by Greg Keyes
"That's interesting. What do you think they are?"
"I've no idea. I don't have even a guess to use as a starting point."
"How about this?" Tahiri mused. "Here's a guess for you. Your gods are
actually a misunderstanding of the Force."
"The energy field you Jeedai claim informs your powers?" She sounded
dubious.
"You don't believe in the Force?"
"In the sense that it's clear you draw on some sort of energy to perform
your tricks, as your machines draw on a power source, yes. That does not mean
it is some all-pervasive mys-tical energy with a will of its own, as you
Jeedai seem to believe. Indeed, if it is, how can you explain the fact that
the Yuuzhan Vong do not exist in the Force?"
"Well, that's a mystery," Tahiri said. "But the Force isn't like a
battery. It's a lot bigger than that."
"So you believe. If so, perhaps your Force and our gods are both
misunderstandings of something that somehow encompasses us all."
Tahiri felt a little chill. That was what Anakin had be-lieved, or very
near.
"You believe that?" she asked.
"Certainly not," the shaper replied. "But... thank you."
"For what?"
"At least I have a guess to proceed from, for now." She glanced about.
"Where is Corran Horn?"
"He's taking a break before the next jump to hyperspace. What did you
need to see him about?"
"I don't want to raise any undue alarm, but I think some-thing is wrong
with the ship."
"Wrong?"
"Yes. The space-folding function of the dovin basals seemed erratic in
the last jump. I checked them, and there may be a problem."
"What sort of problem?"
"I think they are dying."
SIXTEEN
"Bilbringi system in ten minutes," Commander Raech of Mon Mothma
announced. "Prepare for iminent combat."
Wedge clasped his hands behind his back, didn't like the feel of it, and
crossed his arms in front of him instead, staring into the nothing of
hyperspace, wondering what would greet them when they decanted.
"You fought at Bilbringi before, didn't you sir?" Lieu-tenant Cel asked.
"Against Thrawn?"
Wedge gave her a tight grin with little real humor behind it. "Are you a
student of ancient history, Lieutenant?"
"No, sir-I was ten during the blockade of Coruscant. I remember it very
well."
"Well, yes, Lieutenant, I did fight here at Bilbringi-as an X-wing pilot.
I don't think I ever got anywhere near Thrawn."
"No, sir. You divided Thrawn's fleet by attacking the shipyards, didn't
you?"
Wedge looked at her, puzzled. "Now you're just sucking up," he said. "Who
would remember that?" he asked.
"They made a big deal of it on the vids," she said, a little abashed. "It
was a great victory."
"It was nearly a terrible defeat," Wedge said. "We got decanted early by
Imperial interdictors, too far from the shipyards. Thrawn wasn't even supposed
to be there at all-we'd set it up ten different ways to make it look like we
were going to hit Tangrene. But Thrawn was spooky that way. Absolutely
brilliant. If he hadn't been assassinated by his own body-guard during the
battle, there's no way we would have won."
"You sound as if you admired him, sir."
"Admired him? Sure I did. He was a different sort of enemy."
"Different from the Yuuzhan Vong, you mean, sir?"
"Different from the Vong, the Emperor, any other Grand Admiral-from
anyone," Wedge replied.
Cel nodded as if she knew what he meant. "What do you suppose Thrawn
would make of the Yuuzhan Vong, sir?"
"Ground Vong, probably-if he had a few examples of; their art."
"Yes, sir," Cel said. She paused. "I've heard good things i about Admiral
Pellaeon."
Wedge nodded briefly. "He was here, too. Of course, he; was with Thrawn,
fighting for the Empire. I'll have to ask him how he remembers that whole
thing, once this is over." It's like some weird reunion, he thought. Pash was
here then, as well, a starfighter pilot like me. Now he was the general in
charge of the flight group, Pash Cracken was the commander of Memory of Ithor,
and!
Pellaeon was on their side.
"The best thing about Pellaeon was that he knew his limitations," Wedge
said. "Don't get me wrong, he's a very good tactician and excellent at command
- but when Thrawn died, he didn't kid himself that he could salvage the
battle. That alone set him apart from most Imperial commanders, who more
usually had inflated opinions of themselves. It's why! we were able to beat
them early on. The Vong are a little like that."
He said that last more to reassure the obviously nervous lieutenant than
because it was the absolute truth. True, a lot of Yuuzhan Vong commanders
fought on when they ought to retreat, but it was from a very different
sensibility than what had motivated, say, Grand Moff Tarkin. A more dangerous
sensibility.
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said. "Let's just hope we don't get surprised
at Bilbringi."
"Lieutenant," he said, as the reversion alarm began belling, "I can
promise you that if we are, I'm absolutely never coming to this system again."
But realspace brought no surprises. They decanted ex-actly as planned,
and in a few moments tactical displays began explaining, in their mechanical
way, the situation. Which was also pretty much what they had expected.
Below them, toward Bilbringi's primary, were what had once been the
Bilbringi shipyards. Some of the shipyard structures were still there, though
the Golan II Battle Sta-tions that had guarded them were conspicuously absent.
And in the asteroid belt near the shipyards, the Yuuzhan Vong had set up their
own shipyards. Of course, the Yuu-zhan Vong grew their ships, feeding them the
raw materials of the asteroids.
Finally, there was a sizable flotilla assembled. He counted two
interdictor cruisers-made obvious by their spicular configuration-and twelve
additional capital ships ranging in size from about half to nearly twice the
size of Mon Mothma. His battle group was less than a third as large, but then
again, he was less than a third of what was really in store for the Yuuzhan
Vong at Bilbringi.
"Orders, General?" Commander Raech asked.
"Start bringing us in," Wedge said. "Pellaeon and Kre'fey are under
orders not to rendezvous here until we've assessed the situation and given the
clear, and pinpointed their most strategic positions. Let's do our job and
make sure we don't lead them into a trap."
"Very good, sir."
The battle group began to move in.
"Sir," the officer at control informed him, "message coming in from
Memory ofIthor. For you, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'll take it."
A moment later, Pash Cracken's voice came over the comm. "Well, General,"
Pash said, "seems like old times."
"Yes, I was just thinking that, too," Wedge replied. "At least things are
starting smoother this time."
"You can say that again. Boy, they've really redecorated, haven't they?"
"Yep. Maybe I'll h
ire them to do my place on Chan-drila," Wedge quipped.
"Right. Early Vong deco. Whoops-looks like they're moving," Pash said.
"I'll let you get back to the general thing. Don't forget I'm back here, okay?
"
"That's not likely. Good to have you on my wing, Pash."
"Thanks, Wedge."
Wedge turned his attention back to the coming battle. The Yuuzhan Vong
ships were in motion, all right, forming quickly into two groups. One was
about the size of his own, and included one of the interdictors. The other,
more mas-sive group began moving away from the shipyards.
"Steady," he said. "They're still a long way away. Let's see if they do
what I'm hoping-hah."
The smaller battle group vanished from sight and screen.
"Microjump, sir," Cel reported excitedly. "They're be-hind us now."
"Sure. They're putting us between the two interdictors so we can't leave.
They've got all they need to crush us, and they know it." He studied the
chart. "So we'll have Pellaeon drop in here in sector six, and Kre'fey in
twelve." He looked it over one more time. Was he missing anything?
"Control," he ordered, "send those coordinates to the re-spective fleets.
" He turned to the commander. "Battle sta-tions, but no hurry. We'll engage
the smaller fleet, try to make it look like we've bitten off more than we can
chew and are trying to take out the interdictor so we can run along home. Our
reinforcements will be here long before the second group catches us-they won't
be microjumping with those interdictors going."
The voice of control came back. "General, we seem to have a problem."
"Yes?"
"We can't seem to contact either Beta or Gamma."
"Can't seem to or can't?" Wedge asked.
"Can't, sir."
"Contact central control and have them relay the coordi-nates, then."
"Sir, we can't reach Mon Cal, either. Or anyplace else. It's like the
entire comm network has gone down."
Wedge looked back at the shaping battle. If he didn't call the other
commanders, they wouldn't show up. The battle plan was absolutely clear on
that point-better to lose one battle group to some unexpected Vong tactic or
invention than three. Without the other two flotillas, this could get pretty
nasty, and not for the Yuuzhan Vong.
"Yes, Lieutenant," he murmured. "I think I've just about had it with
Bilbringi."
SEVENTEEN
Han Solo gazed unhappily at one of the most beautiful sunsets he had ever
seen. And he had seen a lot of sunsets on a lot of different worlds, but as
Mon Calamari's primary hit the ocean horizon and threw its shadow across the
waves, the sky went as subtle and iridescent as mother-of-pearl.
Gaudy sunsets were easy to come by, especially on worlds with dense or
dusty atmospheres-understated beauty was more difficult, not only because it
was rare, but also be-cause it sometimes took a lifetime to learn to
appreciate it, Which was why it was too bad he couldn't really enjoy it.
The problem wasn't with the sunset-it was that he was on Mon Calamari to
see it.
"We can't fight every battle in this war," Leia pointed out.
"What?" Han grumped. "/ didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. You've been brooding ever since Twin Suns pulled
out. In fact, since Tahiri left."
"We should've gone with her," he opined.
"Which one? Jaina or Tahiri?"
"Take your pick."
Leia shook her head. "Jaina's a starfighter pilot. It's what she wants to
be. It's where she sees her duty. She's been flying with the Galactic Alliance
forces for months now. If we tried to horn our way into the Bilbringi push
somehow, she'd-well, she wouldn't like it, to say the least. And Tahiri-Corran
can take care of her. I know he can." She crossed her arms. " But that's not
it, is it?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"You're bored. Two weeks without someone trying to kill us, and you're
bored out of your mind."
"I'm not bored," Han replied. "I just-there must be something we can be
doing besides sitting around looking at sunsets."
Leia sighed and settled into one of the divans. She gave him one of those
looks. "Nothing's happened in, oh, days that needs you, Han. Sure, things are
happening, but they're things almost any competent pilot could deal with. But
when something comes along only Han Solo can handle..."
"All right, that's enough sarcasm for one night," Han said. It was a
mistake. A glimmer of hurt appeared in her eyes.
"I'm only being slightly sarcastic, Han," Leia said. "Maybe not at all.
In war, sometimes the most important thing-and the hardest-is to just sit
still."
He made a face. "You really know how to..."
She reached out and took his hand. "Stop right there," she said, "and I
may show you something else I know how to..." She trailed off suggestively.
"I dunno," Han said. "It's an awfully nice sunset."
Leia gestured to the place next to her on the divan and raised her
eyebrows.
Han shrugged. "You've seen one sunset, you've seen 'em all."
Something pinging interrupted his sleep. Han sat up and muzzily looked
around for the source, finally identifying it as the comm unit in their room.
Easing out of bed, he stum-bled toward it and opened the channel.
"Yeah?" he mumbled. "This has to be good."
"I'm not sure good is the right word, Solo," a distorted voice said.
Han snorted. He wasn't falling for that again.
"Cut it out, Droma, and tell me what's up. What's the Ryn network into
now?"
"I've no idea what you mean, Solo," the voice replied.
"But something is definitely up."
"Look, it's late-no, it's early," Han said, rubbing his eyes with palm of
his hand. "What is it?"
"The Vong have deployed something new, maybe..." - Droma said. "They
launched them a few days ago. Some kind of unpiloted drones, we think, unless
they've developed some really small pilots."
Han was wide awake now. "What kind of drones?"
"We don't know what they do, if that's what you mean. But it can't be
good. Figured I'd give you a heads-up. You might mention it to the military,
too."
"Yeah, I might," Han said. "Is that all you can tell me?"
"At this time, yes. We're trying to track one of them, but they're
slippery."
"Some kind of weapon?"
"If I knew that I would tell you. But the Vong are excited about them."
"Thanks," Han said. Then more heavily "And Droma, if this is you-I don't
appreciate the subterfuge. I mean, security is security, but I thought the two
of us-"
But he was talking to a dead comm.
"Who was that?" Leia asked, from behind him. He hadn't heard her
approach, but he wasn't surprised, either.
"One of our pals in the Ryn network, I think. Maybe Droma. You heard?"
"Yes."
He reached for the comm. "I'd better pass this on." But when he tried to
call control, he got put on hold. ALL CIRCUITS RESERVED FOR MILITARY PURPOSES.
He frowned at the device, and then started for where he'd left his
trousers.
"I'm going down there," he said.
/>
"I'm right with you."
They arrived to a tense but relatively quiet situation room. They were
greeted briefly by Sien Sow.
"The first wave is about to go in," the Sullustan said. "Under Antilles.
He should be coming out of hyperspace in five minutes."
"Mind if we stay?" Han asked. "When you've got a spare minute I have
something to brief you on."
"Of course you may stay. Your daughter is with Antilles, isn't she?"
"Last I heard. But that's not why I came down."
"Can it wait, then?"
"I think so, "Han said.
He watched Sow return to control, feeling itchy. He hadn't spent much
time in situation rooms-he'd always been on the other end of things, mostly
ignoring everything he heard from control. Sure, battle computers were great,
but they didn't feel anything. They didn't have instinct to help them out.
"General Sow!" someone shouted.
"What is it?"
"Admiral Pellaeon hasn't reported in, sir. He was sup-posed to alert us
when he had reached position for the Bil-bringi jump."
"What's the problem?"
"The HoloNet relay in that area seems to be down."
"Can you boost the signal from the next nearest?"
"I can try." The comm technician frowned and fiddled with something.
"Sir, transmission coming through from HoloNet relay Delta-aught-six!"
"Put it on."
An excited voice crackled over the comm. "... some kind of ships, very
small. They look Vong, but don't fit any of our profiles. We can't get them
all. Six of them have..." Loud static replaced the voice.
Small ships?
The drones his unknown caller had warned him about?
"We've just lost touch with Gamma," another communications officer
reported. He punched wildly at his controls and then looked up, his face very
pale. "Sir, the HoloNet's down. I can't find a live relay anywhere."
"General," Han said, "I think my news just became a lot more important."
"The HoloNet is down," General Sow confirmed twenty standard minutes
later, in a hastily convened meeting of the war council. "The cause is
undetermined, though there is some evidence that it's due to a new Yuuzhan
Vong weapon-some sort of drone."
"Some evidence?" Han interrupted. "You heard the report from Tantiss
Station."
Sow conceded that with a nod. "We assume the other stations were
destroyed in the same way," he said. "What-ever the details, it seems clear
