As were the Jedi. Somehow their passive role in Rapuung’s death had been transformed into a myth of hope for the Shamed Ones. If they ever knew …
“I can tell that you are moved,” Niiriit said to him. “Do you see now why we live as we do?”
He nodded, understanding for the first time that it was more than simply preferring squalor to indignity. “It is a powerful message.” He looked over to I’pan. “How did you come to hear it?”
“It was first told to me by one in my work detail on Duro,” he answered, picking at the stringy meat of a partially cooked hawk-bat. “Varesh had heard it from his crèche-mate who in turn had heard it from one of her friends shipped here from Sriluur. Since then I have heard it many times from many people—each time slightly different from the last.” Without the animation of his storytelling to hide behind, I’pan appeared once again awkward and self-conscious. “The version I have told is but one of many.”
“Then how can you be sure it is the truth?” Nom Anor asked.
“I cannot,” I’pan admitted. “I have no way of knowing whether the version I first heard, the one I have related to you, is more true than any of the others.” He paused to spit a bit of gristle into the fire, glancing up to Nom Anor as it sizzled in the flames. “But it is the one that feels right to me.”
There was a murmur of assent from those remaining. By the reddish light of the fire, Nom Anor could see their unblinking eyes still filled with the scenes that I’pan had related. The misshapen, dirty, rejected band clearly wanted the story to be true. If there was hope for Vua Rapuung, then there might be hope for them, too. Exactly what the hope was for, Nom Anor couldn’t tell. He didn’t know if the Shamed Ones expected the Jedi to swoop in and rescue them from their pitiful lives; perhaps they believed that by consciously mimicking the characteristics of the abominable enemy they might somehow become worthy of their farcical Force—whatever that was.
“Well?” Kunra asked in a challenging voice, from the far side of the circle. The disgraced warrior still didn’t fully trust the group’s latest addition, even though Nom Anor had gone out of his way to demonstrate nothing but worthiness in the time he’d spent with them. “What do you say, Executor?”
Nom Anor’s eye found Niiriit’s; they were shining almost supernaturally bright. There was an expression of such intensity on her face that he found it almost impossible to resist. “I say thank you, I’pan, for sharing your words with me. I am honored that you think me worthy of it. I would like very much to hear more about Vua Rapuung and the Jedi, when we have the opportunity.”
Niiriit smiled, her gaze still locked on his. He offered a smile in return, and realized only as he did that it was genuine. Of all the small band living in this underground camp, Niiriit was the only one with a mind keen enough to interest him. In the weeks since his arrival, he had enjoyed his talks with this ex-warrior the most.
Kunra, on the other hand, offered nothing more than a contemptuous grunt as he stood to leave the fireside group. As he watched him move away to the shadows, Nom Anor understood that Kunra might very well be jealous of the fact that a higher-ranking male was entering the group, thus usurping his own position. If this was true then it was stupid, although not unexpected.
And perhaps, Nom Anor thought, with so many gathered, now might be the best time to address the matter …
“You do not want me here, do you, Kunra?” he called after the ex-warrior. “You do not believe I am worthy of having Vua Rapuung’s tale entrusted to me.”
Kunra stopped and faced him, his body language defensive. “I merely reserve my judgment, Executor,” he said. “As is my right.”
“Your judgment of me?”
“Of you,” Kunra confirmed, nodding. “I argued against you hearing the story of Vua Rapuung. It is the one thing in our lives that gives us hope. Our faith that the way of the Jeedai is a better one—a fairer one for all, not just those enslaved by the old gods—sustains us when all reason tells us that we should have given up long ago. Perhaps one day, by virtue of that faith, we will have the chance to regain our self-respect and emerge from the holes in which we cower. But you—given half a chance, I am sure you would defile it in a second if you thought it would help restore you to power.”
“Are you suggesting that I would betray you?” Nom Anor asked. “You and all of those here who have taken me in and helped me?”
The ex-warrior’s muscles sensed, his scars glistening in the light. “That is exactly what I am saying, Nom Anor.”
Nom Anor stood now, also, and the Shamed Ones closest to him took an unsteady step back. Although much older and smaller than Kunra, he couldn’t back down now. To do so would be to admit that he was lying. Unfortunately, he had few other options. If he couldn’t talk the ex-warrior out of a fight—and he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had in Shimrra’s court without being able to do that—there was always the plaeryin bol. Or if he hadn’t misjudged the leader of the Shamed Ones …
She rose to her feet and stepped between the two. “I will not allow this,” she said, her voice firm and deadly as an amphistaff.
“It’s my right to challenge him,” Kunra hissed through his teeth.
“I thought we had abandoned the old ways, Kunra,” Niiriit said. “Now you wish to embrace them again? You cannot have it both ways.”
“I understand that, but—”
“No buts, Kunra. Which is it to be? You are either with us or against us. And the same goes for you, Nom Anor,” she said, suddenly turning on him. “We are too few to fight among ourselves.”
Nom Anor bowed his head to her, partly to hide a smile of triumph. No, he hadn’t misjudged Niiriit at all. “I apologize,” he said to her. He then turned to his challenger and did the same. Playing the part of peacemaker was a new experience for him, but it was no different from any other role he had played in the past. He was a good actor. “It appears to be your right to mistrust me, Kunra. Instead of fighting you, I shall do all in my power to convince you that you are mistaken in your mistrust. Is that enough to at least allow peace between us?”
“For now,” the warrior growled.
Niiriit nodded. “Good enough,” she said. “Now sit, both of you. You’re making me weary just looking at you.”
“I think,” Nom Anor said, “that I might use this excuse to retire for the night. I have heard much that requires consideration, and I am not as young as our friend here.”
“Of course. Sleep well, Nom Anor. We shall discuss the Jeedai on another occasion.”
“I hope so.” He glanced quickly at Kunra as he spoke; the ex-warrior was grumpily thoughtful, but his anger had been successfully defused by Niiriit. That was good; Nom Anor didn’t want to be stabbed in his sleep. Nodding good night to those still around the fire, he picked his way to the top of the ventilation shaft and descended the spiraling ramp they had built within it. The gradient wasn’t steep, and the curvature was such that he completed a circle once every thirty meters or so. Within the circle of the walkway, rooms had been fashioned, two per level, that served as either crude quarters for the Shamed Ones or storerooms for the goods they had pilfered from the surface. The way was lit by the occasional lambent nest anchored to the shiny, layered surface that had been laid down by the chuk’a waste processor. It felt as if he were walking down the inside of an enormous shell.
He descended until he reached his room. Being the latest addition to the group, he lived in the quarters that had been most recently completed. There was still a tang in the air of the organic processes that had created the structure, and inside he had only the most rudimentary furniture: a rounded chest he had carved from a chuk’a egg and a dirt mattress. Nevertheless, it was still more comfortable than anything else he’d had since entering Yuuzhan’tar’s underworld.
Nom Anor waved the lights out and lay on the bed, still clothed in the ragged remains of the cloak and uniform he’d been wearing when he had arrived. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he had muc
h to think about. The story of Vua Rapuung and the Jedi was an opportunity he had never dreamed of finding in the depths of Yuuzhan’tar. The strange, forbidden notions passing from mouth to ear offered him hope in the most unlikely of places. The whispers circulating through the Yuuzhan Vong underground did so like an asteroid orbiting a black hole, gaining momentum with each revolution, propelled by nothing more than the need to have something to believe in. The Shamed Ones might have brought this whisper into existence spontaneously, with nothing to back it up, simply to satisfy their terrible need for direction. But he knew the events of the Vua Rapuung story were based broadly in truth, and that made them so much stronger.
The Jedi aren’t necessarily abominations. They can redeem as easily as they could kill.
He would never have heard such whispers from his usual vantage point, far above the forlorn creatures he currently associated with. Shimrra had no idea just how close to his heart the heresy was stabbing. If Nom Anor could follow the whispers to their source, if he could expose the heresy and bring to justice the person or persons responsible for spreading the word about Yavin 4, maybe then he could regain his previous standing—and perhaps be stronger than ever.
Thank you, Vua Rapuung, forgiving me hope.
Nom Anor smiled into the darkness as he thought about Kunra’s accusation that he would sell out his fellow Shamed Ones and all they stood for in a second if he thought it would help him achieve his goals. The ex-warrior was right, of course—except, perhaps, that he wouldn’t need an entire second to do it.
* * *
“You can’t be serious, Leia!”
Jaina rolled her eyes as she walked in on yet another of her parents’ arguments—this one, it seemed, about the mission’s itinerary. They were in the Millennium Falcon’s main hold, poring over charts.
“We have to start somewhere,” her mother responded. “And this seems as good a place as any.”
“But couldn’t the decision have been made based on the toss of a credit or something, rather than some obscure and anonymous message?”
“What’s going on?” Jaina asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Someone managed to get into the Falcon’s computers and leave us instructions on where to go if we want to walk into a trap,” her father said hotly. “Your mother has taken it as some kind of portent and has decided to make it our first port of call.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re not lowering the discussion by resorting to sarcasm,” Leia shot back with some of her own. “And I admit that it’s all very suspicious, but that just makes me all the more curious to follow it up.”
“But there’s no sense to it!” Han went on. “I mean, are you trying to get us all killed?”
Leia scowled at her husband, but she ignored the remark. “Of course it makes sense, Han. The Galactic Alliance has lost contact with the Koornacht Cluster, and someone needs to check it out. That’s exactly our brief, isn’t it? So where’s the problem?”
“Where’s the problem?” Jaina’s father leaned heavily over the map displays, his jaw tightening. “We’ve lost contact with Galantos and Whettam because the Yevetha have taken advantage of our little distraction and are on the move again. And you want us to go barging in there with a handful of X-wings and a rusty old frigate? There’s the problem, Leia.”
Jaina bristled at Twin Suns Squadron being described as a “handful of X-wings,” but she didn’t say anything. Her parents needed to fight this one out, and it was better if she stayed out of the line of fire.
Leia straightened, folding her arms in front of her. It was a clear message: she had no intentions of backing down.
“They’re fine words coming from Han Solo,” she said. “And do you have any better suggestions to go with your derision, Han?”
“Sure I have,” he said, but with less self-assuredness than a moment earlier. “What’s happening in Corellia is still anyone’s guess—and then there’s the Corporate Sector. That’s practically next door to Mon Cal, and—”
“So the Senate hardly needs to send us, then, do they?”
“Maybe, Leia, but …” Han raised his hands in frustration and turned away. “Anywhere but N’zoth!”
Facing her husband’s back, Leia’s stony determination faltered. Jaina was surprised to see it, but she could understand why. The intensely xenophobic Yevetha had kidnapped and tortured her father for weeks, some years back, and would have killed him had he not been rescued by Chewbacca and Chewie’s son Lumpawarrump.
“The last we heard, their shipyard was fully functional,” Leia said, adopting a more diplomatic tone. “They’re extremely capable engineers. They’ll fight the Yuuzhan Vong, if they’re not fighting them already.”
“And then they’ll turn on us,” Han said, facing her again. “And the Fia, if they haven’t already been exterminated. Why not send someone from the Smugglers’ Alliance?”
“We need someone we can trust to do the Galactic Alliance’s work, Han, not someone who will be looking for a quick profit.”
Han looked as though he wanted to protest this, but he knew he didn’t have much of an argument on this score.
Leia put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Look, Han, I’ve discussed the security aspects with Captain Mayn and—”
“You asked Todra before you brought it up with me?”
“And,” Leia continued without answering the question, “it’s not like last time. We’re not going to pick a fight with them, and if they try it with us, then we’ll just leave.”
Han sighed now. “All right, Leia. I can see how it makes sense from your point of view. It’s a flashpoint, and we need to be there to make sure it doesn’t spread. Perfectly understandable. But what if it’s Jaina they capture, this time? Or you?”
“It won’t be me, Dad,” Jaina said softly, confidently. “I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”
Han stared at his wife and daughter, wanting to argue but realizing he couldn’t win this one. “All right,” he said after a few seconds, his eyes narrowing sternly as he pointed his finger to each of them, “but you just remember that this wasn’t my idea.”
“I’m sure you’ll be quick to remind us, should something go wrong.” Leia smiled, kissing her husband’s cheek briefly before getting back to work. There were many details to finalize before their departure.
Barely had she taken half a dozen steps from Han when the sound of boots could be heard clomping up the landing ramp and into the Falcon.
“Anyone home?” a male voice called.
“In here, Kenth,” Leia said, recognizing the Jedi’s voice.
Kenth Hamner stooped slightly as he came into the room. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Seeing his somber expression, Leia stepped over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Kenth? What’s happened?”
“Not Kashyyyk,” Han said, going pale. The Wookiee homeworld had recently been under threat by the Yuuzhan Vong.
“No, not Kashyyyk, I’m pleased to say.” Hamner’s expression didn’t look particularly pleased. “We’ve just heard that the Imperial Remnant is under attack. Bastion and Muunilinst have been devastated. The offensive is expected to continue toward Yaga Minor as soon as the captured territories have been secured. Subspace and HoloNet networks are down.” He turned to Leia when she opened her mouth to interrupt, as if knowing what she was about to ask. “We have no news of survivors, I’m afraid.”
Leia’s mouth closed in a thin line as she looked at her husband. “Jade Shadow jumped right into a war zone.”
“They had no way of knowing,” Han said. “It was just dumb luck.”
“All we can do,” Hamner said soberly, “is hope they weren’t caught in the battle. If they managed to retreat to a safe distance, then there’s no reason why their mission should be endangered.”
Jaina closed her eyes, her mind reaching out through the Force, seeking her twin brother. The distance between them was almost incomprehensible, but they’d fe
lt each other before across far greater gulfs. When she called his name, she didn’t receive a reply, but she did feel an echo. He was there.
She opened her eyes and faced her mother. “Jacen’s alive,” she said.
Leia nodded. “Yes. And I would’ve felt it if anything had happened to Luke. But what about the others? And the Empire itself? If the Yuuzhan Vong have finally made a move on it, then that entire area is now unsafe. With the fleet at Bastion out of the way, they can push on into the Unknown Regions unchecked. From now on, no-place will be safe.”
“Not even the Chiss,” Jaina said. “We know the Vong have been harrying them from the outer edges of the galaxy. Now they’ll be caught in a pincer grip.”
“Only if the Empire falls,” Hamner said. “It’s too soon to say for sure one way or the other. This might only be a preemptive strike, simply warning us against using the Imperial Remnant in some sort of rearguard action against them.”
“Which is precisely what we were thinking of doing,” Han said with a grimace.
“Preemptive doesn’t necessarily mean decisive,” Hamner responded. “We know the Vong are stretched thin. To mount a major attack like this must have cost them dearly elsewhere.”
“Perhaps we should step up our strike-and-run tactics in other areas,” Leia said. “It might encourage them to withdraw the offensive.”
Hamner nodded. “I know Cal and Sien are doing just that. It will also help take the hysterical edge off some of the calls to step up the attack, too.”
“As long as we don’t play into their hands.” Leia nodded unhappily. “I just hate not knowing what’s happened to Jade Shadow. We could help them if we knew they were in trouble.”
Remnant: Force Heretic I Page 14
