Edge of Victory 2 Rebirth

by Greg Keyes

  let it relax. "Have you told him that, Han?"

  "Nah. It might go to his head. I figure with that Force stuff he sort

  of knows anyway."

  "You above all people should know that sometimes those most sensitive

  to the Force can be the most clueless about people."

  "Well, you have a good point there," Han replied. "Sometimes I think-"

  Suddenly ships began reverting to sublight.

  "Heavy freighters," Han said, sitting up. "There's our convoy. Get

  ready, Princess of Blood."

  "You've always known how to flatter a girl, Han."

  "That escort," Han muttered after a little more study. "Two capital

  ships. I don't like it."

  "You don't think a heavy escort makes sense?" Leia asked. "They know

  we've been intercepting their shipping. They don't know about Karrde. Two

  capital ships and the starfighters they can carry would be plenty to deal

  with the Falcon."

  Han shot her a hurt look.

  "Hey, I'm just being realistic," Leia said.

  "So am I. You're right. Two capital ships seems like overkill."

  "Let's back off, then," Leia said. "There'll be other convoys."

  "The freighters. Scan them."

  "Ouch," Leia said. "Nasty thought."

  "Yeah. I have lots of those."

  "Well, they look clean. I don't think they're hiding a fleet.

  There is an odd radiation signature from that last cargo pod. Looks

  incidental, though."

  "What's going on up there?" Jacen called from the laser turret.

  "Your father is having second thoughts," Leia called back down.

  "Huh? I'm just being a little cautious," Han said.

  Leia frowned. "Seriously, Han. If you have misgivings, let's get out of

  here."

  Han sighed. "I just don't like it. Maybe I'm getting old." He leaned

  forward and tapped on the comm unit. He and Karrde had a limited-range

  tight-beam system set up that was unlikely to attract attention.

  Karrde appeared a few seconds later.

  "Doesn't smell good, does it?" Karrde said.

  "You read my mind. It's like they're trying too hard to look well

  prepared. If that makes any sense."

  "It doesn't, but I know what you mean. Maybe we should let this one

  pass."

  "Han-" Leia interrupted.

  "Just a minute," he said. "Okay, Karrde, maybe-"

  "Han!"

  "Hello!" Karrde said. "Well, at least we haven't completely lost it.

  Yet."

  "Huh?" Han stared where Leia's finger was pointed. A Yuuzhan Vong

  frigate had just dropped out of hyperspace, along with an interdictor like

  the one they had run into earlier. As he watched, coralskippers were already

  detaching.

  "Well," Han remarked. "Things get more interesting all the time, don't

  they?"

  THIRTY-FOUR

  "Looks like it was built for children," Tahiri commented as the three

  humans were escorted through Yag'DhuI Station.

  "Rebels built it during the war with the Empire," Corran informed her.

  "I've heard it said that they made it small to give stormtroopers a hard

  time if they ever invaded."

  "What's all that on the walls?" Every square centimeter seemed to be

  covered with fractal patterns and notation in some sort of script. Now and

  then something seemed vaguely familiar, more often not.

  "Givin decorative motifs, I'd guess. Rogue Squadron sure didn't paint

  this stuff."

  "Looks mathematical," Anakin said.

  The four Givin guards, who might have cleared things up, either didn't

  speak Basic or had no desire to talk. Soon enough, however, they were gently

  pressed into the largest room Anakin had seen thus far. It still wasn't very

  big, but tactical stations and a bank of holoprojectors with various views

  of the surrounding space made it somehow comforting after the Yuuzhan Vong

  ship. This was tech he was familiar with.

  The Givin waiting for them was not as comforting. His exoskeleton had

  been painted with many of the same symbols Anakin had seen on the walls.

  Anakin guessed him to be the same one who had demanded their surrender.

  "Dodecian Illiet, I presume," Corran said.

  The Givin rose. He spoke in oddly clattering Basic. It sounded somehow

  more mechanical than it had over the comm.

  "I am he," he replied.

  "Have I had the pleasure? You seem to know my name." "We made it our

  business to know who was in our space.

  You were among those waging war against Ysanne Isard

  from here."

  "We had the permission of your government when we were here."

  "Another spring tide cubed, another government," the Givin replied. "I

  did not recognize you myself-soft-bodied creatures are difficult for us to

  distinguish between, except at the rudest scale. Our computer system

  compared voice and facial records and estimated your identity at a 98.2

  percent probability. I confess, I was uncomfortable with such a high margin

  of error, but when I addressed you your reaction seemed to confirm the

  probability. Are you indeed he?" "I am Corran Horn, yes," Corran replied.

  "Any grievance you have against Rogue Squadron is mine. It does not adhere

  to these two."

  "The only grievance against you is entering our system and apparently

  beginning an attack run on our station. That, however, is a rather severe

  charge."

  "I apologize again," Corran said. "I hope it was noted that we did not

  fire on you, even when fired upon."

  "It is so noted and numerated. I shall be happy to hear you balance the

  equation before us."

  Anakin couldn't feel a trace of deception in the dodecian, and he was

  trying. That seemed a good sign, at least. "I think these are the right

  guys, Corran." Corran shot him a cautioning glance, but addressed his next

  sentence to the Givin.

  "We've come to warn you, Dodecian Illiet, that a Yuuzhan Vong fleet is

  preparing an invasion of this system. The ship we were piloting was a scout

  ship we captured. It was designed to come here unnoticed and contact some

  faction of your own people. This faction has apparently arranged for your

  defensive grid to collapse shortly, to facilitate the invasion."

  The Givin absorbed this silently, though Anakin got the impression he

  was also listening to someone else, commenting on what Corran was saying.

  "Explain in detail," the Givin finally said.

  "There's not much time-'

  "You leave us with too many unknown factors. More detail."

  Corran laid it all out, starting from their jump into the Yuuzhan Vong

  fleet, ending with their surrender. The Givin asked few questions, seeming

  content mostly to listen. When Corran was finished, the dodecian rapped his

  fingers against the table. They sounded almost as if they were made of

  ceramic.

  "You are Jedi," he said at last. "The Yuuzhan Vong seek you."

  "Yes."

  "Perhaps you tell me this only to save yourselves."

  "If you don't believe me, double-check your defensive grid."

  "It is being done," the Givin replied.

  "You'll have proof enough when the Yuuzhan Vong show up," Tahiri

  blurted.

  "True," the Givin said, apparently not caring which of the humans it

&nbs
p; was speaking to. "But even so, what use have they for our system?"

  "We think they wish to stage a strike at Thyferra, and perhaps then the

  Core."

  "Ah. So they have the same use for our system that you did, Corran

  Horn."

  "Umm . . . yes."

  "And perhaps as little impact on our way of life."

  "You think so? And yet these Givin I first spoke to were collaborating

  with the Yuuzhan Vong for some reason."

  "Yes, that is of concern," the dodecian said. "Our politics are . . .

  complex, and needn't concern you. However, though such collusion with the

  Yuuzhan Vong might have been designed to upset the Coalition of Factors,

  there is still no reason to suspect that the Yuuzhan Vong actually pose a

  threat to our species."

  "But," Anakin said, "they pose a threat to this station, and to your

  shipyards. The Yuuzhan Vong hate all technology."

  "Then perhaps we will hide the ships until they have gone."

  "Consider," Corran said. "Since I was last here you've taken pains to

  integrate with the economy of the New Republic. You crewed this station, as

  I understand it, so your system would no longer be a battleground for

  foreign powers. You expanded your shipbuilding capabilities. Will you risk

  sacrificing that?"

  "We certainly risk it if we engage the Yuuzhan Vong in combat. From

  what we understand, they can be quite formidable."

  Tahiri abruptly interrupted. "If you don't fight them, you'll be

  slaves," she said. Her voice had gone low and weird, as it had when she

  thought she was a Yuuzhan Vong, back on Yavin 4.

  "There is no reason to suspect that."

  Tahiri laughed. "I was a Yuuzhan Vong captive. I've seen what they do.

  Don't you get it? Right, they may be staging a strike on Thyferra from here.

  They may have ten reasons for being here. But I can tell you what one of

  them is."

  "Explain," the Givin said.

  "You. Your species. The Yuuzhan Vong make every tool they use from

  living things. They believe life was given to them by the gods to shape. You

  think they aren't interested in ready-made sentient beings who can survive

  in vacuum? The things they could make with you! They'll blow up this station

  and blast your ships and cities into ions. Then they'll take you and give

  you to their shapers. That will be the end of your complicated politics,

  Dodecian."

  "Emperor's bones, she's right," Anakin said.

  The Givin was silent for a half minute. "You really think this is

  true?" he asked at last.

  "If you let them in without a fight, you've got no chance," Tahiri

  assured him.

  The Givin paused again, and again Anakin got the impression he was

  listening to some far-off voice.

  "It is confirmed," the dodecian said. "The defensive grid has been

  sabotaged. Fortunately, it can be remedied."

  "Does that mean you'll fight?" Corran asked.

  "I do not know. That decision does not lie with me. But we have taken

  into account all you said."

  "Let me contact Coruscant," Corran said. "I can try to get more ships

  here, though I can't promise anything."

  "I will enter that request," the Givin said.

  "Another thing. What have you done with the Yuuzhan Vong we took

  captive?"

  "They are being questioned, to verify or dispute your story."

  "But Taan-" Tahiri began.

  "Will be fine," Corran said, cutting her off.

  "The prisoner will not be harmed," the dodecian confirmed. "Now. If you

  will accompany my aide, you will be provided with quarters and repast fit

  for your species."

  "Are we prisoners?"

  "I would prefer you did not think of yourselves as such. You have been

  allowed to retain your Jedi weapons. But I would also prefer you remain

  confined to the quarters we assign you. The station is delicate. Were there

  to be violence of any sort, it could well suffer explosive decompression."

  "I understand," Corran said stiffly.

  Anakin did, too. It was a polite threat. Try to escape- suck vacuum.

  That was an equation it didn't take a Givin to understand.

  "That is well," the dodecian replied.

  Anakin caught something, then, from the dodecian, something so tangible

  it almost formed words. If it were put into words, it would go something

  like, We have Jedi to bargain with. That also is a factor.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Though his mind and mood sped through an astonishing array of

  transmogrifications, the perfect-grutchin idea somehow remained fixed firmly

  in the faltering brain of Master Kae Kwaad. Nen Yim and all of her

  apprentices were pulled even from standard maintenance and set to the task

  of weeding through grutchin germ plasm in search of "perfect" structures,

  incubating larvae and discarding those that displayed any slight deviation

  of form or color that Kae Kwaad detected. During this time, the master

  became ever more offensive, at one point demanding that Nen Yim work in a

  state of complete undress. At another, he forced Suung to get down on hands

  and knees and act as his stool, a task fit only fora slave.

  Nen Yim considered the inventory of toxins that one might accidentally

  ingest or accidents that might befall one in the business of shaping. Her

  plans began to form themselves.

  Ona Shai gripped her hands into fists behind her back and shot Nen Yim

  a deep glare.

  "The capillaries of the maw luur are belching half-digested wastes in

  the Toohi sector," the prefect complained. "Many-Shamed Ones have sickened

  from the fumes and cannot perform their tasks to full efficiency. A few have

  died."

  "That is regrettable," Nen Yim replied. "However, I am uncertain why

  you discuss it with me."

  "Because your master will not admit me or speak to me via villip," the

  prefect snarled.

  "I am his adept, I can do nothing without his leave." "When you were

  the head shaper, things got done," Ona

  Shai said. "Since this master has arrived, conditions have

  only gotten worse."

  "If I agreed with that, I wouldn't be at liberty to say so," Nen Yim

  told her.

  "I don't ask you to gossip with me as if we were a pair of slaves," the

  prefect snapped. "I'm asking you to intercede, to place my words in the

  master's ear. To release you, at least-or even Suung Aruh-to tend to this

  problem with the maw luur."

  "I will certainly mention your concern." Ona Shai nodded tersely and

  turned her back on Nen Yim. She could see the ridged muscles of the

  prefect's back, as tight as the tendon-rigging of a landing sail. She also

  noticed that she had recently sacrificed three fingers to the gods.

  "This ship must last another year, at least, Adept. If it does, some of

  our habitants may survive to be offloaded onto a new worldship."

  "I will speak to the master," Nen Yim replied. "I can do no more."

  Ona Shai dropped her head. "Disgraced we may be, Nen Yim," she

  murmured. "But the gods cannot intend for us to die out here, so near the

  glory of conquest, able to see our new worlds but not to ever touch them.

  Death is nothing, but the ignominy..." "I shall speak
to him," Nen Yim

  repeated. Her path back to the shapers' quarters was a crowded one. The

  Toohi sector was not the only dispossessed part of the ship; the Phuur arm

  had become unlivably cold toward the tip. With nowhere else to go, Shamed

  Ones and slave refugees crowded the halls. Their rustle of conversation

  quieted where she passed, but behind her it began again, with an angrier

  note to it. Once or twice, she was certain she heard the word jeedai, and

  felt a quiver run along her spine. Tsavong Lah had killed nearly every slave

  and Shamed One who had been at Yavin 4, yet still somehow the legend of the

  Jeedai had spread even here.

  Was this yet another thing she would take the blame for?

  She found Kae Kwaad where she often did, clucking over the grutchin

  larvae, his useless hands drawn up onto his knees. He did not even glance at

  Nen Yim as she entered.

  "I've spoken to the prefect," she said. "Ona Shai urges that we turn at

  least some attention to the functioning of the ship. Toohi sector is now

  experiencing noxious fumes."

  "That's interesting," Kae Kwaad said thoughtfully. He pointed at one of

  the larvae, indistinguishable from the rest. "This one will have to be

  destroyed. Its color is off."

  "Indeed," Nen Yim said.

  "See to it," Kae Kwaad said. "I must rest now."

  "You should speak to the prefect," Nen Yim pressed.

  "What would a master shaper have to say to the likes of her?" Kwaad

  sneered. "You have spoken to her. It is enough."

  Nen Yim watched him go, then despondently turned her attention to the

  larva. She was carrying it toward the orifice, to feed it to the maw luur,

  when she suddenly understood that she was no longer considering the death of

  Kae Kwaad, but was committed to it. Not only that, but she had chosen the

  method of his death.

  Grutchins were used to breach the hulls of infidel ships and contained

  an acid powerful enough to eat through metal alloys. A single bite from one

  would be sufficient to end the life of her miserable master.

  So instead of destroying the pupa, she worked her own shaping on it.

  She removed neurons from the tiny brain of the grutchin, and with the

  protocol of Qah imprinted a simple series of reflexes keyed to the scent

  signature of Kae Kwaad, which she obtained from skin cells shed in his

  quarters. As a failsafe, she made the triggering of the reflexes dependent