Edge of Victory 2 Rebirth

by Greg Keyes

  we intend to continue our conquest of their galaxy-unless we finish here, we

  will have nothing to show for that tactical loss."

  Qurang Lah showed his sharpened teeth. "The loss is yours, Executor,"

  he said. "You may be sure that the war-master will hear a most complete

  version of how you've bungled this entire business." His eyes narrowed. "Let

  me speak to Shok Choka."

  Nom Anor kept his face impassive. "He was slain by the Jeedai. All of

  your men were."

  The commander's face pulled into an incredulous frown. "All of them?

  And yet you made it safely back to your ship?"

  "I was separated from your warriors and the jeedai when the Givin

  emptied their station of atmosphere."

  Qurang Lah held his stare for another moment. "Yes," he said softly.

  "The warmaster will hear much from me."

  Before Nom Anor could begin another rebuttal, the villip cleared,

  leaving him to pace the decks of his ship in frustration.

  Not to mention trepidation.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Jaina climbed out of her X-wing wearily, feeling far older than her

  eighteen years. She wanted to get in bed, turn the lights out, and stay

  there.

  She wanted Jacen, and Anakin, and her mother and father. She wanted to

  hear C-3PO going on inanely, and she wanted to see Aunt Mara, to find out

  what was wrong with her.

  What she got instead was Kyp Durron, climbing out of his starfighter, a

  grin smearing across his face as he walked toward her.

  In a way, he would do.

  She watched him come, with that stupid smile, until he was close

  enough. Then she slapped him, hard.

  His smile faded, but otherwise he didn't react.

  "You knew," she said. "You knew, and you lied, and you made me a part

  of it."

  The other pilots, in the middle of postbattle jubilation, were starting

  to stare.

  "What are you talking about?" Lensi asked. Jaina had seen the Duros

  coming from the corner of her vision.

  "Tell him, Kyp. Tell him what his friends died for. Tell them rhat

  thing we just paid so dearly to blow up wasn't a superweapon. That it wasn't

  a weapon at all."

  Kyp straightened and folded his arms. "Everything the Vong possess is a

  weapon," he said.

  "B-but the footage we saw in briefing," Lensi stammered. "I saw what it

  did. It pulled fire out of Sernpidal's sun."

  "No," Jaina said. "That's what it looked like, but that's not what

  happened. The Yuuzhan Vong set up a relay system of hundreds of dovin

  basals, hung in a long corridor

  all the way to the sun. It was just a big, unwieldy linear accelerator,

  a way to get hydrogen and helium to use in their shipbuilding, or something.

  But a giant gravitic weapon? No. Kyp made that up, to get us here."

  While talking to Lensi, she hadn't taken her gaze off Kyp's face. Nor

  did she now.

  "What was it, Kyp? What did we just blow up? Or do you even know?"

  "I know," Kyp said. "It was a worldship, a new one. If it's any

  comfort, it wasn't finished, and there probably weren't many Vong aboard."

  "Then why did you want it blown up? Why did you lie?" Lensi asked.

  Kyp's face hardened. "The Yuuzhan Vong have destroyed, conquered, and

  raped our planets. They enslave civilian populations, and they sacrifice our

  citizens by the thousands. But until today, the only Vong we've hurt are

  those who come against us-the warriors. I wanted to hit them where they

  live, to let them know their civilians aren't sacrosanct if ours aren't."

  "Then why an empty worldship?" Jaina asked. "Why not just pick a full

  one and blow it up, Kyp? You can't tell me you would be squeamish about

  that."

  "You're wrong about that, Jaina, and I think you know it," Kyp said.

  "But sure, from what I've managed to find out we could have probably blasted

  one of their older ships. But that wouldn't have really hurt them. This

  does. Their worldships are dying, and a lot of them aren't in good enough

  shape to make it anywhere they can let people off. This one would have been

  hyperdrive capable, and it could have housed the populations of many of

  their smaller worldships. Now they have to choose between letting their

  children die in space or expending military resources to move them to

  conquered planets. Either way, it only helps us fight them-and it sends a

  message."

  "Yeah, right," Jaina snapped. "It sends the message that we're not any

  better than they are."

  "We were here first. It's our galaxy. If they had come peacefully, we

  would have given them the space they

  needed." He lifted his chin and raised his voice to address everyone in

  the room. "You should all be proud of what you did today. You fought against

  terrible odds and you won. You struck a blow against the Vong, and a good

  one. This was for Sernpidal, for Ithor, for Duro, for Dubrillion, for

  Garqi-for every planet the Vong have despoiled."

  To Jaina's utter astonishment, he got cheers. Not from everyone-she saw

  Gavin and Wedge across the room, their faces tight and angry. But nearly

  everyone.

  "Ask them, Jaina. You don't really have a homeworld. You were raised

  all over the galaxy. Most of these people know what it's like to have had a

  home, and too many of them know what it's like to lose one, thanks to the

  Yuuzhan Vong. You think they mind evening the score a little?"

  "I think you owed us the truth. Maybe we would have decided to help you

  if you had been straight with us."

  "And maybe you wouldn't have. As long as you thought it was a

  superweapon, you were ready to go. But we've set them back here more than

  the destruction of any weapon. By the time they grow another one-"

  "-their children start dying. Right. I get that. Bravo, Kyp. Well done.

  Except you used me. You made me tell your lie, and now the blood of every

  Yuuzhan Vong child who suffocates in space is on my hands, too."

  "There's more to this universe than Jaina Solo, believe it or not," Kyp

  said, very quietly. "I'm sorry you feel used, and I wish I hadn't had to lie

  to you. But I did have to. You wouldn't have helped me otherwise."

  "And I'll never help you again," Jaina said. "You can count on it. If

  you were dying of thirst on Tatooine, I wouldn't even spit on you." And with

  that she left, found the stateroom she had been assigned, turned out the

  lights, and wept.

  The next day, with Gavin Darklighter's permission, she left to find the

  Errant Venture.

  FORTY-SIX

  "It's a weird thing," Corran said, as the Errant Venture grew larger

  through the transparisteel lozenge of the Givin ship.

  "What's that?" Anakin asked.

  "Being happy to see my father-in-law's ship."

  "Ah." Anakin tried to smile, but he couldn't. He'd been searching for

  Aunt Mara in the Force. The results were ambiguous-at times he thought he

  had her, but at other times it didn't seem like her at all. The feeling that

  she was dying had scarred his mind, and deep in his gut he feared she was

  already dead and his occasional sense of contact was merely a residual

  imprint of her living self.
r />   He turned to go back and wake Tahiri and found her standing only a

  meter or so away. She gave him a brief smile.

  "Uh . .. hi," he said.

  "Hi," Tahiri replied. Her eyes refused to settle on his for long, but

  he could feel her uncertainty matching his own. "Looks like we're almost

  there," she pointed out unnecessarily.

  "Yeah." Why did his fingers feel like hammers and his legs like spongy

  pillars? This was Tahiri.

  "And we can finally get out of these things for good," Tahiri went on,

  "I never want to wear a vac suit again as long as I live."

  "Right. Me either." The suits had made a recurrence of what had

  happened in the locker on Yag'Dhul Station impossible. What would happen

  when they were in shirtsleeves again?

  It was a nearly terrifying thought.

  "You think Mara's okay?"

  Anakin shook his head. "No."

  "She will be. She has to be."

  "Yeah." A long, awkward silence followed as they drew near the Errant

  Venture. Corran was busily trying to prove they were who he said they

  were-despite the fact that they weren't in the same ship they'd left in-so

  he could get clearance to enter the docking bay.

  "Hey, Anakin?" Tahiri asked.

  "Yeah?"

  "What's going on? You've hardly said two words to me since we left

  Yag'Dhul."

  "We were kind of busy, and I... I'm worried about Aunt Mara."

  "Uh-huh. Look, have you changed your mind?"

  "About what?"

  "About . . . you know. Are you sorry now? I mean, we were about to die

  and everything. It's perfectly understandable, because we've been best

  friends for so long, but maybe now you're thinking I'm too young, and

  remembering all the trouble I've gotten you into, and, well, maybe we ought

  to just forget. . ." Her green eyes did meet his then, with a sort of ionic

  jolt.

  "Tahiri..."

  "Right. I get it. No harm done."

  "Tahiri, I haven't changed my mind. I'm not sorry at all. I don't know

  exactly what it all means, and we are young, both of us. But I don't regret

  kissing you. And, um ... it wasn't just because I thought we were dying."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, okay then."

  He was trying to decide what to say next without totally messing up the

  situation, when a staggering pain suddenly jolted through him.

  "Aunt Mara!" he gasped. "Aunt Mara!" Another blinding wave of agony

  made his knees buckle.

  The instant they were docked, Anakin bolted from the ship, pushing past

  the Jedi students who had come out to greet them, running as fast as he

  could toward the medical lab. In the turbolift, the worst agony yet ripped

  through him so powerfully that he was forced to block himself off from it

  before he fainted.

  Outside the medical facility he found Mirax, Booster, Valin, Jysella,

  and half a dozen other people jittering around. When Anakin burst onto the

  scene, all eyes turned toward him.

  "Aunt Mara!" he gasped. "What's wrong with Aunt Mara?"

  Mirax embraced him. "Mara is fine," she said. "Where in space have you

  been? Is Corran with you?"

  Anakin brushed off the question. "But the pain . . ." he began.

  "It's normal," Mirax replied. "Corran?"

  "Corran's fine," Anakin said. "He'll be right here. Mirax, I felt her

  dying."

  "She was. Now she's not. Somehow, in the Force, she and Luke . . . We

  don't know how. But the Yuuzhan Vong disease is gone. Completely."

  "Then the pain-"

  "Natural. Hideous, overwhelming, but natural. Believe me, I've

  experienced it twice."

  "You mean . .. ?"

  A few moments later the door sighed open. Cilghal stood there, looking

  very, very tired.

  "You can come in now," she said. "A few at a time, please."

  Anakin and Mirax went in first.

  Mara still looked sick. Her face was sallow, and sweat sheened her

  brow. But she was smiling, her jade eyes filled with an unfamiliar sort of

  happiness. Luke knelt at the bedside, holding her hand.

  "Luke, Mara," Mirax said. "Look who I've brought."

  "Anakin!" Luke said. "You're okay! Are Corran and Tahiri with you?"

  "Yeah," Anakin said absently, his attention fixed on the small bundle

  in the crook of Mara's arm. He stepped closer.

  Small dark eyes glanced vaguely in his direction, passing over him as

  if he didn't exist.

  "Wow," he breathed.

  "Hello, Anakin," Mara said weakly. "I knew you'd be here."

  "I thought you were . . . Can I come closer?"

  "Sure."

  Anakin stared down at the newborn. "Are they all that ugly?" he

  blurted.

  "You'll want to rephrase that," Mara said, "after what I just went

  through. Think in the general direction of antonyms."

  "I mean, he's-"

  "His name is Ben," Luke said.

  "He's beautiful. In the Force, and ... But he's all sort of squinched

  and wrinkly."

  "Just like you were," Mara said.

  "And you're really okay?"

  "I've never, ever been better," Mara told him. "Everything is perfect."

  She looked down at her child. "Perfect." As weary as it was, her smile had

  enough wattage to light all of Coruscant.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Nen Yim walked with bowed head through the labyrinthine corridors of

  the great ship. Sculpted pylons of ancient but living bone raised the vast

  ceilings, and choirs of rainbow qaana hummed hymns to the gods through their

  chiti-nous mandibles. Rare paaloc incense-forbidden to all but the highest

  of the high-remembered the ancient home-world of the Yuuzhan Vong to the

  hindmost recesses of her brain.

  Kae Kwaad slunk beside her, strangely subdued.

  In the center of the vast chamber, they came to a raised dais of

  pulsing, fibrous hau polyps, and atop it, shrouded in darkness and

  translucent lamina, reclined an enormous figure. Only his eyes were clearly

  visible, glowing maa'it implants that shifted through the colors of the

  spectrum. Other than that was only an irregular shadow that sent shivers of

  worship aching through her body. For a terrible moment she believed she had

  been brought into the very presence of Yun-Yuuzhan himself.

  Kae Kwaad prostrated himself. "I have brought her, Dread Shimrra."

  The eyes burned into her, but it was long, tremulous heartbeats before

  the figure spoke.

  "Would you look upon me, Adept?" he said, his whispered voice surely as

  majestic and terrible as that of the god he resembled. "Would you look upon

  me and die?"

  Nen Yim supplicated. "I would if you wish it, Dread Lord."

  "You are a heretic, Nen Yim. Bred of heretics."

  "I have done what I thought I must for the Yuuzhan Vong. I am prepared

  to die for my transgressions."

  Shimrra made a noise, then-a rustling, vaporous noise that she only

  gradually recognized as laughter.

  "You have seen the eighth cortex."

  "I have gazed within it, Lord."

  "And what did you see there? Speak."

  "I saw . . . the end. The end of the protocols. The end of the secrets.

  Besides those few marvels the gods have gifted us with since our arri
val at

  the infidel galaxy, the store of our knowledge is nearly exhausted."

  "So it is," Shimrra acknowledged. "You alone of all shapers know this."

  Something that was not a natural hand gestured at Kae Kwaad from the

  shadows. "Onimi. Reveal yourself."

  "Yes, Dread Lord." Kae Kwaad-no, Onimi-capered, then. With a twist, the

  dead shaper hands dropped from his wrists, revealing ordinary Yuuzhan Vong

  digits. He stripped off the masquer that hid his face, and bile rose in Nen

  Yim's throat at what she saw there.

  The man she had thought a master shaper was deformed. Not scarred or

  modified as sacrifice to the gods, but misshapen as one born cursed by them.

  One eye lolled lower on his face than the other, and part of his skull was

  oddly distended. His mouth was a twisted slash. His long, lean limbs

  twitched with a sort of mad delight.

  "Onimi is my jester," Shimrra murmured. "He amuses me. Sometimes he is

  useful. I sent him to watch you and fetch you."

  "You see, my sweet Nen Tsup?" Onimi crowed. "You see?"

  But Nen Yim did not see. She did not see at all.

  "Silence, Onimi. Prostrate yourself and be silent."

  The jester flattened himself against the coral deck and whimpered like

  a fearful beast.

  "Yun-Yuuzhan shaped the universe from his own body," Shimrra intoned,

  his voice now modulated like a sacred chant. "In the days following his

  great shaping, he was weak, and in that time Yun-Harla tricked him into

  giving

  her some of those secrets. These she passed to her handmaiden,

  Yun-Ne'Shel, and thence to me. I am the gateway of that knowledge. But

  Yun-Yuuzhan never gave up all of his secrets. Many he still holds for us,

  free of Yun-Harla's deceptions. They await us. I have seen it in a vision."

  "I still do not understand, Dread Lord. The eighth cortex-"

  "Silence!" The voice raised suddenly to a mind-numbing rumble, and Nen

  Yim found herself as prostrate as Onimi. She prepared herself for death.

  But surprisingly, when he resumed, Shimrra's voice was again mild. "In

  my vision, Nen Yim, you were raised to the rank of master. In my vision, you

  quested for the knowledge that Yun-Yuuzhan holds out. He offers it, but he

  demands sacrifice and labor to obtain it. He requires that you pursue your

  heresy."

  Nen Yim, afraid to speak, lay quiet, slowly understanding that she was