chance  he  and  his
pilots could escape? While there was life, there was hope.
     Jag was so frustrated he wanted to scream to get it out of his system. He
almost didn't feel the tractor beams as they  wrapped  around  his  struggling
clawcraft and started to drag it back into captivity.
     Jaina watched from the rear of the column  of  survivors  as  they  moved
along the tunnels under the stadium  with  only  the  red  glow  of  emergency
lighting to guide them.
     Despite the ferrocrete around them, she could hear the  sound  of  paddle
beamers and screams from up above. Although her lightsaber was still  attached
to her belt, she kept one hand on the  weapon  at  all  times.  There  was  no
evidence of immediate trouble, but she  knew  that  pursuit  wouldn't  be  far
behind.
     The Ryn led the way, retracing their steps quickly  but  carefully,  with
Tahiri's gurney never more than an arm's length away. Water trickled ahead  of
them in snake-like streams, washing dust and debris down into  the  depths  of
the building and making the floor slippery and treacherous.
     "I don't think my circuits will stand another minute  in  this  humidity,
Mistress," C-3PO declared after slipping for the sixth time. The complaint was
directed to Princess Leia, but he'd made sure it was loud enough  for  all  to
hear.
     "Stop your complaining, Goldenrod." Han clapped the droid  on  the  back,
producing a metallic echo in the damp tunnel—as well  as  nearly  causing  the
droid to stumble again. "You've been through worse  than  this  and  survived.
Remember the incident with the stormtrooper uniform, last time we were  here?"
If 3PO could have shuddered, Jaina was sure he would have done so from the top
of his bronzed cranium to the base of his metal  soles.  "All  too  well,  I'm
afraid, sir," he said,  his  servomotors  whirring  with  each  step  and  his
photoreceptor eyes glowing sharply in the gloom. "Mine  is  not  the  kind  of
memory that allows me to forget easily."  Jaina  stopped  listening  when  she
heard a commotion ahead. Her lightsaber  was  out  and  ignited  before  she'd
barely taken two steps through the stream of survivors in front of her.
     "Princess Leia! Captain Solo! What are you doing here?" Jaina  knew  that
voice. "Malinza?" she said, pushing forward. People made way for the  buzzing,
glowing blade. "You should've left long ago." "The exit was blocked." The girl
was at the front of the small group, blaster held  down  at  her  side.  Vyram
stood between her and their captives—a sullen Salkeli and  a  defiant  Harris.
Both were bound and gagged. "There are Ssi-ruuk everywhere out  there!"  Jaina
turned to Goure. "Is there another way out of here?" "I'm not sure."  The  Ryn
sounded calm and unflus-tered, but  the  lashing  of  his  tail  betrayed  his
nervousness. "But be might know," he said, pointing at  Harris.  "We  followed
him in here." She indicated for Malinza to remove his gag. "Well?" "Well what?
" he said, eyes blazing with anger.
     "Is there another way out of here?" "Why should I tell you  anything?  To
help you?" He laughed lightly as he shook his head. "Don't imagine  that  I'll
be doing that in a hurry." "In case you hadn't heard, your plan went  horribly
wrong. The P'w'eck were just a smokescreen for  the  Ssi-ruuk.  You  may  have
killed the Prime Minister, but it didn't stop the consecration.  Once  it  was
completed, the invasion force moved in." Harris noticeably paled  in  the  dim
light of the tunnel. "Invasion?" He was at a loss for words, but not for long.
"If Cundertol is dead, Bakura will need a strong leader. You might not like my
methods, but I can get the job done. Set me free  and—"  "It's  too  late  for
that," Jaina said. "There's a good chance you might not survive the next hour,
let alone take the Prime Minister's  job."  "So  now  you're  in  charge?"  he
sneered. "Is that the way it works, Solo?" He turned to Malinza and the  other
survivors. "Don't you think it's convenient that the Galactic Alliance is here
just in time to save us from a crisis we never knew we had? At a time  when  —
"Save it, Harris," Jaina cut in.  "No  one's  listening  to  you.  There's  no
mistaking what we all saw out there. The Ssi-ruuk are  on  Bakuran  soil,  and
it's partly your fault they're here. You should have made  sure  of  your  new
allies before selling your soul to them." "It wasn't him who sold  his  soul,"
said a new voice from the shadows farther along the corridor.
     A tall figure stepped into the light. At  first  Jaina  didn't  recognize
him. His blond hair had been burned away; bruises and scorch  marks  blackened
his skin. He wore the remains  of  ceremonial  robes  around  him  like  rags,
concealing his hands.
     "The market  for  politicians,"  Prime  Minister  Cun-dertol  said,  "is,
perhaps unsurprisingly, quite small." "You?" Leia couldn't keep  the  surprise
out of her voice. "But you're—"  "Dead?"  The  big  man  smiled.  "Not  quite.
Luckily, the blast  only  stunned  me  for  a  time.  I  woke  up  down  here,
disoriented and lost. I heard footsteps and saw Malinza, but I didn't want  to
reveal myself until I knew what she was up to—and what exactly she  was  doing
with Blaine. I thought Freedom might have kidnapped him as  well  as  set  the
bomb. But I guess  I  was  wrong  about  you,  Malinza—and  for  that  I  must
apologize." The girl nodded a wary acceptance. "It was Harris," she said.  "He
set us up." "This is impossible," the accused man said. "That bomb was—I mean,
they said you were dead!" "Well, they were  mistaken."  Cundertol  pulled  his
right hand from beneath his robes to reveal a blaster. "As I was  mistaken  to
put my faith in you, Blaine. I  can't  believe  that  you're  responsible  for
everything that's happening to us today." Although the weapon pointed only  at
Harris, Jaina instinctively  tensed.  Her  lightsaber  rose  slightly.  Leia's
Noghri bodyguards also moved, hissing in warning  as  they  placed  themselves
between Cundertol and the Princess. Something about the Prime Minister  wasn't
quite right. Jaina could sense it, even if she couldn't define  it.  When  she
deep-probed him to see if he was a Yuuzhan Vong spy, she encountered a strange
texture. His presence was unlike any she'd felt before.
     As if her instincts,  and  those  of  her  mother's  bodyguards,  weren't
enough, she could feel Goure's unease radiating palpably  from  him.  He  knew
something, she was sure of it, but he couldn't  say  anything  with  Cundertol
there. She decided to keep her lightsaber activated  until  she  knew  exactly
what was going on.
     "You must forgive our surprise, Prime Minister," Leia said. "But the last
hour has been confusing, to say the least. You  may  have  gathered  that  the
P'w'eck peace plan was a sham for a Ssi-ruuvi attack—" He nodded, keeping  his
eyes on Harris. "The Fluties have obviously been planning this a long time.  I
don't suppose you have any idea how we can force them back?" Jaina  winced  at
the racist reference to the aliens. She'd heard it before, but on the lips  of
the Prime Minister it sounded especially crass and offensive.
     "No doubt the defense fleet and Selonia are working on  something  as  we
speak," Leia replied. "Unfortunately the comm channels are jammed,  and  there
are Ssi-ruuk right behind us. We need  to  get  out  of  here  as  quickly  as
possible. If we can get to  the  Falcon,  that  would  be  ideal."  The  Prime
Minister nodded. "A sensible plan," he said. "Blame, you were about to tell us
if you knew a way out of here, I believe, before I rudely  interrupted."  "And
I'll say to you what I said to  her,"  the  Deputy  Prime  Minister  answered,
inclining his head toward Jaina. "Why should I help? The way I see it, I  have
absolutely nothing to lose." He glared balefully at Cundertol as he raised his
arms up in front of him and rattled his binders.
     "You have your life to lose," Cundertol said simply.  "Would  you  prefer
entechment with the rest of us when the Fluties finally  catch  up?"  Harris's
glare intensified. "I can't help you, I'm afraid. You see, there is  no  exit.
They're all blocked. Our only hope is to hide in one of the equipment  lockers
until the Ssi-ruuk are gone, and then try to sneak out." "I'm not  really  one
for hiding," Cundertol said, with a regretful shake of his head.  The  blaster
in the Prime Minister's hand fired and Blaine Harris fell back onto the floor,
dead before he hit. "Sorry, my friend. But that was the wrong  answer."  Jaina
stood, stunned, as the blaster came around. Harris had  been  guilty  of  mass
murder, but she would never condone cold-blooded execution as punishment — and
had never expected it from someone like  Cundertol.  Salkeli  dropped  to  his
knees in supplication, obviously anticipating a similar  fate.  Jaina  stepped
forward to prevent another travesty of justice.
     However, Cundertol's interest lay not with the Rodian.  Instead,  in  one
smooth motion he pressed the blaster directly against Malinza's temple.
     "Now, seeing as there are no other options available..." Jaina froze.  If
she had thought she couldn't be more surprised than she already was,  she  was
quickly proven wrong when the Bakuran Prime Minister opened his mouth as  wide
as it would go and called out in the Ssi-ruuvi language. It consisted of  just
three notes, but they were so loud even the echoes hurt her ears. An answering
reply came almost immediately.
     Her worst fears realized, Jaina cursed  under  her  breath  for  allowing
herself to be caught like this. She took a  step  forward,  but  stopped  when
Cundertol pushed the blaster even harder against Malinza's temple.
     Cundertol grinned in triumph. He didn't have to move or say anything;  he
simply knew that Jaina wasn't about to risk Malinza's life. One squeeze of the
trigger and the girl would be dead.
     Jaina lowered the lightsaber and tried another tack. "Let  her  go."  The
mental command accompanying the words  would  have  made  an  ordinary  person
instantly obey.
     But the Prime Minister just shook his head. "I d6n't think so," he  said,
smiling.
     "What are you?" Jaina asked.
     The Prime Minister's smile widened, if that was possible.
     "New," he said. "But we haven't got time for that right now. We  need  to
go and meet your new masters." Rapid footfalls came down the corridors  behind
and ahead of them. Deep, fluting calls passed back and forth between  the  two
alien search parties  as  they  converged  on  the  m  maintenance  area.  The
survivors drew closer together, moving  instinctively  into  a  corner.  Jaina
planted herself protectively between them and  Cundertol,  her  eyes  on  both
corridor entrances. Behind her, she felt her father and mother, Goure, and two
security guards doing the same. If only they'd rushed  Cundertol  when  they'd
had the chance, she thought. If  only  —  She  fought  herself  to  stop  such
thoughts. They were nonproductive at best. There'd be time for regrets  later.
If there was a later, of course.
     "You knew about the Ssi-ruuk," Malinza hissed, held tight  in  his  grip.
Her voice was steeped in disgust. "You betrayed Bakura. You're no better  than
Harris!" "You're wrong on that score, I assure you," Cundertol said. "I am  in
every way better than Harris." There was no time for Jaina to wonder  what  he
meant. Six Ssi-ruuvi warriors burst out of the corridor to her  left,  running
with long, bounding strides and flicks of their mighty tails,  paddle  beamers
held before them in taloned hands. Their eyes and scales gleamed  red  in  the
emergency lighting. They came to a halt, hissing and screeching, at the  sight
of the fugitives before them.
     The leader directed  a  series  of  piercing  notes  at  Cun-dertol,  who
responded fluently in the same language.
     "Threepio?" Han prompted the droid from the corner of his mouth.
     "I believe it is a  standard  welcome,"  the  droid  said,  looking  from
Cundertol to the Ssi-ruu. The giant saurian indicated the body of  Harris  and
swished its tail. "Now it is reprimanding  the  Prime  Minister  that  he  has
wasted this one." The second  party  arrived  before  Cundertol  could  defend
himself. At its head was the largest Ssi-ruu Jaina had  yet  seen—a  beautiful
red female warrior with pronounced ridges running back  along  her  snout  and
across the top of her skull. She wore a  black  harness  adorned  with  silver
medals that jingled with each step she took, and her nostrils flared when  her
gaze fell upon Jaina and the others.
     Behind her came five more warriors of ordinary size,  protected  by  four
golden priest-caste Ssi-ruuk as well as  the  Keeramak  itself,  its  brighter
colors subdued in the dim light. The large party concluded  with  a  group  of
P'w'eck warriors that fanned out to cover the entrances.
     The Keeramak moved forward with muscular grace, its massive jaws snapping
as though at imaginary insects. Its gold-scaled  servants  eyed  the  Bakurans
warily, daring them to speak. No one did.
     A series of eerie, melodic notes then issued from  the  mutant  Ssi-ruu's
mouth.
     " 'Surrender now,' " C-3PO translated, " 'and I will  ensure  that,  once
enteched, you will be put to productive tasks.' " "We were told you no  longer
required entechment," Leia said, not attempting to hide the  disapproval  from
her voice. "I suppose that was just another  lie."  The  Keeramak  executed  a
graceful bow. "One  of  many,  Leia  Organa  Solo,"  it  replied  via  C-3PO's
translation. "The truth  is,  however,  that  we  have  indeed  perfected  the
entechment process. It is now possible to sustain  life  energy  indefinitely,
reducing the need for frequent replenishment. Some energies, such as your own,
are too strong to resist. You will  enrich  us  for  centuries!"  Leia's  lips
tightened. From under her robes, she produced her own lightsaber—something she
did only when all attempts at diplomacy had failed. It cast a red light across
the face of the Keeramak.
     "You  shall  never  have  my  life  energy,"  she  said   with   menacing
determination.
     "Or mine," Jaina said, adding  her  voice—along  with  her  blade—to  her
mother's vow.
     The Keeramak backed away, fluting as the guards closed in.
     "The Keeramak says, 'As you wish,' " C-3PO reported.
     "Don't be fools," Cundertol said. "Don't you understand what you're being
offered?" "All too clearly," Han growled.
     "You're hearing the words, but you're not understanding them!  Entechment
isn't what you think it is.  It's  not  the  end;  it's  the  beginning!  It's
liberation, not captivity!" "You don't really believe that," Leia said.
     Cundertol ignored her, addressing the others instead. "Imagine being  the
controller of your own droid ship, the heart of  an  interstellar  drive,  the
overseer of an entire city! Imagine the freedom you will achieve  when  you've
been cut loose from the shackles of flesh and blood. You'll be  able  to  live
forever!" "Freedom?" Jaina echoed. "We'll be slaves!" "Immortal  slaves!  What
are a few years of servitude in exchange  for  eternity?  They  will  pass  as
though mere moments!" Suddenly it became  all  too  clear  why  Cundertol  had
betrayed Bakura to the Ssi-ruuk.
     "Is that what they've promised you?" Leia asked. "Immortality?  You  sold
out your planet and people for a promise of longer  life?"  Cundertol's  smile
was wide and amused. "Actually, Princess, they didn't promise me  anything.  I
worked it out for myself. They didn't come to me seeking  a  bargain;  we  met
halfway. From there, it was just a matter of working out the  details."  Jaina
shook her head. "Surely you can't be that naive! If you think  it's  going  to
happen like—" "Not going to happen—it's already happened!  If  you  refuse  to
accept the truth of it, then I cannot help you. Your fate is already  sealed."
The Keeramak clicked its claws, and half the P'w'eck moved forward through the
ranks of Ssi-ruuvi guards. If there was going to  be  a  fight,  then  clearly
these were to be sacrificed first. Jaina felt sick to her stomach. As  bad  as
it was to be facing captivity and entechment, it felt worse to know  that  her
only hope of escaping would mean having to fight and possibly kill slaves.
     Lwothin, even more fidgety than usual, led the contingent. He  turned  to
the Keeramak and inclined his head in what Jaina  took  to  be  a  gesture  of
respect and subservience. The mighty Ssi-ruu uttered a deep,  powerful  warble
that she didn't require C-3PO  to  translate  for  her.  As  far  as  she  was
concerned, it could have meant only one thing: the Keeramak was  ordering  the
P'w'eck guards to subdue the prisoners.
     Lwothin nodded his long,  reptilian  head  and  raised  himself  to  full
height. Jaina tensed, her lightsaber igniting with a press of her thumb as she
braced herself for the assault. With a cry that both surprised  and  terrified
her in equal measures, Lwothin brought up his paddle beamer  and  fired  point
blank.
     The engines of Jag's clawcraft were running hot.  Despite  that,  it  was
still firmly tethered to the V'sett fighters that had captured him  and  being
drawn inexorably toward a  growing  knot  of  captured  Bakuran  and  Galactic
Alliance vessels. Comprised of more than one hundred fighters,  the  knot  was
being drawn through a narrow hole  in  the  shields  of  the  massive  carrier
Eninurfg'ka. Two Fw'Sen picket ships accompanied them,  making  certain  there
was no trouble. The vast, curving sweep of the carrier's bow loomed over  him,
making him and his fate seem powerfully insignificant.
     Clicks came over  the  comm  as  he  joined  the  formation  of  captured
fighters. Bound tight by powerful tractor beams, all he and his  squadronmates
could do was signal each other as they were dragged to their doom.  Nearby  he
could make out the pilot of the Y-wing in her cockpit,  hands  visibly  poised
over her controls, a grim expression on her face. Jag had no  doubt  from  the
look in her eyes as she stared through her cockpit canopy at him  that,  given
the opportunity, she would fight back—to the death if need be. Her  eyes  held
the same dark determination he felt in his heart.
     Not that such an opportunity would eventuate. Once they were on the other
side of those shields, that would be it. There would  be  no  hope  of  rescue
then.
     I'm sorry, Father, he thought, wishing there  was  some  way  that  Baron
Soontir Fel could hear him. And his mother. They'd had such hopes for him. All
his life he had struggled to prove himself worthy in  their  eyes.  The  slow-
maturing child of aliens in a fiercely competitive society, growing up in  the
shadow of Thrawn and his father's ambition. How could he ever  have  suspected
that he would meet such a fate as this?


     "This is Captain Mayn." The voice came clearly over the comm unit. "  I'm
addressing you on an open frequency. The jamming has been interrupted  to  let
me relay orders from the ground. All fighters must  stand  down  or  planetary
bombardment will begin immediately. They have paralysis weapons that can knock
out an entire city. Salis D'aar will be the first target.  Therefore,  in  the
best interest of innocent civilians, I am asking for all resistance to cease."
Jag listened to the words with growing amazement. Could this really  be  Todra
Mayn speaking? The thought of just  giving  in  to  the  Ssi-ruuk  turned  his
insides to water.
     "If we stand down now, Captain, then they're as good as dead anyway," Jag
said over the same frequency.
     "We have an assurance from the Ssi-ruuk that, once the  planet  is  under
Imperium control, we shall be treated fairly." Jag jerked the yoke of his ship
to fight the dreadful tug of the tractor beams. "Like the  P'w'eck  were,  you
mean? As breeding stock for droid fighters?" "Anything is better than  dying."
He could tell by the way his engines were shrieking that they weren't going to
last much longer at full throttle. If he was going to blow  them,  to  end  it
quickly rather than in the mental cage of a droid fighter, then he  was  going
to have to do it soon—while he still had engines to do it with!
     "You have to trust me, Jag." Captain Mayn's voice was thick with tension.
"They have Jaina." So? he wanted to yell back at her. Is one life  worth  more
than that of an entire planet?
     But he couldn't say it. His heart tore at the idea that  Jaina  might  be
hurt. With numb fingers, he throttled back and let the alien shield slip  over
his craft. The shield itself was invisible to all but his instruments, but  he
imagined it as the maw of some mighty  beast  waiting  to  swallow  him.  Once
ingested, fierce gastric juices would remove his soul and  dispense  with  his
useless carcass afterward...
     Then the barrier slammed shut behind them, and they were inside.  In  the
awkward stillness and silence, it felt like an  entirely  different  universe.
Outside, beyond the barrier, skirmishes lit up the starry backdrop as  pockets
of resistance still fought the Ssi-ruuvi invaders. The picket ships, once they
had delivered their  cargo,  returned  to  patrolling  the  area.  Inside  the
Errinung'ka's shield there was only stillness. Caught in the web cast by droid
and V'sett fighters, the captives  could  do  little  more  than  curse  their
misfortune. And wait.
     Everything suddenly stopped as the Keeramak, without a  single  noise  of
complaint, crumpled to the floor.
     There was a split second during which the Ssi-ruuk  were  so  stunned  by
Lwothin's actions that they did  nothing  at  all.  They  simply  stood  there
gawping at the Keeramak lying on the ground, oozing a gray, viscous fluid from
the paddle beamer wound in its chest. The P'w'eck were quick to take advantage
of the Ssi-ruuk's confusion, and other paddle beamers began to  flash  in  the
dimly lit tunnel. For a moment, Jaina was confused, too, but that didn't last.
It was obvious what was happening: Lwothin  and  the  P'w'eck  were  rebelling
against their Ssi-ruuvi masters!
     The Ssi-ruuk were better trained and better equipped  than  the  P'w'eck,
though, and they soon regained the advantage, fighting back  with  frightening
ferocity. Jaina had no doubt as to whose side she was on, and when a Ssi-ruuvi
warrior leveled his beamer at  Lwothin,  she  quickly  slashed  out  with  her
lightsaber and knocked the weapon from the creature's hand. It  swung  around,
attacking her with three raking claws,  and  she  barely  managed  to  duck  a
decapitating blow. The saurian was huge—but she had sparred with Saba Sebatyne
enough times to know the kind of things a tail could do in combat.  And  there
was still the Force, guiding her every move, tweaking her instincts.  Fighting
the Ssi-ruuk, thankfully, wasn't like fighting the Yuuzhan Vong,  whose  every
intention was hidden from view.
     She ducked and rolled, kicking up into the Ssi-ruu's midriff. It  whuffed
explosively and staggered backward, It used its  tail  to  keep  its  balance,
swiftly regaining its footing and lunging at her again. But she was out of the
way before it could strike out, rolling under its sweeping talons once  again.
She came around its side, two-handedly slicing across the creature's neck.  It
fell to the floor with a shriek, spraying blood.
     Another warrior howled and tried to skewer  her  with  a  shot  from  its
beamer. Her lightsaber was unable to deflect the beam  as  effectively  as  it
would a laser shot, but she did manage to bend it harmlessly into  a  wall.  A
P'w'eck leapt onto the warrior's back and brought it down.  Jaina  pulled  the
beamer from its grasp and threw it over to Vyram, who deftly snatched it  from
the air and aimed it at Cundertol's face.
     He fixed the Prime Minister with an unflinching stare. "I won't  hesitate
to pull this trigger if that blaster so  much  as  gives  Malinza  a  bruise."
Neither moved  as  the  fracas  around  them  came  to  a  surprisingly  quick
conclusion. The shock of their leader's death seemed to eat at the  Ssi-ruuk's
initial confidence. As the last of the surviving warriors allowed  herself  to
be subdued, the Prime Minister lowered his weapon to his side.
     "You ruined it," he said, looking emptily  down  at  the  Keeramak.  "You
ruined it for all of us!" "Yeah?" Han said,  looking  around  at  the  P'w'eck
collecting weapons and distributing  them  among  the  Baku-rans.  The  paddle
beamers were awkward to handle, but having something to fight with was  better
than nothing at all. "I don't see anyone else complaining." The advance leader
of the P'w'eck Emancipation Movement spoke urgently in his lyrical voice.
     "Lwothin  asks  that  you  contact  our  fighters   immediately,"   C-3PO
translated. "He says that the jamming has been interrupted  to  allow  you  to
speak." "What am I supposed to tell them?" Leia asked.
     Lwothin sang again. "Oh, my," 3PO said. "He wants you  to  tell  them  to
offer no resistance—to allow them to be captured!" Leia opened her mouth,  but
her husband spoke his mind first. "No one's giving any  such  order!"  Lwothin
explained his plan as best he could in the limited time. When he had finished,
Jaina watched Leia glance down at the body of the Keeramak, the  look  in  her
eyes suspicious and dubious.
     "How can I be sure that you're not asking me to send those fighters  into
a trap?" "You cannot," the P'w'eck sang in reply via C-3PO. "But  if  you  say
nothing then those pilots are as good as dead anyway. This is their only hope.
" The P'w'eck's eyes were luminous  behind  their  rapidly  flickering  triple
eyelids. "The time for lies and traps has passed. We stand before you  now  as
allies and equals. We will not betray you." Every  instinct  in  Jaina's  body
screamed out to believe him. For the first time, she felt as though  they  had
reached the heart of the conspiracies surrounding Bakura.  Leia  clearly  felt
the same. With a brisk nod, she activated her  comlink  and  called  Pride  of
Selonia.
     The conversation was brief and to the point. The next message Jaina heard
over the comlink was Captain Mayn's general  broadcast  to  all  the  Galactic
Alliance fighters.
     "This is Captain Mayn. I'm addressing you on an open frequency." When she
was finished, Jag's voice came back with: "If we stand down now, Captain, then
they're as good as dead anyway." At the sound of his voice,  something  inside
Jama suddenly relaxed. When Lwothin had described the fighting taking place in
orbit above Bakura, her first thought had been of Jag,  wondering  whether  he
had been among those killed. Or worse, captured for entechment.
     "I have an assurance from the Ssi-ruuk," Mayn went  on,  maintaining  the
pretense of surrender, "that, once the planet is under  Imperium  control,  we
shall be treated fairly." "Like the P'w'eck were, you mean? As breeding  stock
for droid fighters?" "Anything is better than dying." There was a high-pitched
groan over the open line as though of a fighter undergoing stresses it  hadn't
been designed for. Jaina waited for Jag's reply, but it didn't come. She could
feel his uncertainty and desperation as though he were standing next  to  her.
His concern for her burned like a small but intense star.
     Captain Mayn clearly sensed it, too.
     "You have to trust me, Jag," she said. "They have  Jaina."  The  lie  cut
Jaina deeply, but she knew immediately that it was the right thing to say.  If
anything could make Jag defy his deepest, most ingrained instincts, then  that
would be it. His concern for her ran deep—deeper than he had admitted aloud.
     He didn't reply, but she knew that he had capitulated.
     "I presume you know what you're doing, Princess," the  voice  of  Captain
Mayn added on a private channel.
     Leia adjusted the comlink to reply on that same channel. "I  do,  Todra."
She glanced at Lwothin with the threat of murder in her  eyes.  "Trust  me  on
this." Time seemed to have frozen. Caught in the web of the Ssi-ruuvi shields,
Jag vibrated with tension. He had no way of knowing what was happening on  the
ground or elsewhere in orbit. The jamming had returned not long after the  end
of Mayn's transmission. He felt isolated and powerless,  like  all  the  other
pilots trapped in their fighters around him, waiting for their captors to move
in and take them...
     Then  something  strange  happened.  His  sensors  registered  a   slight
lessening of the tractor beams holding him in place. Suspecting that  some  of
the Ssi-ruuvi escort may have dropped away now that they were safe within  the
shields, he checked his scope. Their escort hadn't moved.
     A second later, the tractor beam readings dropped again.  He  flexed  his
controls and found that his clawcraft had retained a measure of mobility.
     He sat for a moment, fighting the impulse to pull  loose.  What  was  the
point? If he did break free, what was he supposed to do?  The  shields  around
the carrier would stop him from escaping anyway,  so  it  seemed  a  pointless
exercise.
     But then there was yet another dip in the  readings,  and  this  time  he
couldn't help himself: he found his hopes rising. It  couldn't  just  be  him,
surely. The grip of the Ssi-ruuk on their captives was  slipping.  A  rush  of
excitement thrilled through him as he realized what must be going on.
     The P'w'eck droid ships that had accompanied the Bakuran fighters on  the
"honor guard" flights were slowly  redirecting  their  tractor  beams.  Having
delivered an undamaged attack force behind the shields of the enemy, they were
now seeing them free—gradually, so the Ssi-ruuk wouldn't notice.  The  P'w'eck
were rebelling against their masters—for real,  this  time—and  using  Bakuran
firepower as their weapon!
     Jag clicked three times in rapid succession to call  for  attention.  The
captured Twin Sun pilots clicked in immediately. There was  a  growing  rustle
over the comm indicating that others were noticing the  change  and  wondering
what was going on. He didn't have much time; he would have to act fast  before
the Ssi-ruuk noticed.
     When the tractor beams dropped once more, he clicked  twice,  then  twice
again. It  was  the  squadron's  code  for  "attack,"  and  the  response  was
instantaneous. Jag and his pilots pushed their ships from a standing start  to
full throttle at virtually the same instant.  Tearing  free  of  the  weakened
forces binding them, they roared out of formation and swooped around to attack
the unprepared Ssi-ruuk. The V'sett fighters were,  much  to  their  surprise,
caught in the droid ships'  tractor  beams,  reducing  their  maneuverability.
Within seconds, it was over. The Ssi-ruuk were destroyed and the tractor beams
holding the remainder of the captives fell away completely.
     The formation immediately dissolved into chaos.  Communications  cleared.
Jag opened his comm on all frequencies, hoping  to  regain  order  before  the
jamming returned.
     "Stay calm, people!" he ordered. "Maintain your original  formations!  Do
not fire on the droid ships! I repeat, do not fire on the droid ships. They're
piloted by the P'w'eck, remember, and they're on our side. They were the  ones
who got us here." "What's so good about  here?"  one  of  the  Bakuran  pilots
returned.
     "Here we have a target," Jag  replied,  turning  his  claw-craft  in  the
direction of the alien carrier. "We're inside the shields, and their squadrons
are outside. They can't call for reinforcements without opening themselves  up
for attack from Selonia or Sentinel." He grinned in anticipation of the battle
ahead; it was so obvious, now that he saw it. " They've  given  us  a  chance,
people, so let's not waste it!" The dramatic triple reversal of  the  P'w'eck—
from enemy to ally, then to enemy and now back to ally—left the Bakuran pilots
understandably confused, but they obeyed Jag's orders  and  left  the  P'w'eck
alone. Flights of threes and fives re-formed and swooped down from  the  inner
edge of the shields to attack the carrier. Jag gathered the remnants  of  Twin
Suns around him and did the same. The carrier bays weren't  completely  empty,
and a dozen V'sett fighters soon rose to meet them. Six droid fighters came in
close pursuit. Caught from behind, the Ssi-ruuk's defensive  charge  was  soon
scattered.
     "Go for the tractor beam generators," Jag instructed the pilots  swarming
around him, searching  for  targets.  "Then  make  strafing  runs  across  the
deflector-shield projectors. Try to keep structural damage to  a  minimum.  We
have friends in there, and I'd rather  not  lose  a  single  one  of  them  to
friendly fire." Then he  was  down  in  the  maelstrom,  finding  targets  and
launching laser bolts as fast as he could. He made a couple of passes  at  the
ion cannons that ringed the carrier's bulging waist  and  managed  to  destroy
three. Others from his squadron cleaned up the rest.
     The response from the carrier was sluggish, and he put that down  to  the
P'w'eck who were revolting both inside and outside the  ship.  But  he  wasn't
fool enough to believe that this advantage would  last  indefinitely.  At  750
meters long, the carrier would have been a  formidable  opponent  for  even  a
hundred fighters.
     Still, he thought, any amount of  damage  they  could  inflict  upon  the
carrier would be something. The more they could do here, he figured, the  less
work there'd be for Jaina later...
     Word of the breakout of the Galactic Alliance fighters came from  Selonia
within moments of the airwaves clearing. Jaina, however, had no time  to  hear
the details. A sudden blur of motion caught her attention. Thinking  that  one
of the Ssi-ruuvi captives had made a  break  for  it,  she  whirled  with  her
lightsaber at the ready, but instead all she saw was the back  of  the  former
Prime Minister sprinting off down the corridor. Vyram was lying on  his  back,
rubbing his right forearm.
     "I'm sorry," he said, clambering to her  feet.  "He  moved  so  quickly!"
Jaina didn't wait; she immediately set off after Cun-dertol. They couldn't let
him escape. If he got to a communicator, the plan would  be  exposed  and  Jag
could be captured for real. She followed the rapid pad-pad  of  his  footsteps
along the dusty corridors as he looped around the others and headed up  toward
the hole Harris's bomb had blown in the stadium.
     She soon realized what Vyram had meant about  the  Prime  Minister  being
quick. Cundertol's speed was impressive.
     The sound of his footsteps ahead veered  off  in  a  new  direction.  Two
corners and fifty meters later, she understood why. A squadron of P'w'eck  who
had overthrown their masters came down the tunnel  toward  her,  blocking  the
exit to the stadium. Cundertol hadn't wanted to  run  into  them,  so  he  had
ducked down an alternate tunnel, probably heading for the exit Malinza and the
others had tried before. Jaina didn't  hesitate;  she  turned  down  into  the
tunnel, too, startling the P'w'eck squadron as she ran past but  not  stopping
to explain herself.
     Jaina could hear Cundertol running down  stairs  two  floors  below.  His
footfalls were heavy and, incredibly, unflagging. The source of  his  strength
and endurance concerned her. Even she was beginning to  tire,  despite  having
the Force to augment her stamina.
     A door slammed somewhere up ahead of her, and she knew that Cundertol had
left the stairwell on the fifth basement level. She made herself  run  faster,
hurling herself forcibly at the door when she reached it. The door had  barely
begun to swing back when something struck out at her from the gloom on the far
side. She knocked it aside with a reflexive Force shove and  rolled  away.  As
she got to her feet and adopted a defensive stance, she had just  enough  time
to make out Cundertol at the far end of a  wide  corridor.  Something  whizzed
through the air toward her. She moved her head just as a small bolt ricocheted
off the wall behind her, leaving a deep dent. Her first thought  was  that  he
was using a slingshot, but his hands were clearly empty. She didn't have  time
to dwell on it, though, as another bolt whizzed by her head, so close that she
could feel it flick her hair.
     He's throwing them! she thought, incredulous.
     His strength might have been superior to his aim, but she wasn't about to
give him a chance to practice. She sent a Force push that would have thrown an
ordinary man off his feet. All it did  to  Cundertol,  though,  was  make  him
stagger backward. It wasn't much, but it was enough. She ran across  the  open
space before he recovered.
     He had no intention of sticking around to fight. Instead  he  disappeared
through yet another door with disconcerting  speed.  She  followed,  but  more
cautiously this time. What was he? Where was he getting his strength and speed
from? Whatever was going on, it was obvious she wasn't going  to  be  able  to
catch him with speed alone. She was going to have to try something else.
     His footsteps receded down another corridor, then abruptly stopped.
     Jaina hesitated at the corner, warily peering around it.
     The dark corridor seemed empty, but she knew he was down there somewhere.
     "You must know you're not going to get away with  this,  Cundertol,"  she
called, hoping to get at least an estimate of his position from a reply.
     "No?" he responded. His voice was muffled by something  other  than  just
distance. "And I suppose you're going to stop me, girl?" "That's my intention,
yes." She frowned, unable to place him.
     " I'm afraid that the best intentions can often count  for  nothing,"  he
said, suddenly dropping down behind her. "Not when survival is at stake."  She
spun around to strike out at him, but he knocked her  aside  as  if  she  were
nothing more than a rag doll. His speed and strength were far beyond those  of
an ordinary man. She shoved off the wall and came back at him with a strike to
the head, igniting her lightsaber with the other hand as she did  so.  He  was
under the blow before it could connect, punching up at her  and  knocking  her
off her feet. She flew five meters through the air, her lightsaber  inscribing
a wide, black arc on the floor as she fell-but she didn't let go of it.
     Cundertol didn't want to waste time with talk. The twisted expression  on
his face told her that he was concerned with only one thing: escape.  As  long
as she stood between him and that goal, she would have to be  eliminated.  She
back-flipped onto her feet before he could reach her and warned him away  with
a swing of her lightsaber.
     He feinted to her left, then came at her from her  right,  ducking  under
the blade and delivering a blow to her chest that felt as  though  she'd  been
hit by a force pike. She flew off her feet again and landed  on  her  backside
with a painful grunt. This time her grip on  her  lightsaber  failed  and  the
weapon went skittering across the floor. Before she could snatch it back  with
the Force, Cundertol had already stepped up to finish her off.
     "You put up a good fight," he said, looking threateningly over her.
     "It isn't over yet," she returned, summoning the lightsaber  back  toward
her.
     It shot through the air with a whine  and  a  hiss.  Hearing  it  coming,
Cundertol rolled  away  to  one  side,  but  not  before  the  sizzling  blade
connected. He fell back with a roar, clutching his injured arm. Jaina used the
moment to climb back onto her feet, albeit with some difficulty. Her legs were
weak from Cundertol's attack, and the  world  seemed  to  be  swaying  crazily
around her. Nevertheless, she  managed  to  hold  her  ground,  directing  her
thoughts once again out to the lightsaber. This time  it  flew  straight  back
into her hand.
     Cundertol, however, had already taken flight. She could see  him  at  the
end of the corridor, nursing his arm as he rounded a  corner  and  disappeared
from sight. She was about to give chase again, when the  sound  of  feet  came
clattering up behind her.
     "Jaina!" Her mother was beside her, arms  coming  around  her  shoulders.
"Are you all right?" She nodded. "Cundertol," she said, waving vaguely in  the
direction he had taken. "He went that way!" "Don't worry, kid. We'll get him."
Her father's silhouette led a  mixed  group  of  humans  and  P'w'eck  up  the
corridor after the former Prime Minister.
     "Be careful!" she yelled after them as her mother's hands guided her down
onto the floor, where the world was mercifully level. She crouched  there  for
what felt like forever, fighting nausea. Cundertol had  hit  her  harder  than
she'd suspected.
     "You'll be okay," her mother was saying. "It'll be all right." Jaina knew
that it wasn't. Her thoughts were confused, fragmentary. Something  about  her
fight with Cundertol bothered her. What was it? She had wounded him, she  knew
that much. She'd cut his arm — Then she saw it, lying in  the  shadows  a  few
meters away from her. She wriggled from her mother's grasp and  made  her  way
over to  it,  staring  at  the  thing  with  a  mixture  of  satisfaction  and
puzzlement.
     "What is it?" her mother asked from behind her. "His  arm,"  Jaina  said,
squinting at the limb. She hadn't just cut his arm, she'd  completely  severed
it below the elbow! "At least the lower part, anyway." But there was something
distinctly not right about it. Apart from a small smattering  and  some  minor
seepage about the stump, there was no blood to be seen anywhere.  Sometimes  a
lightsaber could cauterize veins as it cut and stop the bleeding, it was true,
but it wasn't just the blood that piqued her suspicions—it was the  smell.  It
stank of cooked synthflesh.
     "It's okay, Jaina," her mother said, coming up  beside  her.  "It's  over
now. They'll get him—especially if he's injured." Her  mother's  words  washed
over her as she realized uneasily what it was she'd been  fighting.  Cundertol
was a droid!
     "No, they won't," she said, staring numbly at the artificial  arm.  "Even
injured, he's going to get away." Before  she  could  explain,  a  barrage  of
fluting sounded from nearby.
     "Excuse me, Mistress," C-3PO said, "but Lwothin re-ports that Errinung'ka
has surrendered to the P'w'eck. Firrinree is expected to follow shortly." That
should make up for losing Watchkeeper and Intruder, at least, Jaina thought to
herself.
     "What about Jag?" she managed to ask her  mother.  "Has  there  been  any
word?" "There has," she said, nodding. "He's leading the attack  on  Firrinree
even as we speak." Her mother's voice was soothing.  Under  the  words,  Jaina
knew she was trying to say, It's not your problem; let it go.
     Maybe she was right, but Jaina doubted she'd be able to relax fully until
she knew for sure that Jag was nearby and they were both a long way  from  the
threat of entechment...


     	EPILOGUE

     Jacen stared at the result in  disbelief.  He  could  feel  the  combined
attention of everyone in the room as the data from Wyn's  search  through  the
library's records flowed down the holopad in front of him.  Listed  was  every
system that had gained a planet in the last sixty years. Saba  and  Danni  had
already examined most of them during their search of  CEDF's  files,  and  the
rest had turned out to be either ordinary planetary acquisitions  or  fleeting
encounters with the living planet. All told there  were  fifteen  acquisitions
and a further forty encounters. But  unfortunately—and  frustratingly—each  of
them could be ruled out.
     Jacen shook his head in dismay. "It's not here." "It  has  to  be  here,"
Mara said. "There's nowhere else it could  have  gone!"  "Unless  it's  hiding
somewhere in the rest of the galaxy," Luke said, wearily.
     "But we'd know about it if it was," Mara said.
     "Perhaps we just haven't looked hard enough. It might be in  one  of  the
smaller backwaters—like the Minos Cluster, for instance." "Or  maybe  it  left
the galaxy altogether." Danni's voice was heavy with  gloom.  "Or  perhaps  it
just died." "No," Jacen said. "It didn't die. We have holos of it  around  two
of the systems it visited, remember?" Jacen was finding it hard  to  keep  the
frustration from his voice.


     "And it can't have left the galaxy, either—not unless it knows  something
about hyperspace that we don't." "Or it's found a way to exist without a sun,"
Luke put in.
     Jacen shook his head. "I refuse to accept any  of  those  possibilities."
"Then what are you going to do?" Fel's was  the  voice  of  cold  reason.  "If
you've looked and you haven't found it,  and  you've  ruled  out  every  other
possibility, then where does that leave you? Perhaps Zonama  Sekot  really  is
nothing but a legend." "No," Jacen said firmly. "No,  I  can't  believe  that,
either. Vergere wouldn't have lied to me." "Can  you  be  absolutely  sure  of
that?" "Yes." Jacen met the  one-eyed  stare  of  the  assistant  syndic  with
stubborn determination. "Yes, I can. Zonama Sekot is real. All we have  to  do
is find it." He turned back to the hologram. "Somehow..." "Well, you now  have
the support of the Houses if you want to continue looking in Chiss space," Fel
said.
     Jacen felt exhausted. His uncle's hand came  to  rest  on  his  shoulder,
reassuring him. Saba and Mara brushed minds with his to offer  their  support,
too. He was grateful for the gestures, but he was unable to silence the  doubt
that Soontir Fel had given voice to. What if Vergere bad lied to him? What  if
Zonama Sekot was just a dream?
     From far away, almost a quarter rotation around  the  galaxy,  he  sensed
Jaina's  capitulation  to  exhaustion  at  the  completion  of  her  duty.  He
occasionally felt flashes of his twin sister, even from so far away.  It  felt
good, he thought, and wished he could do the same.  He'd  barely  slept  since
arriving on Csilla, and it was getting so  that  he  couldn't  think  straight
anymore. His body felt weak, hollow and fragile, and had it not been  for  the
Force propping him up, he was sure he would have collapsed into himself  hours
ago.
     But despite the aid of the Force, he knew he was going to  have  to  rest
eventually. Staring dully at the data—even if he did it  forever  and  a  day—
wasn't going to surrender any answers.
     "Right or wrong," he said, standing, "you're going to have to try to find
it without me for a while, I'm afraid. I need to rest." Without another  word,
he brushed past his aunt and left the room, ignoring the concerned  look  from
Commander Irolia as he walked deep into the aisles of the library.
     Danni came to him half an hour later. He had tucked himself in  a  corner
at the library's uppermost level. It  was  peaceful  there,  uncomplicated—the
perfect place to clear his head.
     "Hey." She eased herself next to him and leaned against  the  wall.  They
sat side by side in silence, their legs gently touching. He felt he should say
something, but he simply didn't know how to express what he was feeling.
     "You know," she said after a long  silence  he  barely  noticed,  "I  had
another thought." He half turned to her. "About  Zonama  Sekot?"  She  nodded.
"What if it broke apart? The stress of all that jumping must  have  taken  its
toll. Worlds are pretty fragile, after all. One slipup could have  cracked  it
wide open, and we  never  actually  looked  for  new  asteroid  belts."  Jacen
acknowledged her suggestion with a polite nod, but he didn't really credit it.
He couldn't afford to. Zonama Sekot was out there; it had to be! There had  to
be something lurking in the data that he'd overlooked-or something  he  hadn't
yet looked for...
     "Are you angry with me?" Danni said hesitantly.
     "Huh?" The question startled him from his thoughts. "Angry with you?  Why
would you think that?" She shrugged. "You don't seem to want to  talk  to  me,
that's all." "No, I'm not angry,  Danni.  I'm  just  tired.  I  haven't  slept
properly. I came up here to think things  through."  "Things?"  she  prompted.
"You mean Zonama Sekot kind of things?" He  nodded,  grinning.  "Zonama  Sekot
kind of things." "I've been thinking about things, too," she said. "Us kind of
things." "Really?" She nodded once, turning her gaze briefly on  to  the  vast
expanse of books spread out before them, as if searching for  the  words  that
might best convey her thoughts. "It's strange,  you  know.  I  can  crack  the
biological secrets of the Yuuzhan Vong; I can plot the likelihood of  a  solar
system capturing a new planet; but sometimes I can't even begin to guess  what
goes on inside your head, Jacen Solo." He took her hand. "Danni, I—" "No,  let
me finish. We've known each other for a few years, now—since the beginning  of
the war, when you rescued me from Helska Four. But it wasn't until that day on
Mester Reef that I saw you for who you are. Not as one of the Solos, or a Jedi
Knight, or Jaina's brother-cm!  as  you.  And  I  liked  what  I  saw."  Jacen
remembered that day well: the variety of life in and  around  the  coral;  the
green of Danni's eyes and the brownness of her skin; the promise in her smile.
..
     "You're strong," she said. "It may surprise you  to  know  that  I  think
you're the strongest person in the entire Galactic Alliance. You're  the  only
one with the courage to  question  what  everyone  else  regards  as  a  great
privilege. Most people would happily accept the honor of being a Jedi  Knight,
but you don't. You look beneath the honor and try to understand what it  means
to be a Jedi. That sort of strength can't be  taught,  Jacen;  it  comes  from
within.
     "And you're kind," she went on. "No, look at me," she said when he turned
away, beginning to feel awk-ward. "This is stuff you  need  to  hear.  In  the
middle of a war, it's hard sometimes to remember the good things.  People  are
rewarded  for  being  great  fighters,  but  rarely  for  exhibiting   gentler
strengths, such as  kindness  and  compassion—or  the  kind  of  loyalty  that
questions rather than accepts. Your sister gets all the medals while you  fade
into the background."  "The  medals  don't  interest  me,"  he  said.  "And  I
certainly don't begrudge Jaina getting them — "I know that," she  interrupted.
"You would never resent anyone for her success. That's just  another  of  your
strengths." She paused, smiling. "Shall I go on?" He shook his  head,  smiling
also. "I think I get the idea." "Jacen, I'm not saying this to embarrass  you—
or to prompt you into saying something similar in  return.  Don't  ever  think
that. I'm saying it because I think you need to hear it." "Why?"  "Because  to
you, success depends solely upon finding Zonama Sekot. I understand that,  and
I understand its importance in the greater scheme of  things.  But  there's  a
smaller scheme, too—one that I feel you've already succeeded in.  After  years
of crossing each other's paths like some wandering satellites, I'm  glad  that
I'm finally close enough to you to be able to say that you've grown into a man
I'd be proud to call a friend." Her gaze held his, its intensity matched  only
by the seriousness of what she was saying.
     She stopped there, with a gentle squeeze of his hand that told him it was
his turn to speak. He knew he had to say something in  return,  regardless  of
whether or not he felt comfortable doing so. He sensed that  she  was  talking
about more than friendship, and he wasn't sure how to define his  feelings  in
return. He vividly remembered the day he had rescued her from  Helska  4;  she
had seemed so beautiful to him, so much older and  more  mature,  and  utterly
unobtainable. He may have rescued her from the Yuuzhan Vong, but at the end of
that day, he had been just a boy and she was a woman. And he still  carried  a
measure of that impression with him. Although he was with her now, talking  as
equals, the young boy in him remained at a distance, unable  to  believe  that
anything else could be true.
     Like some wandering satellites...
     He was about to try to explain  his  feelings  to  her  when  her  phrase
returned to him. The words were niggling at his thoughts, demanding attention.
For some reason her use of the metaphor troubled him, but not because of  what
it meant to him. It made him think of the fruitless quest Vergere had sent him
on—although it wasn't immediately apparent why her simple  words  caused  this
reaction in him. Satellites? As far as he was aware, Zonama Sekot didn't  have
any satellites. In fact, he doubted it could have even kept one with  all  the
hyperspace jumps it had performed. Perhaps it had acquired one  since  —  Then
the answer struck him in one blinding flash. It was so obvious he  could  have
kicked himself!
     Consumed by the inspiration, he completely forgot about Danni  and  their
conversation. Afraid of losing any more time, of missing  an  opportunity,  he
abruptly stood up.
     "Jacen?" Danni said, her expression puzzled as her hand  fell  back  into
her lap. "What—" "I've got it!" The exclamation came out with a  laugh.  "Come
on, Danni. Let's go!" He hurried down the stairs, heading back to  the  ground
level and the massive pile of books they had sorted through.  He  was  vaguely
aware of Danni running behind him, calling out for him to stop and asking what
was wrong. But there simply wasn't enough time to stop and explain; she  would
have to hear what he had to say when he told the others.
     Everyone looked up when he ran to the table. Danni was only a few seconds
behind him, her look of confusion reflecting the expressions of the others.
     "We need to run another search," he said breathlessly as he stepped up to
Wyn.
     His uncle was the first to respond. "Another search?  But,  Jacen,  we've
already searched every planet in the—' "Not for planets,"  Jacen  interrupted.
"For moons." Luke crinkled his brow at this. "Why would we  do  that?"  "Think
about it," he said breathlessly. "If Zonama Sekot entered a  system  around  a
gas giant, it wouldn't show as a world, would it?  It'd  be  registered  as  a
satellite-just like Yavin Four. A habitable world in a habitable  zone—but  it
would be listed as a moon! Don't you see?  We  would  have  missed  it!"  "But
Jacen," Danni said from behind him, "the  tidal  forces  of  entering  such  a
configuration would be incredibly severe." He dismissed  her  protest  with  a
wave of his hand. "I'm sure Zonama Sekot could find a way around that—just  as
it always found a way to escape whenever it needed to.  It's  resourceful  and
determined." He faced his uncle, wanting the Jedi Master to  believe  him.  "I
know I'm right about this. We have to do the search." His uncle thought  about
it for a long moment, and then turned to Wyn. "Will it take  long?"  The  girl
looked nervous at being the sudden focus of such attention. "That  depends  on
how many possible targets there are." "There probably wouldn't be  too  many,"
Danni said. "System captures are scarce enough as it is, but  the  acquisition
of extra-solar world-sized moons by gas giants would be extremely rare. I'd be
amazed to find even one in the last hundred years. The odds of it happening in
a system's habitable zone are minute." "Could  Jacen  be  right,  then?"  Mara
asked.
     Danni studied Jacen  critically,  then  shrugged  and  smiled.  "I  guess
there's only one way to find out." Jacen sent a wave of warm gratitude in  her
direction.
     The look of rage on Shimrra's face was the  most  satis-fying  thing  Nom
Anor had ever seen. Even from a distance and viewed through  a  villip  beacon
concealed in Ngaaluh's robes, it thrilled him to the core of his black heart.
     "Tell me again," Shimrra said, in the tight, too-controlled  manner  that
presaged an explosion of anger, "how your incompetence led to  the  fugitives'
escape." "Yes, Dread Lord." Taking a deep breath, the commander  Hreven  Karsh
repeated almost word for word his explanation of how his warriors had  allowed
a small and relatively helpless party of Jedi and Imperials  to  slip  through
their fingers in the Unknown Regions. Nom Anor was coming into the story late,
but it appeared as  though  this  party,  led  by  the  Skywalkers,  had  been
instrumental in foiling an operation that should have taken  the  insular  but
fiercely militaristic nation known as the Imperial Remnant out of the  picture
altogether. From there, they had moved into the Unknown Regions.  Karsh,  sent
by the leader of the attack on the Imperial Remnant, had tracked  the  mission
from a distance but lost  them  on  the  edge  of  Chiss  space.  The  present
whereabouts of the Skywalkers remained,  much  to  Karsh's  embarrassment  and
chagrin, unknown.
     Hreven Karsh was an inexperienced commander. His  relative,  Komm  Karsh,
had died trying to obtain information from the abominable libraries on  Obroa-
skai, and he had slipped into the  empty  shoes  with  ambitious  relish.  His
ritual modifications—vonduun crab armor plates inserted  under  his  skin  and
coaxed to grow and overlap at  odd  angles  so  that  his  skin  took  on  the
appearance of a buckled, jagged crust—had been conducted in haste. The wounds,
in fact, were still weeping. But the discomfort they  would  have  caused  was
nothing compared to the indignity he must have felt at having  to  detail  his
failure to the Supreme Overlord—nor to the punishment  that  would  inevitably
follow.
     "We are presently combing the fringes of the Chiss empire for any sign of
the fugitives and—" " 'Combing'?" the Supreme Overlord interrupted, descending
with menace from his spiny, bloodred  throne  of  yorik  coral.  His  scarred,
slashed, tattooed face twisted into a sneer. The mqaaq'it implants in his  eye
sockets burned with an all-too-familiar glare. "Did you say 'combing'?"  Karsh
swallowed uneasily as the Supreme Overlord approached with careful, calculated
steps. "I did, Great One." There was no  mistaking  it  for  anything  but  an
apology.
     "What are you, Karsh? The handmaiden of some infidel  princess?"  Shimrra
snarled out his words barely centimeters from the commander's face. "My  Lord,
no! I only meant—" "We are the Yuuzhan Vong, Karsh. We do not comb.  We  take.
This galaxy and everything in it belongs to us — including the worlds  in  the
Unknown Regions! You will remind the Chiss of that fact. If they are harboring
the fugitives you seek, then you will not let their borders  hinder  you.  Nor
will you pander to their delusions of grandeur. You will  put  them  in  their
place—and you shall do so by taking what is rightfully ours,  not  by  combing
delicately through that which the Chiss mistakenly believe to be their own. Do
I make myself clear?" "Yes, Supreme One!" Karsh stiffened  in  resolve.  "las-
sure you that the Jeedai will be found. I swear it on my domain's  name."  His
tone had lost its frightened edge. He sounded more relieved that the  audience
with Shimrra seemed to be drawing to a close. If he was lucky,  he  might  yet
walk away from this meeting  unscathed.  With  the  luxury  of  distance  from
Shimrra's wrath, Nom Anor knew better.  By  sending  Karsh  into  the  Unknown
Regions, Shimrra had effectively sacrificed the commander  in  a  gambit  that
would do nothing more than antagonize another enemy.
     "Excellent, Karsh. Excellent." Returning to his throne, Shimrra  sat  and
faced the commander one more time. "Now, come to me and give  me  your  hand."
Karsh did so, climbing the  steps  nervously  to  Shimrra  and  extending  one
scarred, clawed hand. The Supreme Overlord looked the commander in the eye and
smiled.
     "No," he said, resting back in his black-and-gray robes.  "Sever  it  and
give it to me. I will keep it as a reminder of your promise. Should  you  fail
me again, I shall sacrifice each and every member of your domain to the  gods.
Is that understood?" Karsh nodded tensely, understanding  all  too  well  that
Shimrra meant precisely what he said. Taking a  sharp-edged  coufee  from  the
scabbard at his side, he raised it with one hand and, with a blank  expression
on his face, neatly sliced off the other. The severed limb fell with  a  heavy
thud to the floor. A patter of light footsteps came  as  the  bent,  mutilated
figure of Shimrra's familiar capered forward to collect it while  Karsh  stood
rigidly to attention.
     Shimrra waited a long moment as Karsh's lifeblood spilled  out  onto  the
ground, splashing his boots. Then he nodded his  approval  to  the  commander.
"You may go." Karsh walked stiffly to the exit. The view was  perfectly  clear
in the villip. At last, Nom Anor had exactly what he needed: an  insight  into
Shimrra's inner sanctuary, an ear to  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  leader's  words  and
thoughts.
     Things were clearly not going well for the Supreme Overlord. The lack  of
advancement since taking Yuu-zhan'tar seemed  to  have  afflicted  the  entire
Yuuzhan Vong force. Resistance had formed where  previously  there  was  none,
supply lines had been sabotaged, terra-forming of the capital world was  at  a
standstill, and the priests warned  incessantly  of  the  tightening  hold  of
heresy on the lower ranks. This last part  pleased  Nom  Anor  the  most.  His
efforts had sent  a  tide  of  dissent  lapping  at  the  walls  of  Shimrra's
stronghold.
     Nom Anor's satisfaction deepened as the conversation in Shimrra's  throne
room moved to other matters. He could hear  every  word  perfectly.  Attacking
Ngaaluh had turned out to be the best thing  he  could  have  done.  Far  from
making the priestess fear him, it seemed to have bolstered her resolve to defy
the Supreme Overlord.
     "I owe you my life, Master," Ngaaluh had gasped up at him from where  she
had lain on the floor, the day they had met under their new circumstances. She
had been weak and pale, but gradually regaining her strength. The antidote Nom
Anor had administered was slowly taking effect. "You are  truly  Yu'shaa,  the
compassionate one, and I am your  humble  servant."  Nom  Anor  recognized  an
opportunity when he saw one, and he had no reservations in exploiting one when
it came his way.
     "I have given you back your life," he had said to  the  priestess.  "With
what are you prepared to repay me?" "I  would  repay  you  with  my  life,  my
Master." " You would willingly  risk  it  for  me?"  "Without  hesitation,  my
Master." "And if I were to ask you to risk it for the Jedi?" "If you  were  to
ask me to risk it for a ghazakl worm, I would do so without question," Ngaaluh
had said. "But for the Jeedai I would gladly offer my life  in  sacrifice,  so
that I might again become one with the Force." Nom Anor  remembered  Ngaaluh's
words distinctly. It was a  conclusion  that  hadn't  come  from  him  or  his
followers, but rather something Ngaaluh had devised herself.  Over  subsequent
days, as the priestess slowly regained her strength, Nom Anor had  probed  for
the source of this and other conclusions Ngaaluh had come to  before  deciding
to seek out the Prophet for  herself.  It  transpired  that  Ngaaluh  had  had
contact with the treacherous creature Vergere, who  had  sowed  the  seeds  of
doubt in her mind while in the safekeeping of the deception sect. Ngaaluh  had
been doubting the established pantheon for  some  time  since,  and  had  been
seeking a way to incorporate the Jedi and the Force into the  worldview  she'd
been brought up to accept. Some of  the  priestess's  conclusions  echoed  Nom
Anor's fictitious propositions—such as the idea of the Force being an echo  of
the spirit of Yun-Yuuzhan — but others were truly her own. The idea that death
reunited the Yuuzhan Vong with the spirit of their creator was, in Nom  Anor's
opinion, an inspired one—and one that allowed him to offer the Shamed Ones  an
excuse to risk their lives in his service.
     As someone well acquainted with deception and deceit, she had tracked the
Prophet's Message to its source and, by virtue of her sincerity, had inveigled
herself among the acolytes.  Nom  Anor  was  not  so  naive  as  to  take  the
priestess's servitude at face value. He knew  there  was  a  possibility  that
Ngaaluh was a double agent, emptily spouting  the  words  she  knew  Nom  Anor
wanted to hear. Nevertheless, the opportunity to send Ngaaluh back to  Shimrra
equipped with a villip beacon was one too perfect to turn down.
     "... marked downturn in  the  far-reaches  destabiliza-tion  program,"  a
subaltern was saying. "The  infiltration  phase  is  complete  in  many  rival
communities, with conflict escalating to the point of open war in others.  But
in at least two major instances the infidels have intervened to halt our work.
In both cases the work of our agents was not just undone but  ultimately  used
to strengthen the infidels. I fear that this counteracts the  successful  work
achieved in other areas." "This was the program initiated by Nom Anor, was  it
not?" an aide asked. "If so—" "Do not speak that name in my presence!" Shimrra
interrupted sharply, standing. Then, with more composure but no humor at  all,
he smiled. "Not until I have his severed head before me and I wear his  flayed
skin as a cloak will I hear the traitor's name again." The Supreme  Overlord's
mqaaq'it implants burned like miniature suns. "You will do  well  to  remember
that. Otherwise it will be your head I shall have before me." The aide  backed
away. "Yes, Most Potent and Powerful One. I simply wished to  point  out  that
the fact that this program is the work of—of a certain former  executor  might
explain its failure. It was  flawed  to  begin  with,  My  Lord,  and  perhaps
therefore should be abandoned." "No," Shimrra  said  thoughtfully,  descending
the steps of his throne. "It was a good plan when it was proposed, and  it  is
still a good plan. We will continue with the program for the time being. It is
an effective use of resources in  a  region  far  from  the  main  front.  Any
temporary alliances formed as a result of the incompetence of our agents  will
be corrected when the rest  of  the  galaxy  has  fallen."  As  the  subaltern
retreated into anonymity, Nom Anor told himself  that  he  should  be  feeling
satisfaction, not hurt. Shimrra's acknowledgment of his  destabilization  plan
was the highest praise he had ever received from the Supreme Overlord. It  was
nice to know that, reviled as he was, his skills were  at  least  appreciated.
But to hear himself dismissed as a "certain former executor" was galling.
     "What news of the heretics?" Shimrra asked.
     High Priest Jakan glided reverently forward. "Our spies  have  failed  to
penetrate the inner command circle," he said. "Our lack of knowledge of  their
doctrine is too great, their loyalty too strong." "Loyalty to what?" "To their
leader, Great Lord. He is the one from whom this heresy springs." "And what is
his name, this so-called leader of Shamed Ones?" "He is  called  Yu'shaa,  the
Prophet." "A prophet?" Shimrra offered a short, menacing laugh. "Does  he  see
things, this prophet? Things that are to be?" "So it  is  said,  Great  Lord."
"And does he see his own death,  I  wonder?"  The  high  priest  did  not  say
anything to this, nor did Shimrra expect  a  response.  The  Supreme  Overlord
clenched one gnarled fist and raised it in the air for all to see. "I want him
destroyed. Do you hear me? I want him found and destroyed. I want him  crushed
along with all of those who follow  him!"  "It  will  not  be  easy,"  Ngaaluh
announced evenly, disguising the voice of her  heart  behind  an  intelligence
report. Claiming information gleaned through the work of  her  sect,  she  had
persuaded the priest Harrar to allow her into the  throne  room  with  him.  "
Yu'shaa's followers grow steadily with each day. His message spreads  farther.
His voice, through them, is slowly building from a whisper into a  shout  that
will soon be too loud to silence." Shimrra turned  on  her,  a  mask  of  cold
anger. From the steadiness of the image he was watching, Nom  Anor  knew  that
Ngaaluh neither flinched nor trembled as the Supreme Overlord approached her.
     "And what is it they will be shouting, priestess?" he  said.  He  was  so
close to her now that the seared and tattooed face of Nom Anor's former master
seemed to fill the villip. "What is it they want?"  Ngaaluh  didn't  hesitate.
"They want status, Highest  One.  To  be  un-Shamed.  They  want  acceptance."
Shimrra's hideous visage creased in  puzzlement.  Acceptance?  Un-Shamed?  Nom
Anor could  barely  repress  a  cackle.  He  could  almost  read  the  Supreme
Overlord's mind. What sort of infidel nonsense was this?
     The puzzlement faded. Shimrra pulled away. He was no fool. He  would  not
mistake the ultimate goal of the heresy. The  concept  of  redemption  of  the
Shamed Ones struck at the very heart of Yuuzhan Vong hierarchy. It  undermined
the authority of those who stood at the top of that hierarchy. It gave a voice
to those who were crushed at the bottom.
     On the glorious day when Nom Anor  walked  into  the  Supreme  Overlord's
throne room as the un-Shamed leader of a rising tide of resentment,  he  would
look in Shimrra's eyes and stand before him  as  an  equal.  Only  then  would
Shimrra know just how thoroughly he had lost and how triumphant Nom  Anor  had
been.
     That a "certain former executor" could  tunnel  into  the  heart  of  the
Supreme Overlord's ziggurat from its deepest basement would show everyone that
he was someone to be reckoned with. His name would be accursed no longer.
     In a high-pitched singsong voice, Onimi,  the  hideous  familiar  of  the
Supreme Overlord, spoke: "Know, my Lord, they  will  not  succeed  In  turning
seditious dreams to deed." Shimrra turned his attention to  his  familiar.  "I
agree that it sounds preposterous, inconceivable—but if every Shamed One  were
to revolt, to take up arms..." "Numbers alone will not suffice, nor any amount
of sacrifice. Night and day you are protected by guards loyal to you, prepared
to die." "Indeed," Shimrra said, scowling around the room at those  attending.
His thoughts, again, were obvious: on top  of  the  shapers,  intendants,  and
priests who were having increasing difficulties maintaining his realm,  Hreven
Karsh had failed him, a perfectly good plan set in place  by  a  fugitive  was
beginning to fall  apart,  and  a  priestess  had  just  delivered  his  death
sentence. And these were the people who were supposed to protect him?
     No, things most certainly were not going well for the Supreme Overlord.
     Indeed, Nom Anor echoed with growing elation.  And  if  I  have  my  way,
Shimrra, things are going to get a whole lot worse for you yet!
     When she walked into the Bakuran infirmary ward, Leia couldn't help  feel
as if she'd done it all before. She'd been in enough med units in her time  to
know that they all pretty much looked the same, and this one was no exception.
However, this wasn't the source of her deja vu. What gave this moment  such  a
strong sense of familiarity was the patient.
     Tahiri lay unconscious on the room's sole bed, just as  she  had  on  Mon
Calamari. The only difference was her eyes. This time they were wide open  and
saw nothing. She could have  been  resting  peacefully,  but  for  the  fierce
burning of her scars. The marks left on  her  forehead  by  the  Yuuzhan  Vong
master shaper on Yavin 4 seemed to flare up in response to  her  psychological
distress. Salis D'aar's meditechs had found no means of  easing  her  internal
suffering. The girl made no impression in the Force, giving  Leia  nothing  to
work with. All she could do was imagine what was going  on  inside  the  young
woman's mind and body.
     Jaina and Jag looked up from their position beside  the  bed.  Jaina  was
still supposed to be  confined  to  the  hover-chair  the  medical  droid  had
assigned to her, but in a typical show of independence, she had  discarded  it
within minutes of getting out of bed. Jag hadn't left  her  side  since  she'd
awoken, despite the fact that he must have been as exhausted as she was. Their
hands stayed firmly clasped whenever they were in range, as though  they  were
terrified to let go for fear of losing each other again.
     Leia warmed at that thought. She  had  felt  that  way  many  times,  and
understood it all too well. What pleased her more than anything else  was  the
fact that Jag was slowly abandoning his reservations about  open  displays  of
affection in public. It seemed that his close encounter  with  entechment  had
made him realize that time was simply too short to  waste  on  worrying  about
what people thought.
     "How's she doing?" Leia asked.
     "The same." Jaina  turned  her  attention  back  to  Tahiri.  "She's  not
responding to anything they try, and I  can't  get  through  to  her.  Perhaps
Master Cilghal could do something, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "It's like
she's not even there." They stared at the injured girl for a long moment,  the
gloominess of their thoughts filling the  room.  Then  Jaina  made  a  visible
effort to change the mood, straightening and stretching her arms.
     "So, has the new treaty been ratified yet?" "Signed and sealed." Leia was
grateful for the change in  topic.  "The  P'w'eck  Emancipation  Movement  has
formally allied with Bakura. Lwothin and Panib put their names to  the  papers
half an hour ago. They've agreed to hold elections within the month, to  share
all Ssi-ruuvi assets seized in battle, and to initiate  a  liberation  program
for the P'w'eck who stayed behind. My guess is,  once  word  spreads,  they'll
start seeing refugees from the Im-perium  within  months,  and  some  sort  of
retaliation within a year. I hope that by then Bakura will be strong enough to
stand on its own. At least they know it's coming, so they can prepare."  "What
about the Keeramak?" Jag asked. "The body  is  already  on  its  way  back  to
Lwhekk.  They  figure  returning  the  body  of  their  Grand  Shreeftut  will
temporarily appease the Ssi-ruuvi Conclave, even if  it  arouses  the  Elders'
Council. The resulting conflict should keep them  occupied  for  a  while,  at
least." Leia was still amazed at both the complexity and the audacity  of  the
Keeramak's plan. Having risen to power ten years after the decimation  of  the
Imperium at the hands of the New Republic, it had used its  unique  status  to
formulate a reprisal that very nearly worked. Faking a P'w'eck uprising wasn't
hard; New Republic worlds responded to the idea of rebellion all  too  easily,
so to the locals the story wasn't  implausible.  The  nagging  fear  that  the
P'w'eck might be as bad as their former masters  could  only  be  assuaged  by
reassurances from the very pinnacle of Bakuran government,  and  the  Keeramak
had found an elegant way to solve that problem.
     "The droid technicians have finished  analyzing  Cun-dertol's  arm,"  she
said.
     Jaina's face hardened. "And?" "It's  as  you  thought.  He  was  a  human
replica droid." Jag  hugged  Jaina  lightly  around  the  shoulders  when  she
shuddered. "He looked so real."  Leia  nodded,  understanding  her  daughter's
revulsion. "The specs of his wrist and hand matched those of the  droids  made
by Simonelle the Ingoian, over thirty years ago. The bones are poly-alloy; the
muscles and other organs are made from biofiber; his skin was grown in a clone
vat; and everything else is just synthflesh. Despite it being an  abomination,
it's actually an incredible piece of work." "No wonder he didn't  want  to  be
examined on Selonia," Jaina said.
     "I didn't think such things were possible," Jag said to  Leia.  "Imperial
intelligence reported that Project Decoy failed." "It did. We never managed to
get the droid brains up to scratch—although Simonelle did by modifying an AA-1
verbobrain. They can be useful in certain circumstances, but by and large they
tend to be clumsy and unconvincing." "None of  which  applied  to  Cundertol,"
Jaina said, rubbing at her breastbone, which obviously still smarted from when
the Prime Minister had attacked her.
     "Someone on the black market must have made progress in the last  twenty-
five years. Someone prepared to charge for their efforts, too. Long before you
were born, Jaina, HRDs used to cost over  ten  million  credits.  I  can  only
imagine how much one would cost today." "I'm sure we'll  find  that  out  once
Vyram and Malinza have finished tracing the missing credits."  As  part  of  a
"rehabilitation" scheme,  the  two  ex-activists  had  been  co-opted  by  the
government to demonstrate  that  the  information  they'd  found  earlier  was
genuine. Although the kidnapping charges  had  been  overturned,  Freedom  had
still technically been an underground operation,  and  some  sections  of  the
interim government wanted an  assurance  that  they  would  no  longer  pursue
illegal activities.
     Salkeli, on the other hand, had been sentenced on all manner of  charges.
The Rodian wasn't going to see daylight for a very long time indeed.
     "So, let me get this straight," Jag said, frowning.  "Cundertol  covertly
pays someone untold millions of credits to build a replica droid  of  himself.
Right?" Jaina nodded. "Then he books the Jaunty Cavalier to pick up the  droid
from the manufacturer and deliver it somewhere near here. We don't know  where
yet; maybe an abandoned base or a temporary station. It doesn't really matter,
just as long as it's somewhere private." "Then he fakes his  own  kidnapping,"
Leia went on. "This is the tricky part.  He  has  to  get  offworld  and  back
without raising suspicion. He can't take his bodyguards or  his  advisers.  He
has to be completely alone while the process is under way." "And that  process
was entechment." Jag's face was pale at  the  thought.  "I  can't  believe  he
voluntarily turned himself in to the Ssi-ruuk so they could suck out his soul.
" "Well, he must've had a good idea that they wouldn't just  stick  him  in  a
droid ship and bleed him dry. He was their key to Bakura, after all.  As  long
as they gave him what he wanted, he would reciprocate." "You've got to  admire
them, really," Jaina said. "The plan was actually quite brilliant.  They  were
going to get an entire world in exchange for making Cundertol immortal. And it
almost worked." "But would it have worked?" Jag asked. "I  thought  entechment
wasn't permanent—that the life energy of the subject gradually decayed." Jaina
nodded. "Lwothin explained when  we  met  him  that  they'd  made  significant
advances in the science of entechment. That much was true, at  least."  "There
was a Jedi student named Nichos Man,"  Leia  explained,  "who  had  a  similar
process performed on him  for  medical  reasons.  He  died  with  the  Eye  of
Palpatine, so we don't know how long he would have lasted." "Cundertol  wasn't
a clunky droid like Nichos was, though," Jaina protested. "He looked  as  real
as you or I—and he smelled  real,  too,  otherwise  he  wouldn't  have  fooled
Meewalh and Cakhmain. Once the Ssi-ruuk had stuck him into the  HRD  and  sent
him back, all he had to do was avoid the invasion and get away. He could  have
dealt with any problems later, and no one would  have  been  the  wiser."  Jag
shook his head. "You have to feel sorry for the crew of the  Jaunty  Cavalier.
Cundertol sacrificed them all so that no  one  would  contradict  his  story."
"That's the sign of an evil mastermind," Leia said, remembering  her  previous
trip to Bakura and her first encounter with the  spirit  of  her  father.  "No
price is too great to pay to ensure his own survival." Jaina  looked  down  to
Tahiri. The girl hadn't moved throughout the conversation. Her eyes were fixed
on the ceiling, their only movement the  occasional  blink—the  regularity  of
which they could have set a chronometer to. That and the slow rise and fall of
her chest were the only signs that she was alive at all.
     "You haven't found his body," Jaina said. It wasn't a question.
     Leia replied anyway. "No." There was movement in the doorway. Thinking it
might be a meditech come to examine Tahiri, Leia stepped  aside  to  let  them
through. But it was Goure, the Ryn whom Tahiri had befriended, and  a  Bakuran
native, a Kurtzen dressed in a sand-colored, sleeveless gray robe with a  wide
leather belt around his waist. Numerous pouches adorned the belt, rattling  as
he walked.
     "I apologize," the Ryn said, embarrassed. "I  didn't  mean  to  intrude."
"No, please. Come in." Jaina had told Leia the little she'd learned about  the
Ryn from Tahiri. "Han will be along later. I know he'll want to talk to  you."
Goure looked uncertain about this. "Oh?" "He has a friend he hasn't heard from
for a while that he thought you might know of. A Ryn by the  name  of  Droma."
"Droma?" He considered the name for a moment. "It doesn't sound familiar,  I'm
afraid. I could probably find him for you, if you like. The chances  are  good
that one of my colleagues knows him."  "That's  okay,"  Leia  said.  "It's  no
problem. I'm sure he's doing all right, wherever he is. Han was just  curious,
that's all." Goure's manner was pleasant and relaxed, perfectly  likable.  "He
is blessed with the same talent as my husband." Goure's smoky-colored forehead
wrinkled at this "Which is?" "A knack for survival, of  course."  She  matched
his toothy smile, then looked away. The Kurtzen was standing patiently to  one
side, his ridged head gleaming in the harsh hospital light.
     "This is Arrizza," Goure said, following her gaze. "I asked him to come."
"It's a pleasure," Leia said as she stepped up to the  Kurtzen.  She  inclined
her head in a slight bow of greeting. "This is my daughter, Lieutenant Colonel
Jaina Solo, and Colonel Jagged Fel." Both nodded, and Arrizza bowed in return.
"But you came to see  Tahiri,  I  presume,  not  us,"  Leia  added,  once  the
introductions were over.
     "We came to help her, yes," the Kurtzen  said,  exchanging  a  look  with
Goure.
     "Help her in what way?" Jaina asked. "The meditechs and  healers  haven't
been able to do anything for her. What makes you think you can?" "They haven't
been able to help her," Goure interrupted, "because they don't  know  what  is
wrong with her. They are looking for a physical ailment. They won't find  one,
because Tahiri is not fighting a disease.  She  is  fighting  herself."  Jaina
glanced at Leia, then back to Goure. "She told you about her problem?" "I  saw
enough to confirm what I had already heard. Everyone in the Ryn  family  knows
the story of the Jedi-who-was-shaped. We know that  the  Yuuzhan  Vong  Shamed
Ones tell it to each other as an epistle of hope. We also know that it is  not
encouraged outside certain circles of the Galactic Alliance. If word  got  out
that a Jedi had been corrupted by the Yuuzhan Vong shapers — that such a thing
was even possible—the growing support  for  the  Jedi  could  be  dramatically
eroded." There was no point denying anything that  Goure  said.  "It's  true,"
Leia admitted. "Mezhan Kwaad tried to turn Tahiri into a Yuuzhan Vong  warrior
by giving her a new persona—that of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior  called  Riina.  My
son Anakin rescued her and managed to break the programming. We  believed  the
new persona had been erased, but it seems more  likely  now  that  Tahiri  had
simply buried it." "Not 'it,' " said Goure. "Her. Riina of Domain  Kwaad  does
not want to be buried. She wants to live, as does any intelligent being. Until
she's allowed that, she will not lie easily." "She's real?" Jag asked.  "She's
not just a figment of Tahiri's imagination?" The Ryn shook  his  head.  "In  a
manner of speaking, Riina is as real as Tahiri herself. You see, Tahiri wasn't
simply brainwashed to think and act like a Yuuzhan Vong. Mezhan Kwaad designed
Riina to be a person in her  own  right—with  everything  that  entails.  When
Tahiri came back, she had  more  than  just  the  knowledge  of  Yuuzhan  Vong
language and customs in her head; she had the makings of a new personality  in
there with her, wanting control of her body." "But  Tahiri  got  better,"  Jag
said. "She was fine." "Only until Anakin died," Leia pointed out. "Ever  since
then she's been struggling." "But this Riina couldn't just have reappeared for
no reason," Jag argued. "Something must  have  triggered  her  emergence."  "I
agree," Goure said. "And I think that trigger was when the  Galactic  Alliance
recently began making progress against the Yuuzhan  Vong.  Don't  forget  that
when Riina came into being, her people were on the rise. She may have  fallen,
but so had Coruscant; so had the Senate. Her personal loss was overshadowed by
the victories her compatriots were enjoying. Ultimately,  I  don't  think  she
ever expected the Yuuzhan Vong to lose—as they very well might,  now.  In  the
face of defeat, the spirit of the Yuuzhan Vong is fighting back. Unfortunately
for Tahiri, this is taking place within rather than without, as it is for  the
rest of us." "So how do we get rid of her?" Jaina asked, her eyes shining with
tears. Leia knew that  Jaina  felt  responsible  for  Tahiri's  breakdown  and
injuries on Bakura. She had suspected Riina's presence on Galantos, but hadn't
known back then what to do.
     "There's only one way to be sure of doing that," Goure said.
     "And that is?" Jaina pressed.
     The Ryn fixed her with an even and calculating stare. "To kill Tahiri, of
course." "What?" Jaina's voice was cold and angry. "Don't even think of joking
about something like—" "This is  no  joke,  I  assure  you."  The  Ryn's  tail
quivered with repressed energy. "The basic mistake everyone in  this  room  is
making, is assuming Riina to be something that  can  be  simply  excised  from
Tahiri. However, Riina isn't some kind of tumor;  she's  as  much  a  part  of
Tahiri as Tahiri is." Jag shook his head. "I don't understand." The Ryn looked
apologetic. "I'm not entirely sure that I do, either, to be honest," he  said.
"Although I suspect that my species has a greater affinity  for  outcasts  and
refugees than most people, having spent most of our history  being  either  or
both. Since Yavin Four, Tahiri has been set apart from everyone else by virtue
of her experience and her knowledge of the enemy.  Anakin  accepted  her,  but
then he died, leaving her alone. We know that  the  idea  of  family  is  very
strong among the Yuuzhan Vong, so she might have attempted to  attach  herself
to you, Anakin's family. Ultimately, though, it wouldn't have been  enough  to
keep her stable. What she needed, no one could give her, except herself."  The
Ryn came to the side of Tahiri's bed and placed a hand on her forehead. If she
registered his presence, she made no sign.
     "The shapers know what they're doing. When they set out  to  turn  Tahiri
into a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, they did exactly that." "But they failed  to  get
rid of Tahiri," Leia said. Goure nodded. "Thanks to Anakin, she  was  able  to
come back—only to find that her mind was now inhabited by  someone  else.  And
that someone had no intention of going  away  quietly,  either.  From  Riina's
point of view, Tahiri is the interloper.  Tahiri  has  done  little  else  but
resist her ever since her reawakening. Unfortunately it's a battle that cannot
be won, and it's taking a terrible toll on her mind." "If it  can't  be  won,"
Jaina said, "then what are you suggesting we do about her?" "Simple," the  Ryn
said, turning to face her. "We have to help them learn to  live  together.  We
must teach them how to become one." Jaina's incredulous laugh came  out  as  a
short, sharp bleat of defiance as she rose to her feet. "I  don't  think  so."
Leia stepped forward to assuage her daughter's anger. "Jaina—" "No, Mom,"  she
said quickly. "Teach Tahiri to accept the Yuuzhan Vong in her? After what they
did to her? After what they did to Anakin!" She  shook  her  head  firmly.  "I
won't let that happen. There has to be another way of removing  Riina  without
harming Tahiri. There has to be." Goure met her  anger  unflinchingly.  "There
isn't," he said soberly when her  outburst  had  abated.  "Just  as  Ba-kurans
cannot integrate the P'w'eck and remain the same as they were before, so, too,
is it with Tahiri and Riina. Moreover, there is a similar urgency. The P'w'eck
and the Bakurans had to work together in order to save  the  planet  from  the
Ssi-ruuk; now Tahiri must work with the personality of  Riina  Kwaad  to  save
herself from madness." Jaina opened her mouth to object, then shut it when her
mother touched her arm. Leia could sympathize with her daughter. The idea that
Tahiri couldn't be cured of the treatments the Yuuzhan Vong had  inflicted  on
her did sound preposterous, but she also knew that everything  they'd  so  far
tried had failed miserably.
     "Okay," Jag said, "assuming there is only one option, then how do  we  go
about it, exactly?" The Kurtzen stepped forward. "Like Riina,"  he  said,  "my
people have been cast out and ostracized from the place in which  we  feel  we
belong. It almost killed us, but as have many others in  such  situations,  we
found our own way to survive. We believe that the power of life focuses in the
objects we surround ourselves with. Either inadvertently or intentionally, the
things we gather reinforce who we  are,  making  us  stronger  or,  at  times,
weaker. In a balanced life, the internal  and  external  worlds  reflect  each
other perfectly. When a life is imbalanced, internal and external aspects must
be adjusted accordingly." " That's all well and good," Jag said. "But again  I
have to ask: what do we have to do to help Tahiri?" The Kurtzen native  opened
one of the pouches at his side. Reaching inside, he removed  a  small,  wooden
totem, its carved surface worn back by time. "We Kurtzen focus aspects of  our
lives' energies in items such as these. When our inner self lacks a particular
aspect, we use these objects to bring ourselves into balance. Goure says  that
Tahiri had such an object in her possession. A silver totem that she  produced
at a time of crisis." Leia reached into her robe and produced the pendant that
Tahiri had taken from her and Han's bedroom  that  night,  just  before  she'd
fled.
     "Is this what you're looking for?"  She  placed  the  silver  pendant  in
Arrizza's callused hand. The tiny representation of Yun-Yammka  glared  up  at
her, as though vowing vengeance. "Tahiri blacked out when she  found  this  on
Galantos. She blacked out again when I confronted her with it the other  night
in our room. She was  also  holding  it  when  they  brought  her  in  to  the
infirmary." "This is it," Arrizza said. He folded the pendant in one hand  and
closed his eyes.
     He seemed to collapse into himself for a moment  then—his  impression  in
the Force changing in a way Leia had never  seen  before.  She  couldn't  help
wonder just what he was doing, or what he was sensing. The pendant belonged to
the Yuuzhan Vong and they were invisible to the Force, so  there  was  no  way
they could have left any impression on the tiny statue.
     Unless, of course, the "power of life" the Kurtzen had  referred  to  was
something else entirely.
     With the attention of the room upon him, Arrizza stood silently as if  in
a trance. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath  and  clutched
the pendant tightly in his grasp. In  her  life,  Leia  had  experienced  many
strange traditions on many worlds. The Kurtzen's actions weren't surprising or
outlandish, and they were meant well, but she didn't have the  heart  to  tell
him that they weren't likely to help.
     Clearly, though, Jaina wasn't so willing to accept the gift in the spirit
it was offered. She kept staring at Tahiri, shaking her head.  As  if  reading
her thoughts, Goure stepped  up  and  placed  a  reassuring  hand  on  Jaina's
shoulder.
     "I know how you must feel about this," he said. "But remember, while  the
personality of Riina is undeniably Yuuzhan Vong,  she  doesn't  represent  all
that the Yuuzhan Vong have done these past years. If she  can  be  accused  of
anything, it can only be of trying to survive." "I don't  care,"  Jaina  said.
"She's still Yuuzhan Vong." "But she's a victim in all of this,"  Goure  said.
"Just as Tahiri is." Jaina looked as if she was about to argue this,  but  the
Ryn cut her off. " Tell me, was Tahiri herself when the bomb went off?" "What?
No, Riina had taken her over by then. Why?" "So  it  was  in  fact  Riina  who
created the Force bubble. Riina who saved the lives of  those  in  the  stands
above by staying close in to the bomb  where  she  knew  she  would  have  the
greatest effect." The Ryn's stare  was  piercing,  and  beneath  it  Leia  saw
Jaina's stubbornness flag slightly. "Is that the work of someone who  deserves
our contempt? Someone who deserves to be put down?"  Jaina  looked  away  from
Goure, back to Tahiri's motionless body. "So what are we supposed to  do?  Sit
back and let Riina take her over?" "We have a choice to make.  We  can  either
help  both  of  them,  or  we  can  watch  them  both  die."  Leia  felt   the
responsibility Goure was giving them like a heavy weight around her  neck.  He
was asking them to do something potentially very  dangerous.  She  knew  about
Anakin's vision of Riina as a dark force sweeping across the galaxy;  and  she
also knew that the vision could well come to pass if Riina was released,  with
all Tahiri's knowledge of the Jedi to back her up. Cilghal had once  described
one of the Yuuzhan Vong's other hybrid creations—the voxyn—as  "part  of  this
galaxy and part of the Yuuzhan Vong's." If Goure was right, Tahiri would  have
to achieve the same state in order to survive, and there was no guarantee that
she wouldn't end up as murderous and vicious as those creatures.
     But in the end, Leia had to have faith in Tahiri's strength  and  resolve
not to allow Anakin's vision to come to fruition.
     Arrizza's silent mumbling ceased, and he opened his eyes.  Goure  stepped
aside as the Kurtzen approached Tahiri's bed. No one spoke as Arrizza held the
silver pendant with one hand and rested the other on  Tahiri's  forehead.  His
lips moved soundlessly. There was no  response  from  Tahiri  as  the  Kurtzen
gently placed the pendant on her chest.
     "Are you  sure  we  should  leave  that  there?"  Jaina  asked  a  little
anxiously.
     Arrizza nodded. "It is traditional. It will help cleanse her spiritually.
" With that, Arrizza bowed reverently over her, holding  the  moment  with  an
indrawn breath, then finally exhaling and backing away.
     The sound of boots clomping along the corridor outside broke  the  sudden
quiet of the room. Leia turned to see Han walk into the room, a look  of  some
urgency on his face.
     "We've just received word from  Luke,"  he  said,  stepping  up  to  Leia
without acknowledging the others  in  the  room.  "He  says..."  Han  stopped,
looking around the room, noting for the first  time  the  people  gathered  by
Tahiri's bed. "What's going  on?"  Leia  was  about  to  explain  the  healing
ceremony that Arrizza was trying to perform, but decided against it before she
started. She didn't particularly feel like listening to her husband's  cynical
sounds-like-mumbo-jumbo-to-me speech.
     "I'll explain later," she said instead, taking his hand in hers.
     Han accepted this with a nod. "I heard the Ryn was here.Where'd  he  go?"
"He's right—" It was her turn to leave a sentence unfinished. "Well, he  was."
"My friend had no intention of staying any longer than he was needed," Arrizza
said, stepping forward. "Before we arrived, however, he did ask  that  I  give
you this." The Kurtzen handed a sheet of flimsiplast to Leia. She unfolded  it
and read, with her husband reading it also over her shoulder.
     My apologies for leaving so abruptly. I received word this morning that I
am required elsewhere. Part of my instructions was to advise you to travel  to
Onadax at your earliest convenience. You will be met there.
     When she awakens, please extend my heartfelt thanks to Tahiri for all she
has done here.
     With gratitude, Goure.
     "I am sorry," the Kurtzen said.
     "Don't be," Han said. "It's not your fault. I was just hoping to ask  him
about Droma." He took the note from Leia and scanned it again. "We'll  be  met
there," he paraphrased. "Does he mean by another  Ryn,  by  the  head  of  the
family, or by someone else altogether?" "It's not  really  made  clear,"  Leia
said. Despite—or because of—that, her interest was definitely piqued.
     "Isn't Onadax in the Minos Cluster?" Jaina asked.
     Leia nodded. "It's not all that far from Bakura." Han looked concerned.
     "What's wrong, Dad?" "Well, it's not exactly the best  of  places  to  be
visiting. It's a tough place, filled with all manner of lowlifes. I just don't
want anyone getting their expectations up that this trip will be some sort  of
romantic holiday or something." "Han, we had our first kiss in the belly of  a
space slug," Leia said. "Believe me when I say that my expectations  of  doing
anything remotely romantic with you have never been  particularly  high."  She
smiled at her husband, and was glad to see him lose his somberness  and  smile
back. Then, placing an arm about her shoulder, he  made  to  leave  with  her.
"Come on, Your Worshipfulness," he said wryly.  "You  need  to  talk  to  Luke
before he goes off to call Ben." "Wait." She turned to  Arrizza.  "What  about
Tahiri?" The Kurtzen shrugged again. "I do not know how long it will take  for
her to heal. It might be one hour; it might be a year. She might never heal at
all. I'm sorry that I cannot give you a definite answer. All  you  can  do  is
wait and see." Leia looked at the girl on the bed once more. She hadn't  moved
the entire time they'd been in the room. No, wait—that wasn't quite true, Leia
realized. She had changed: the young Jedi's eyes were now  closed,  as  though
she was sleeping. What that meant, exactly, Leia didn't know,  but  she  hoped
that it was a positive sign, at least.
     Dream well, Tahiri, she sent into the quiet dark that was Tahiri's  mind.
Dream well and come back strong.
     The small shuttle rattled out of hyperspace just on  the  border  of  the
Ssi-ruuvi Imperium. Its holds were almost empty, as was its  flight  deck.  In
total, it carried eight passengers. Only one of them was alive.
     Cundertol watched from the commander's station as the shuttle performed a
cursory sweep of the space around it. He had  changed  its  original  settings
shortly after leaving Bakura, immediately upon assuming control of  the  ship.
This was a destination he had visited just once before.  The  event  that  had
quite literally changed his life had taken place not  far  away,  in  a  small
research base left behind by the New Republic during  its  extended  offensive
against the Imperium. Abandoned for many years, it had been easy pickings  for
someone looking for a secret operations center.
     The shuttle's scan picked up  the  station  and  a  modified  Fw'Sen-dass
picket ship parked nearby. He set the shuttle on an intercept vector  for  the
latter, broadcasting a preplanned signal.
     A response came within seconds. The picket ship extended docking grapnels
and, once they were near enough, mated the two  vessels  together.  A  booming
clang resounded through the ship around him, announcing contact.
     Grunting in satisfaction, Cundertol climbed from  the  commander's  chair
and headed for the air lock, stepping over the bodies of the P'w'eck  crew  as
he went. The stump of his severed arm had healed  over  perfectly,  leaving  a
smooth patch of skin that was barely tender to the touch.
     "I have been waiting," said the Ssi-ruuvi  general  whom  Cundertol  knew
only as E'thinaa. His words came in the Ssi-ruuvi language, which  the  makers
of Cundertol's body had preprogrammed him to understand.
     "I came as soon as I could." Cundertol executed the smallest bow he could
deliver without seriously offending the general. There were no guards  in  the
bare stateroom, but he didn't doubt that he was being watched. "There  were...
complications." The thick black ridge that was E'thinaa's eyebrows  lifted  in
disapproval. "The Keeramak?"  "Is  dead,"  Cundertol  reported  instantly  and
without emotion. "I have its body onboard the shuttle  as  proof."  He  didn't
mention that the shuttle had originally been intended to deliver the  body  to
Lwhekk as a placatory gesture, or that he'd been forced to stow  away  on  the
craft in order to redirect it—and to survive.
     The general nodded his approval, his scent-tongues tasting the  air.  "As
long as this objective has been achieved, then everything else is unimportant.
" "I must admit that I don't understand why you wanted this, above all  else,"
Cundertol said. "Your people regard the Keeramak as some sort of  god.  Surely
killing it will cause chaos and civil war—more disruption  than  the  Imperium
can possibly withstand. You've spent so long rebuilding  things.  Why  destroy
them now?" The general's massive tail thumped the ground once, as if demanding
silence. "You are not required to understand anything,  human.  You  stink  of
lies." Cundertol nodded, averting his gaze  from  the  general's  stare.  He'd
heard too many stories about the persuasive powers of  the  Ssi-ruuk  to  risk
being caught now. His HRD body might be physically  strong,  but  it  couldn't
protect him against the many traps that might befall his mind.
     But...
     His mind tripped on the general's words. How could E'thinaa have detected
the scent of deception when the tissue comprising the outer layers of his  new
body had been specifically designed to release scents identical to a  natural,
nonstressed human, no matter what his state of mind or what  lay  beneath  the
facade? The general had to be bluffing, he told himself dismissively.
     It wasn't,  however,  so  easy  to  shake  himself  free  of  his  sudden
suspicions. The Ssi-ruuk didn't often bluff, after all. They were usually more
direct in their approaches to and manipulations of what they  regarded  to  be
"lesser" species.
     And now that he thought about it, the superior olfactory  senses  of  his
new body were picking up something odd about the Ssi-ruu...
     He suddenly felt distinctly uncomfortable, wanting to leave there as soon
as possible. Something wasn't quite right, and he didn't like it one bit.
     "I've met my side of the bargain," he said, glad that he had retained his
sabacc face, after the transfer. "Now, how about  you?"  "You  have  your  new
body. What more do you want?" "You know what I want.  You  said  you'd  refund
half the money I paid for this body if I delivered you Bakura. I've done that,
so now I'd like what you promised me." The general began to pace the room with
clicking strides, his tail sweeping menacingly. "It is my  understanding  that
Xwhee is no longer part of the Imperium." "It has been consecrated—" "And  the
P'w'eck traitors have taken it for their own, no?" "Yes, and you can fight for
it now. You can send troops without fearing for their souls—" The general  cut
him off with a chopping gesture of one mighty arm.  "You  have  not  delivered
your side of the bargain, yet you expect me to keep mine!" he roared close  to
Cundertol's face, spraying him  with  spittle.  Cundertol  flinched,  and  the
general straightened. "I am disappointed, but I can't say that I'm  surprised.
Your species is not known for its honor." Cundertol  could  feel  his  control
over the situation quickly slipping away. "Listen,  we're  both  doing  a  job
here, and as you know, sometimes it's not possible to meet every  expectation.
I've taken you halfway there—" "As we have taken  you  halfway,"  the  general
interrupted. "You have your new body; you have your bottled soul. Surely  that
is enough." And  maybe  it  was,  Cundertol  thought.  With  his  mind  safely
ensconced in its new HRD home, he was free from aging and disease.  He  really
could live forever, if he was careful. With the right contacts, he  could  get
his arm fixed, establish a new  power  base  somewhere  else,  begin  building
himself up to where he had been. There were thousands of  opportunities  in  a
galaxy this large. All he had to do was — Cundertol stopped the thought in its
tracks. What was the point of dreams without money to bring them into reality?
Without money, he would never be able to replace his missing limb or  buy  new
contacts; he wouldn't even be able to refuel the shuttle after its next  stop.
There was no point being immortal if you couldn't do anything — or  worse,  if
you ended up drifting through space, heading nowhere.
     "I'm not leaving here without the payment I deserve," he said slowly  and
firmly, staring the big lizard right in the eyes.
     "No?" The general squared off and flexed his powerful muscles. "Would you
combat me for it?" Cundertol felt the strength coursing through his artificial
body. What were flesh and blood against poly-alloy bones and enhanced biofiber
muscles? If he could outfight a Jedi, then a  Ssi-ruu  should  be  no  trouble
whatsoever.
     Cundertol nodded. "I will," he said, "and I will crush you as I would  an
insect." The general laughed. "The hatchmate returns to destroy  his  mother!"
"I'm serious," Cundertol clenched and unclenched his fists with a mix of anger
and nervousness. "Give me  my  money."  The  general  took  up  the  challenge
unflinchingly as he stepped forward, pinning Cundertol with  his  stare.  With
lethal deliberation, he said: "The only thing you shall get from me is death."
Cundertol braced himself for the fight, and suddenly found that he was  unable
to move. He was rooted to the spot, every muscle of his body rigid  as  though
he were nothing more than a statue. He couldn't move his  eyes,  his  mouth—he
couldn't even breathe! And then, in  mid-stroke,  the  beating  of  his  heart
stopped.
     The general's leering visage came so close that he could feel the alien's
breath on his face. Twin scent-tongues tasted him, licking at the fear  surely
emanating from his synthflesh.
     "You are a fool, human," E'thinaa said. The general's breath  stank,  but
Cundertol couldn't turn away from it. "Did you honestly think that we wouldn't
be ready for you? Do you believe us to be so stupid? We have learned  much  of
your vile machines since coming to your galaxy. We know how to encourage  your
filthy technologists to perform  for  us,  to  build  restraining  bolts  that
activate on hearing a particular phrase. We are perfectly capable of  stealing
that which we require to reach our goals—goals you helped us attain. You sowed
chaos; now we shall reap the rewards." Cundertol yearned to pull away...
     Since coming to your galaxy...
     Panic flooded through him.
     The alien's hideous face seemed to melt and peel  away.  The  long  snout
folded back and rolled down the long neck, taking the triple-lidded  eyes  and
scent-tongues with them.
     Beneath lay a face more horrible than any Cundertol had ever imagined.  A
long, sloping forehead swept down to two gaunt, tattooed cheeks. Purple  sacks
bulged under cold, black eyes. Deep scars  carved  the  gray  flesh  like  the
cracks of an ice moon, and sharp teeth grinned  at  him  as  he  realized  his
mistake.
     "You are nothing to me," hissed the voice of the impersonator.  "Perhaps,
had you remained alive, we might have taken you as a slave or a sacrifice; but
as you are, you are worthless, unliving filth. We have destroyed  the  machine
that made you and purified the hands that touched  it  with  the  blood  of  a
thousand captives. We would never deign to deal with dead stuff  such  as  you
are now made of. Life is tissue; it  is  soil;  it  is  blood."  The  creature
paused, then, and smiled. "It is death." The face that would be the last thing
Cundertol ever saw pulled back out of range. So profoundly was  he  frozen  by
the restraining bolt, he couldn't even focus his  eyes.  Everything  beyond  a
meter remained a blur—a blur that filled with dark shadows as more of the vile
creatures entered the room. They swarmed around him, twisting and writhing  in
impossible shapes.
     The only thing you shall get from me is death.  So  E'thinaa—or  whatever
the alien's real  name  was—had  said,  and  with  those  words  he  had  been
condemned. The last thing  Cundertol  felt  was  the  powerful  sting  of  am-
phistaffs striking him and tearing his  artificial  body  apart.  He  couldn't
move, but the aliens had ensured that he could still feel pain. The agony  was
blinding, too much to truly comprehend.
     When Cundertol's containment fields finally dissolved and his  mind  fell
away, it came as pure relief.
     In the end, there was just one.
     Klasse Ephemora was an  isolated  system  on  the  side  of  Chiss  space
opposite the galactic Core. Named after the explorer who had first charted the
system, centuries ago, it had once housed a small gem-mining operation  around
its one gas giant, a bloated monster hovering just inside the star's habitable
zone. Severe atmospheric disturbances had prevented the gem station from  ever
being profitable, however, so it had been abandoned more than  fifty  standard
years earlier. Klasse Ephemora had lain fallow ever since: lacking terrestrial
worlds  that  might  have  encouraged  colonization;  too  remote  to  warrant
commercial interest, and yet too far away from the  Chiss  border  to  justify
even a token military presence. Every few decades, an  automated  probe  would
sweep through the system to update astronomical charts  and  ensure  that  the
navigational anchor points left behind by the initial survey were still  true.
Beyond that, it was completely ignored.
     And so it might have remained forever, had not the  last  probe  to  pass
through some twenty-five years earlier happened to  note  that  the  sole  gas
giant in the system, Mobus, had  acquired  a  new  satellite.  This  satellite
joined a family of seventeen other satellites around Mobus, but exceeded their
combined mass more than ten times over. A world  in  its  own  right,  it  was
shrouded in clouds that prevented a visual survey as the probe  flew  by.  The
presence of water vapor might have warranted further  investigation,  but  the
probe was not programmed to change course for something so nebulous. Had there
been clear signs of intelligent life on the moon-world, the probe  might  have
braked into an orbit around Klasse A and observed the new moon in more detail,
then reported the findings back to its superiors in the CEDE  But  the  planet
emitted nothing on the subspace channels, nor were there any transmissions  on
the electromagnetic spectrum. So the probe simply noted the moon's appearance,
then continued on its way.
     The  fact  of  the  moon's  existence  had  languished   in   the   Chiss
Expeditionary Library ever since, filed with all the myriad other reports from
thousands of identical probes. As rare as the orbital capture was,  it  wasn't
startling enough to attract the attention of the astronomers who  studied  the
data on the probe's return. There were countless more interesting  discoveries
waiting in the Unknown Regions. So what if an  abandoned  system  acquired  an
extra moon or two?
     Jacen stared at the pictures of the moon brought back by the probe with a
feeling bordering on profound awe.


     He saw a gray orb lit by the baleful light of a  boiling  red-yellow  gas
giant. The atmosphere soaked up infrared, but radar  showed  a  hilly  terrain
around the equator, with several small flat spots that could  have  been  seas
scattered evenly  across  both  hemispheres.  There  was  evidence  of  recent
eruptions and crust movement, as would  be  expected  for  a  world  that  had
endured capture not just by a sun, but also by a gas giant.
     "That's it," he breathed, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.  "That's
Zonama Sekot." "The charts list it as M-Eighteen," Wyn said.
     "It's Zonama Sekot," Jacen repeated. "It has to be. What did you say  the
odds were, Danni?" "Very much against something like this happening naturally,
Jacen," she said. "But that doesn't mean it couldn't  happen."  "I  know,"  he
replied easily. "But it didn't." R2-D2 whistled cheerfully, as though  backing
him up.
     "We should at least check it out," Mara said.
     "We will," Luke agreed. "After all, it's the best lead we've had so far."
"If there's anything we can do to assist you," Soontir Fel said, "consider  it
done." He hesitated for barely a second  before  adding,  "Within  reason,  of
course." Those weren't empty words. The Chiss had  already  provided  detailed
tactical maps of the Unknown Regions, revealing several torturous trade  lanes
through areas that previously had been thought impassible.  More  sinis-terly,
the data showed that the Yuuzhan Vong had been more active in  the  area  than
Galactic Alliance intelligence had known. As far back as the first attacks  on
New Republic systems, a Yuuzhan Vong task force had made  an  end  run  around
Chiss space and made it into the Unknown Regions. That it had never been heard
of since—or that no other task force had made it past the Chiss—was  no  cause
for complacency. Further Chiss assistance might well  prove  welcome  at  some
point.
     Luke smiled genially. "Thank you," he said. "And I promise not to mention
a treaty with the Galactic Alliance until the next time we pass through here."
"If there is a next time," Mara said.
     Jacen nodded, thinking  of  the  attack  on  the  Imperial  Remnant,  the
Krizlaws on Munlali Mafir, and Chief Navigator Aabe; and then, of course,  the
Yuuzhan Vong themselves, whose incursions into Chiss space were becoming  more
frequent every day.
     It's been hard enough getting this far, he thought. I doubt it's going to
get any easier.
     He felt Danni's support and confidence nearby, and was warmed by  it.  At
least, he added, there was no shortage of support—for  him  and  the  Galactic
Federation of Free Alliances. All they had to  do  was  follow  their  hearts,
letting the Force guide their decisions, and eventually, he was  sure,  they'd
get there.
     What they would find when they arrived, however, remained to be seen...