Star Wars: New Jedi Order Book 8b: Emissary of the Void

by Greg Keyes

  “Does the reason she’s angry really matter? So she feels justified in whatever she’s planning. Would that make it any better?”

  “But if Master Skywalker ordered her to Wayland -- “

  “Well, that’s the problem,” Vega said. “He didn’t.”

  “What?”

  She tapped a readout. “This came in just before you did. Klin-Fa Gi was killed on Gyndine, or presumed so, two months ago. And Master Skywalker doesn’t know anything about any mission to Wayland.”

  “Oh. Carbon flush.”

  “Yeah. You see.”

  “What does Master Skywalker want us to do?”

  “Bring her in for debriefing, as soon as possible.”

  Uldir nodded wearily. “I guess that’s what we’ll do, then.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Taking a nap. Or at least -- “ he paused. “Does the air smell funny to you?”

  Vega’s eyes widened, just as Uldir felt his ears pop.

  He turned quickly to his instruments. “Vaping Moffs! We’re losing air pressure.”

  At that moment, the ship shuddered as if struck, and the lights went out. Cursing, Uldir brought emergency power online. “We’ve dropped out of hyperspace!” He said.

  “Interdicted?”

  “No. The drive failed.”

  “I bet it didn’t just fail,” Vega said.

  “I bet you’re right,” he agreed. “Vega, get back there. Don’t be afraid to shoot.”

  “It’s too late,” the Corellian told him.

  But Uldir saw that, too. A-wing one was just crossing their field of view, under full acceleration. An instant later it vanished into hyperspace.

  “Vook!” Uldir shouted. “Get that vector!”

  “Got it, boss,” the Duro’s voice replied. “But we have our own troubles.”

  The air was getting really thin now. “She’s opened us to space,” Uldir growled. “That little -- “

  “And sabotaged the hyperdrive,” the Duro added. “We aren’t going anywhere, sir. We’re stranded here.”

  “Nearest planet on slower-than-light?” Uldir asked, grimly.

  “Two years away, sir. The stars are sparse out here.”

  “Like I said,” Vega drawled. “Things just get better all the time.”

  CHAPTER III:

  War on Wayland

  SPACE WAS ABOUT TO KILL Uldir Lochett and his crew in a most unpleasant manner. Although it wasn’t the first time the void had tried to snuff him out -- not by a gigaparsec -- Uldir still had plenty of objections.

  “We’re losing atmosphere, fast,” He muttered, combing his fingers through the switches and indicators at the helm of his transport, the No Luck Required. “But where?” His voice already sounded unnaturally thin, and his eardrums felt like they were going to explode. How soon before his blood started to boil?

  Stop thinking about that. That’s not helping.

  “Where do you suppose?” asked Vega Sepen, his first officer, her eyes flashing like corusca gems beneath her platinum bangs. “It’s not complicated. Your girlfriend jammed the starfighter bay open.”

  “Well, seal if off!” he snapped, returning the Corellian’s glare. “And do not call her my girlfriend.”

  “Touchy,” Vega said. “You shouldn’t let one little spat bust up a good thing. I mean, she only sabotaged our hyperdrive, stole our only hyperdrive-capable starfighter, and left us bleeding air.”

  “Yeah? You sound jealous to me, Sepen,” he snapped.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Vega said, studying the system indicators. “I’ve got the big hurt for you, all right. I’m going to make my move as soon as you’re out of diapers.”

  Her voice sounded weird. The falling pressure, probably.

  “Boss . . .” Vega went on, in a more normal tone.

  “What?”

  “It won’t seal.”

  “Sithspawn!” He raised his voice, trying to project it through the thinning air. “Vac suits, everyone, now!” He rose to his feet and found his legs wobbly. He suppressed a giggle as the situation suddenly seemed amusing. Was harder-than-corundum Vega Sepen actually jealous of the rogue Jedi? Vega was like a tough older sister -- there had never been anything between them.

  Nor was there anything between him and Klin-Fa Gi. She had been an irritating mynock on his hull from the second they met, and that was before she had tried to kill him and his crew.

  Another funny thing, this one a real side-splitter. He was pretty sure he didn’t have time to make it to the storage lockers before passing out. Why hadn’t he thought of the vac suits first? Where was his brain?

  Oh, right. Starving for oxygen.

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed at that one. The galaxy was the best practical joker ever.

  He was still chuckling when he tripped over Leaft. The Dug had collapsed in a pile, his limbs sticking up at odd angles. His normally ferocious face actually looked sort of cute with no surly consciousness to animate it. And he had brought some blankets to curl up on, or was it laundry?

  No, those are the vac suits, you idiot, some stubbornly rational part of Uldir snarled. You forgot. Leaft didn’t.

  His vision was blurring. He didn’t have long. He put the helmet on first and twisted the feed valve, then started shimmying into the suit. The fresh air smelled good, but his lungs couldn’t get much of it -- not enough pressure, without a seal between suit and helmet.

  A bunch of black holes suddenly appeared in the bulkhead. Yuuzhan Vong voids? Were they under attack, now, on top of everything else?

  “That’s it,” he muttered. “I give up.”

  He did, too, as the black holes devoured the ship, the light, and finally Uldir Lochett.

  * * *

  He awoke to the hiss of air in his helmet. The flat face of a Duro was staring at him with concern. The Duro was wearing a vac suit. It took him a confused moment to understand that it was Vook, the fourth member of his crew. It took only another heartbeat to recall his last memories.

  “Leaft, Vega! We have to -- “

  “Already done, Boss-boy,” Vega’s voice sounded tinny in his helmet transceiver. “We’re all okay. Leaft’s a little on the puny side -- “

  “I’m fine,” the Dug snarled. He sounded more groggy than convincing.

  “Good work, Leaft, going for the suits,” Uldir said. “Next time, remember to put yours on first. Always.”

  “Hrrm. Basic training. Wasn’t thinking straight, though.” Leaft sounded chagrined, which was a rarity. “Thinking like a human,” he added. That was more like Leaft. Uldir was relieved.

  “Vook was thinking straight, at least,” Vega said.

  Vook looked embarrassed, but said nothing.

  “Okay,” Uldir said, wobbling to his feet. “Let’s see what’s wrong and fix it.”

  “And then?” Leaft growled.

  “Then we go get our starfighter back and make a certain Jedi experience a great deal of remorse.”

  * * *

  Uldir was with Vook in the engine crawlway, puzzling over the defunct hyperdrive, when Vega stuck her head down from above.

  “We got the outer doors sealed,” she said.

  “And the inner?”

  “Well, it’s good news and bad news,” Vega allowed. “The bad news is she cut through the inner doors with her lightsaber, so we’re going to have to patch them. Leaft’s on that. The good news -- I guess this is good news -- she didn’t jam the outer doors on purpose. She banged the mechanism with the A-wing when she took off.”

  “Then she didn’t intend for us to die,” Uldir mused.

  “Think not? So you plot she hasn’t gone over to the dark side?”

  “If she were truly rogue, she would hardly have any compunction about killing us. She could have torped us, for that matter, to make sure of it.”

  “I think you’re still woozy,” Vega said. “She stranded us in Vong space without a hyperdrive, twenty light-years from anywhere. She cut the hyperwave antenna, t
oo, so we can’t call for help. That in itself is a death sentence. A slow, cruel one. Very dark.”

  “Maybe she figured we could fix one or the other.”

  “She knew we were already in bad shape, that we needed supplies to effect repairs.” Vega cocked her head. “Don’t forget, she’s on her way to Wayland. She must be after some of the Emperor’s old toys. Even if she hasn’t given in to the dark side, she must be right at the shatter zone.”

  “Yeah,” Uldir assented. “I’ll give you that. We just have to hope she hasn’t gone over. At least the Jedi still have a few friends left. A Dark Jedi could lose them what little support they have. It would be all the hard-liners in the Senate need to make the policy of turning Jedi over to the Yuuzhan Vong legal.”

  “That could be the least of it, if she finds any of the Emperor’s weapons,” Vega said. “We know from experience how much damage a single Dark Jedi can do.”

  “Yes,” Vook said softly, “but if that damage were to the Yuuzhan Vong, it is to be desired.”

  “Vook . . .” Uldir throttled his immediate retort. The Duro had lost his homeworld to the Vong. He was understandably upset.

  “I can’t imagine how you must feel, Vook,” Uldir said. “But the dark side can never be the answer. I didn’t learn a lot at the Jedi academy, but I did learn that.”

  Vook blinked slowly and was silent for a moment.

  “I can repair the hyperdrive,” he said, apparently dodging any debate.

  “You can?”

  “Yes. She cut through one of the motivator-engine linkages. That’s easily repaired. However, when we dropped from hyperspace, the resulting surge spread out over the rest of the system and fried the remaining motivators. I can realign the one good one to handle the engines, but only for two, maybe three jumps. Then it burns out, too.”

  “That’s terrific,” Vega said. “Can we make Mon Calamari?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Uldir said. “We’re going to Wayland.”

  Vega fixed him with her steely eyes. “And just how will we leave, once we get there? Don’t forget, the Yuuzhan Vong have a base on Wayland, too.”

  “We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” Uldir replied. “As it is, my last instructions from Master Skywalker were to bring her in for debriefing. That’s what we’re going to do.”

  “You’re not thinking with your head, boss,” Vega said.

  “And that’s enough of that.” Uldir said. “ It’s not funny anymore.” He turned to Vook. “How long until it’s done?”

  “Three hours, maybe four.”

  “Fine. Get to it. Vega, you’ll help me get us as battle-ready as possible.” He raised his voice. “Leaft, how are the repairs on the inner doors coming?”

  “Faster if you’d let me work in peace,” the Dug’s voice came back over the intercom.

  Vega was still staring at him. Her eyes and the set of her frame told him she was unhappy with his decision. He didn’t like to resort to pulling rank, if he could help it. It was always better when your crew agreed with you. But in this case he wasn’t going to entertain any discussions. He would not, could not be responsible for giving a Dark Jedi even the slightest opportunity to resurrect any of the Emperor’s old technology. Not even if it killed them all.

  * * *

  The No Luck Required dropped out of hyperspace with a bone-jolting thud. The inertial compensators whined and g-force tried to suck Uldir’s brain out of his right ear. A great green world filled most of his view, far too near.

  “Nice jump, boss,” Vega said.

  “What happened?” Uldir demanded, of no one in particular. “We’re lucky we didn’t end up starfood, coming out this close to a singularity.”

  Vook answered. “The motivator failed during the jump,” he said. “We are no longer hyperdrive capable.”

  “Well, at least you got us here. Good work, Vook.”

  “Yes sir,” Vook murmured, and added, “We’re doomed now, sir.”

  “No we’re not,” Uldir replied. “I want you to start exploring options. See if you can cannibalize enough parts to put together one jump, to anywhere. Scan the system for any hulks we might be able to salvage from. Anything. Just get me one more jump, Vook.”

  The Duro’s expression remained unreadable, but he shrugged. “Okay,” he said.

  “Boss,” Vega said, “I’ve got three objects turning our way.”

  “Perfect,” Uldir said. “What are they?”

  “Coralskippers.”

  Uldir toggled on the intercom. “Leaft, you hear that?”

  “Yes,” the Dug grunted. “I’m in the turret already.”

  Uldir flipped to long-range scanners. There were the skips, all right. Like all Yuuzhan Vong tech, the skips were living creatures, modified by advanced biotech into deadly killing vessels. Uldir had dealt with enough of the small furies to know that even one was a problem -- three made for a very bad day indeed.

  “It could be worse,” he sighed.

  “I’ve got a corvette analog coming around the planetary horizon,” Vega said. “I estimate we have about eight minutes to handle the skips before were have it to deal with, as well.”

  “Ah,” Uldir said. “So worse. Remind me not to say that again.”

  “What would be the point in that?” Vega asked. “You don’t seem to be handling advice all that well these days, even your own.”

  “And you’re plotting a course toward insubordination, fast,” Uldir snapped, starting the ship on a series of evasive maneuvers. “Vook, we’ve still got full maneuverability?”

  “In sublight, yes.”

  “Fine.”

  “Permission to speak, sir,” Vega said stiffly.

  “Vega . . .” he sighed. “What?”

  “You don’t need me here -- you’ve got Vook for fire control and repair and Leaft for the turret. Let me take out a starfighter. Even the odds a little.”

  “That’s a fine idea.”

  “Great.” She reached for the buckles of her crash harness.

  “Two minutes until maximum range,” Vook said.

  “Wait,” Uldir said. “I meant taking a starfighter out is a good idea. But I’m taking it. You assume command of the No Luck Required.”

  “Boss, that’s -- “

  “Listen to me. We can’t slug it out with every skip in the system. Try to cover my exit with a barrage -- dump some garbage, too, and I’ll go out cold silent. Then I want you to get going -- hide someplace, on the planet, in orbit running silent -- whatever. Once I’m clear of the fight, I’ll find Klin-Fa Gi, grab her, and bring her back.”

  “Right. Grab a Dark Jedi.”

  “I’m the only one of us with any Force sense at all,” Uldir said. “So I’m the only one who even stands a chance of even finding her.” he paused. “Anyway, I brought her on board. It was my decision to come after her. I’ll take the consequences.”

  Vega looked like some nasty insect had stung her inside her mouth.

  “I don’t like it,” she said.

  “You don’t have to. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

  “One minute,” Vook said.

  “Rotate fighter two,” Uldir said. With that, he left the helm and hurried toward the starfighter bay.

  * * *

  A globular bolt of plasma greeted Uldir as his A-wing cleared the fighter bay. He jerked reflexively at the stick -- forgetting he was powered down -- but he was still inside of the No Luck’s shields, which the blast spread across in rainbow fluorescence. Gritting his teeth, he let the tiny ship drift in the cloud of released garbage. He watched as a spread of proton torpedoes from the Luck winked into silent fiery starlets, accompanied by a fusillade of energy bolts from Leaft’s position in the turret. His finger itched on the power-up switch. Had the coralskippers seen his ship emerge and targeted him specifically, or was the near-miss merely coincidence? He would know in a few seconds. He had drifted clear of the shields, now, and though the A-wing had many non-factory modification
s, its shields were not upgraded. A single solid hit and he wasn’t merely out of the action, he was dead.

  But the skips were too busy to notice him, thanks to his crew. One was already carrying a livid wound where one of Leaft’s lasers had singed along the yorik coral, heating it to incandescence. As he watched, another took the fringe blast of proton torp. For a moment, he thought the fight would be over quickly.

  No such luck. He watched, drifting and feeling helpless as the skips closed to their most effective range and the tables turned. Leaft still needled at them with deadly accuracy, but the shots stopped dead in space meters from the organic starfighters. The Yuuzhan Vong ships didn’t have shields as such -- instead, the same dovin basals that furnished their gravitic drive opened tiny singularities which swallowed anything they touched -- concussion missiles, torps -- even the coherent light and particles of a blaster bolt vanished into them without a trace. They had their limits of course, and Republic pilots had learned a trick or two about slipping the occasional shot through those gravitic defenses, but it was no easy going. Meanwhile, the skips bombarded the No Luck Required with gobs of supercharged plasma, fired from what look for all the world like miniature volcanoes set in the rough surface of the coralskippers. Now they avoided the arc of the turret gun, diving in close. Vega couldn’t effectively fire missiles from that range, both because she wasn’t likely to hit and because the resulting concussion would damage the transport as well.

  “Go, Vega, go!” He muttered. “What are you waiting for?”

  But then the Luck’s drive kicked on and a stream of hot ions engulfed one of the coralskippers, whose pilot had clearly forgotten that an ion drive made an effective if short-range weapon in itself. The voids couldn’t swallow all of that. The skip flared orange, yellow, blue -- and was gone.

  “That’s it!” Uldir muttered, watching the No Luck Required dwindle with astonishing speed. The remaining skips went after her, of course, though they had little chance of catching her if she didn’t let them. Unless the Vong fighters were hyperdrive capable, which he didn’t think they were.