by Greg Keyes
remained of the six who had initially been following her, but there remained
only three warriors.
For a moment, they stood like that. The warriors backed away a bit. The
leader was massive. His ears were cut into fractal patterns; great trenchlike
scars stood on his cheeks.
"I've heard of you, abomination," he snarled. "The one-who-was-shaped. Is
it true what they say? These pathetic maw luur excretions worship you?"
"I don't know anything about that," Tahiri said. "But I know when I see a
dishonorable fight. They were not only outnumbered, but poorly armed. How can
you call yourselves warriors, to attack in such a way?"
"They are Shamed Ones," the warrior sneered back.
"They are outside honor. They are worse than infidels; they are heretic
traitors, not to be fought but to be extermi-nated."
"You fear us," the tracker rasped. "You fear us because we know the
truth. You lap at Shimrra's feet, yet Shimrra is the true heretic. See how
this Jeedai has laid you low. The gods favor her, not you."
"If the gods favor her, they do not favor you," the war-rior snapped.
"They are delaying us," the tracker told Tahiri. She no-ticed he had
blood on his lips. "They delay us while another tsikvai arrives."
"Quiet, heretic," the war leader bellowed, "and you may yet live to
snivel a little longer. There are questions we would ask of you." His
expression softened. "Renounce your heresy. This Jeedai is a great prize. Help
us win her, and perhaps the gods will forgive you and grant you an honorable
death."
"No death is more honorable than dying by the side of a Jeedai" the
tracker answered. "Vua Rapuung proved that."
"Vua Rapuung," the warrior all but spat. "That story is a heretic's lie.
Vua Rapuung died in disgrace."
For answer the Shamed One suddenly bolted forward, so quickly he took the
leader by surprise, bowling into him be-fore he could raise his weapon. The
other two turned to help, but Tahiri danced forward, feinting at the knee and
then cutting high through the warrior's throat when he dropped his guard to
parry. She exchanged a flurry of blows with the second, though it ended the
same, with the warrior flopping lifeless to the ground.
She turned to find the tracker impaling the leader with his own
amphistaff. For a moment they stared at each other, the Shamed One and she.
Then the Yuuzhan Vong suddenly dropped to his knees.
"I prayed it was you!" he said.
Tahiri opened her mouth, but heard the stir of treetops that could only
be another flier arriving.
"Come on," she said. "We can't stay here."
The warrior nodded and bounded to his feet. Together they ran from the
clearing.
An hour or so later, Tahiri finally halted. The fliers see med to have
lost them for the time being, and the tracker had been gradually dropping
behind. Now he staggered against a tree and slid to the ground.
"A little farther," she said. "Just over here."
"My legs will no longer bear me," the tracker said. "You must leave me
for the time being."
"Just under this shelf of stone," she said. "Please. It may hide us from
the fliers if they sweep here." He nodded wearily. She saw he was clutching
his side, and that blood covered his flank.
They scooted up beneath the overhang.
"Let me see that," she said.
He shook his head. "I must speak to you first," he said.
"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"
His eyes widened. "No!" he said, so vehemently that blood sputtered from
between his lips. Then, more quietly,
"No. We thieved a ship from an intendant and came here to find the world
of prophecy. We saw you land-is this the place, one-who-was-shaped? Is this
the world the Prophet saw?"
"I'm sorry," Tahiri said. "I don't know what you mean. This is Dagobah. I
came here for... personal reasons."
"But it cannot be coincidence," the tracker said. "It cannot."
"Please," Tahiri said. "Let me see your wound. I know a little about
healing. Maybe I can..."
"I am dead already," the tracker gruffed. "I know this. But I must know
if I have failed."
Tahiri shook her head helplessly.
The tracker straightened a bit, and his voice strength-ened. "I am Hul
Qat, once a hunter. Or I was, until the gods seemed to reject me. I was
stripped of my title, my clan. I was Shamed. My implants festered and my scars
opened like wounds. I gave up hope and waited for dishonorable death. But then
I heard the word of the Prophet, and of the Jeedai Anakin..."
"Anakin," Tahiri whispered. The name twisted a blade in her.
"Yes, and you, whom Mezhan Kwaad shaped. And Vua Rapuung who fought-you
were there, were you not?"
A deep chill ran through Tahiri. She had been Riina, then, and Tahiri,
and she had nearly killed Anakin.
"I was there."
"Then you know. You know our redemption belongs with you. And now the
Prophet has seen a world, a world where there are no Shamed Ones because it
will redeem us, where the true way can be-" He coughed violently and slumped
again, and for an instant Tahiri thought he was al-ready dead. But then his
eyes turned toward her.
"My companions and I wanted to find the planet for our Prophet. One of
us, Kuhqo, had been a shaper. He used a genetic slicer to get access to an
executor's qahsa and steal its secrets. He found intelligence gathered about
the Jeedai, and evidence that there was some connection between you and this
world. Some of your greatest came here, yes? And now you. And so please, tell
me. Have I found it?"
He shuddered, and his eyes rolled. "Have I?" he begged again, so weakly
this time it might have been no more than a breath.
Tahiri reached out and took his hand. "Yes," she lied, not even knowing
exactly what lie she was telling. "Yes, you're right. You found it. Don't
worry about anything now." His eyes filled with tears. "You must help me," he
said. "I cannot take the news myself. The Prophet must know where this world
is."
"I will do it," Tahiri said.
This time she was not lying.
Hul Qat closed his eyes, and even without using the Force, Tahiri felt
him leave.
Tahiri glanced at the opening of the cave, so near, and she knew that was
not what she had come for at all. This was why she had come. The Force had
brought her here, to meet this man, to make this promise.
She rose. The fliers would find her if she remained still for too long.
She hoped they hadn't discovered her ship yet, but figured the odds were
against it, since they hadn't been looking for her and she had concealed it
pretty well. Even so, she might have a little trouble getting out of the
system, depending on how many and what sort of ships were or-biting overhead.
It didn't matter, though. She had a promise to keep. Even if she could
figure out exactly what she had promised.
TWO
The port shields of Mon Mothma collapsed and plasma punched through the
hull like a fist through flimsiplast. At the point of impact, matter became
ions, an
d supersonic droplets of molten hull metal sleeted through the next
four decks, arriving before the sound or vibration of impact, shredding the
frail life-forms within before their nervous systems had time to register
anything amiss. Behind that came a shock wave of superheated air expanding
with such fury that blast shields bent and warped, and the wave-front swept
the decks end to end, searing everything in its path. Two hundred sentient
beings winked out in an instant, and a hundred more in marginal areas fell-
perforated, burned, or both.
Then, like a giant taking back its breath, space sucked everything out
through the gaping hole, leaving vacuum be-hind, and quiet.
At the helm of the Star Destroyer, it was far from quiet. Claxons blared
and panicked young officers stuttered through emergency procedures. Simulated
gravity vanished, and someone shrieked.
Wedge Antilles closed his eyes as the illusion of weight faded and
reasserted itself.
I'm so tired of this,he thought.
He opened his eyes to a barrage of smaller plasma blasts aimed directly,
it seemed, at his face as a squadron of Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers made a run
straight at the bridge. Turbo-lasers flared three of them into debris. The
rest peeled away at the last instant to avoid impacting the still-functioning
bridge shields.
Wedge didn't even blink. The skips weren't their problem right now. That
would be the Yuuzhan Vong Dreadnaught analog that had just popped into
existence and blasted a hole in their side.
"Twenty degrees starboard and twelve above horizon," Wedge commanded.
"Now. Commence firing."
He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. "What else has joined our little
party?" he demanded.
"Four frigate analogs, sir," the lieutenant told him.
"Coralskippers-we're not sure how many flights, yet. And of course, the
Dreadnaught. Sir, I'd say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived."
"Yes. We'll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell Memory of Ithor
to watch our wounded flank. We'll have to slug this out."
His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the caves of
his reflexes, Wedge was a starfighter pilot. Sure, capital ships had
firepower, but they were so slow maneuvering. He'd feel a lot better in an X-
wing. He'd feel better without the weight of dead crew on his shoulders.
Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing two hundred...
But he wasn't in an X-wing, and when he'd come out of retirement as a
general, he'd known what he was getting himself into. So he watched, lips
pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung into view, as the Mothma's
turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma. Most of
the lasers arrowed straight, then abruptly curved into sharp hooks and
vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong vessel projected pulled
the light into them. About every third beam went through, however, scribbling
glowing red lines in the coral hull.
"Sir, the Memory is unable to come to our aid. She's engaged with one of
the frigates, and she's taking quite a beating."
"Well, get somebody there. We can't let them hit us in that flank again."
The controller looked up from his station. "Sir, Duro Squadron is
requesting the honor of protecting our flank." Wedge hesitated
infinitesimally. Duro Squadron was a bit; of a wild card, a collection of
pilots-some with military experience, some without-dedicated to the liberation
of their home system.
The fact that it was precisely that system they were fighting in right
now could be a problem, for various reasons.
But it didn't look like he had any other choice.
"Tell them yes, without our thanks," Wedge said.
"Three more ships just reverted, sir," Lieutenant Cel in-formed him, a
catch in her voice that might be the start of panic.
"That's it," Wedge said. "Or it had better be. Get me General Bel Iblis."
A moment later, a hologram of the aging general appeared.
"The reinforcements are here," Wedge told him. "Listening posts have them
coming through the Corellian Trade, Spine, so they're most likely our buddies.
"
"Is it too many to handle, General Antilles?" Bel Iblis asked.
"I hope not, sir. Is your force ready?"
"We're on our way. Good luck, General."
"And to you."
The image vanished. Wedge set his mouth grimly, watch-ing the battle
reports.
They had already spent a standard day in heavy fighting, driving through
the outer defenses of the Duro system in a matter of hours. The inner system
had put up more of a fight, but they'd been close to mopping up when Yuuzhan
Vong reinforcements arrived.
Wedge had been expecting the reinforcements-counting on them, really-but
they'd hit hard and fast. A reassess-ment of the situation put the odds
marginally in favor of the Yuuzhan Vong, which again was no surprise.
It was also okay-they hadn't come here to win, but they couldn't leave
yet, either.
"Prepare interdiction," Wedge said.
Four more Yuuzhan Vong frigates jumped into the Duro system, changing the
odds yet again.
"Sir?"
"Interdict," he said.
The great ship's gravity-well generators came on-line, as did those of
Memory oflth or and Olovin.
Positioned as they were around the Yuuzhan Vong force, they would prevent
the Vong from leaving the system, at least until the interdiction perimeter
was reduced to dust.
Of course, none of the Galactic Alliance ships could leave, either.
"Break off the attack and form up in containment posi-tions," Wedge said
calmly. "I don't want any of those ships reaching hyperspace."
"What about Duro, sir?" Cel asked.
"Duro is no longer our concern, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Cel said, clearly baffled.
Good. If his own people were confused, hopefully the Vong were more so.
The Alliance ships broke off their push toward the planet and retreated
into a broad hemisphere, putting the Yuu-zhan Vong fleet with the planet at
its back, handing them back the defensive advantage that Wedge's earlier push
had taken from them, but also trapping them more securely in the system.
"Hold the line," Wedge commanded. "We stick here." Spreading the battle
group so thinly gave the Yuuzhan Vong an obvious advantage, but the Vong ships
seemed to hesitate, perhaps suspecting another of the traps they had been so
often led into lately.
Still, caution was not natural to the Yuuzhan Vong, and they now clearly
had the advantage in numbers. Several de-stroyers began forming up for an
assault on the wall the Galactic Alliance had built.
"Do they have any interdictors of their own?" Wedge asked.
"No, sir."
"Good."
"Yes, sir. Sir, Commander Yurf Col is requesting com-munication."
Wedge repressed a sigh. "Put him on."
A moment later a holo of the Duros commander ap-peared. His flat face was
unreadable in terms of human expression, but Wedge had enough experience with
Duros to know he was radiating a cold fury.
"Commander
," Wedge said, nodding.
The Duros came bluntly to the point.
"What in the space lanes are you up to, General Antilles?
I've lost good pilots today, and now it appears you've given up our
target."
"I'm sure you are as aware of the situation as I am, Com-mander," Wedge
said. "The reinforcements make further assaults untenable."
"Then why are you interdicting? That makes no sense. I happen to know
that we have twice as many ships in re-serve. Summon them, and let's finish
this."
Patience, Wedge thought.
"Perhaps you aren't aware that the Yuuzhan Vong have means of tapping our
communications," he said mildly.
"Perhaps it hasn't occurred to you that you might have just passed on
important intelligence to the enemy."
"If we obliterate that enemy, what they learn will be of little
consequence. I don't know why you want to hold them here. They still don't
have a decisive advantage-we can win this, if we attack instead of-whatever
you're doing. And with a few reinforcements, we could certainly prevail."
"Commander, I understand this is your home system. I understand that for
you, this fight is personal. That is, in fact, one of the many reasons I am in
charge of this opera-tion and you are not. You agreed to fight under my com-
mand, and you will do so. Do you understand? "
"I understand you have bungled this from the start. We could have won in
the first few hours if you had followed my advice."
"That is your opinion," Wedge replied. "It is not mine, and mine is the
one that counts right now." The Duros's eyes narrowed. "When this is over,
Antilles-"
"I suggest you worry about the present, Commander. The Vong are trying to
punch through and open two fronts. If they succeed, this reduces our future
options considerably."
"You are the one limiting our options. Two more frigates..."
Wedge cut him off. "Get used to this idea, Commander," he said, "and get
used to it quickly-there are no reinforcements. Nor am I yet prepared to
abandon this system. Do your part, Commander, and everything will go well."
Col remained unconvinced. "I warn you, General Antilles," he snapped, "if you
don't explain this to me, I will force your hand."
"You will follow your orders, period," Wedge replied.
"General..." the Duros began, but Wedge waved the contact off and studied
