Star Wars The New Jedi Order - The Final Prophecy - Book 19

by Greg Keyes

  Plaeryin bol,she had time to think, before the poison struck her.

  Her muscles contracted instantly, and she felt her heart-beat roaring in

  her ears as she thudded to the ground in what seemed like slow motion. The

  sounds of the forest seemed, conversely, to rise in pitch, and she saw

  everything as through a distorted sheet of mica. Her body flopped until she

  was on her back, and she found the executor stand-ing over her. She could no

  longer make out the features of his face.

  "Know you..." she managed.

  "I'm flattered," he replied. "We met only once, I think."

  "Why?" Her lips were numb, the words torture to form, but she knew if she

  could keep him talking, the reagent im-plants in her body would manufacture an

  antidote to the toxin. She noticed he had released the sting from his arm.

  "Why?" he repeated, moving away, apparently searching for something on the

  ground. "You don't have long enough for me to explain it, my dear."

  "But Zonama Sekot. I... the answer."

  "I really couldn't care less," the false Prophet said.

  "You've gone mad, you and Harrar. Whatever future you would launch from

  here, I don't think it would be one I care for. There is only so much a people

  can change before they lose themselves."

  "Already... lost." She needed to make him understand. The Yuuzhan Vong

  had lost their way long before coming to this galaxy.

  "I really don't think that's your judgment to make," the Prophet said

  diffidently. She remembered his real name, suddenly. Nom Anor. "After I'm done

  with you," he con-tinued, "Zonama Sekot won't be far behind. You see, you gave

  me access to your qahsa, and contrary to what you probably think, I am well

  able to understand its contents."

  "No. You're mad." She was feeling a little stronger. Sen-sation was

  returning to her extremities. She felt her whip-sting, trailing on the ground,

  unretracted.

  He reached down for something and picked it up. A rock.

  "You'll have to excuse me if I'm humble enough to doubt that a poison of

  my manufacture will kill you, Nen Yim. You truly are a genius. You are a

  terrible loss to our people." He came towa rd her, hefting the rock in one

  hand. Her heartbeat blurred into a steady vibration as with every bit of

  strength she had left she thrust her sting at him. He swung the rock down, and

  something thundered, and one side of her head felt huge.

  The second blow seemed softer. She saw again the rush of images that

  Zonama Sekot had shown her, the beauty of a world in harmony, a harmony so

  sublime that the Yuuzhan Vong had no word for it-though once they must have.

  She saw the back of her own hand, the normal one, the one she had been born

  with. She was suddenly very young, back in the creche, noticing it for the

  first time, fascinated that she could make the little things on it move.

  Does Tahiri remember this, too? she wondered. She wiggled the fingers,

  trying to guess how they worked. She could not seem to move them very much.

  Nom Anor gasped as the sting ran him through, but used the pain to drive

  the rock into Nen Yim's head a second time. The forest floor was already black

  with blood, and he was spattered with it. He could taste it, somehow, though j

  he hadn't remembered opening his mouth.

  He hit her a third time and fell back, pulling at the thing in him,

  wondering if she had managed to kill him, too. He'd been stupid-he should have

  killed her more quickly. He was lucky the plaeryin bol venom worked at all,

  upon re-flection. He was never more grateful that he had chosen to replace his

  lost implant.

  He was relieved to discover the sting had gone through the meat of his

  side. She had missed any organs, and he didn't think the sting was poisoned.

  Still, it hurt, as did the hole she had made in his arm. He'd been lucky-if he

  hadn't surprised her, things might well have gone very differently. Ignoring

  his oozing wounds, he reached down and picked up the qahsa, examining it with

  a critical eye. Was this her original qahsa, or the thing she had used to

  contact the memories of Zonama Sekot? He fervently hoped it was the former,

  and that she had brought it along to record her new discovery. If it was the

  other one, he would have to go back to the cave and face Tahiri. That was a

  very risky proposition-he would have to take her from behind. He had only a

  partly depleted plaeryin bol and a rock, no match for her Jedi powers and a

  lightsaber. She could take his rock from him and club him to death with it

  from ten meters away.

  To his relief, it was the qahsa he sought-the one Nen Yim had keyed him

  to. He took it and left the clearing, quickly climbing back up the ridge. Over

  the last few days, he had stolen the other components he needed to carry out

  his plan-the only thing lacking was the protocol itself, which was too

  complicated to memorize. Now he had it. He faced out toward the gigantic

  hyperdrive guides. He still had challenges ahead. There were still Corran and

  Harrar to deal with, and Tahiri would surely come after him. And he had little

  time. In less than a day-cycle, the ships sent by Shimrra would be here. By

  that time, Zonama Sekot had to be dead, or at the very least crippled. He

  intended to see it done.

  When sundown drew near and Nen Yim hadn't returned, Tahiri went looking

  for her. She hadn't seen the Prophet in a while, either, and suddenly worried

  that Nen Yim's perfor-mance had been just that-a ruse to create an opportunity

  for their departure.

  She went in the general direction the shaper had taken. Above her, clouds

  were gathering, and the tall boras creaked in a quickening wind. Leaves

  whirled and danced, and a scent like electricity and resin crackled in the

  humid air. She found Nen Yim in a small clearing. A trail of blood showed that

  she'd crawled a few meters before collapsing. As Tahiri knelt beside her, she

  saw the shaper's head was a messy ruin. Her one remaining eye was still open,

  however, if unfocused. Her breath came in faint wheezes.

  "Nen Yim," Tahiri said gently. "Who did this?"

  "Prophet. He's not-" She quivered at the effort of saying the words. "...

  Nom Anor."

  "Nom Anor?" Tahiri looked quickly around, her hand grasping for her

  lightsaber. Nom Anor, the one who had tried to kill them at Yag'Dhul, had been

  right under her nose? A sick chill ran through her.

  Nen Yim shivered and gasped.

  "I... I have a medpac back at the camp," Tahiri said.

  "Just hang on, and I'll be back."

  "No... I've stayed too long already. I can't-He thought I was dead. He's

  going to kill Sekot. You have to stop him."

  "Kill Sekot?"

  "Has my qahsa. I brought protocols, in case Sekot was a danger to us."

  "Where's he gone?"

  "He will seek-drive mechanism. The center that controls it can be

  sabotaged to make the drive fail cataclysmically. Probably made-thing drive,

  if the ship is an example. Stop him."

  "Of course I will. But you have to help me."

  "No." Nen Yim's hand came up. "Leave me here. Let me become a part of

  this."

  Tears were blurring Tahiri's vision. She wiped them away with the
back of

  her hand.

  "You are a part of this," she said.,

  "So are you. And part of me. Don't forget." Nen Yim gasped and her body

  seized. "Wanted to tell you about Sekot. It's what..." But that was the last

  thing she said. Her mouth kept working for a time, but no words came out. A

  few moments later, her pulse was gone.

  Tahiri stood grimly, anger and grief coursing through her. Jacen had said

  you could draw power from anger without turning to the dark side. That evil

  was praxis, not the emo-tions that drove it.

  But there had to be a trick in that. Because what she wanted most to do

  at that moment was cut the Prophet's heart out-and not too quickly.

  He would be headed to where Corran and Harrar had gone. Was Harrar in on

  this?

  Then there would be two hearts to carve.

  TWEIVTY-IXIIIVIE

  Corran stood gazing up at the immense metal vanes, trying to imagine the

  engineering job that had produced them. Now that they were near, he could see

  more of the engines-three vast pits that must be the exhaust vents of ion or

  even fusion drives.

  It smacked of the Empire, when everything came in deluxe sizes. Was this

  whole planet some sort of super-weapon? It had destroyed the better part of a

  Yuuzhan Vong fleet, after all, not the easiest thing to do.

  "You know what these are, don't you?" Harrar said in an accusatory tone.

  "They look like made-things." Might as well get it over with, Corran thought.

  "Yes.

  These are part of a hyperdrive engine."

  "A hyper-the planet can be moved?"

  "It has been moved. It took the Jedi quite some time to find it because

  it had left the system where it was last recorded."

  "I see now why you avoided bringing me here," Harrar said. "No, don't

  deny it-it was clear that you wished to keep this from me for as long as

  possible."

  "I don't deny that," Corran said. "I thought it might-cloud the issue of

  Zonama Sekot."

  "You underestimate my ability to reason," Harrar said.

  "Do you think all Yuuzhan Vong react without considera-tion? You insult

  me."

  "I'm sorry," Corran said. "No insult was intended." Harrar shrugged. "You

  should have told me sooner, but you did not. Now I know. The issue is moot-

  unless you are still holding information back." He looked out over the nearest

  pit. "We move planets," he said. "But we use dovin basals. There is no-how

  would you say it? Push-back?"

  "Counterreaction," Corran said.

  "Yes. How can a planet stand the stress of the sort of engines you use?"

  "Not without cost, I would thiqk." A sudden thought oc-curred to him.

  "Nen Yim mentioned recent mass extinc-tions. Using this engine may have been

  the cause of them."

  "The danger they were fleeing must have been great," Harrar said.

  Corran laughed. Harrar gave him a puzzled look.

  "We think they were fleeing you," Corran explained.

  "The Yuuzhan Vong."

  The priest seemed to absorb that. "Shimrra fears Zonama Sekot," he said.

  "Zonama Sekot fears the Yuuzhan Vong. What can be the explanation?"

  "I've no idea."

  "Nor do I understand how this planet's consciousness, if it indeed has

  one, can countenance this... thing.... driven into its very surface." "Perhaps

  Sekot believes that life and technology can co-exist peacefully," Corran

  suggested.

  "Perhaps," Harrar said dubiously. "Or perhaps the infi-the sentients who

  dwell here have enslaved the planet and imposed this technology upon it."

  "That's also a possibility," Corran admitted. "But as Nen Yim might say,

  we're not going to find the truth by merely speculating."

  "What was your reason for coming to this place, if you already knew what

  this was?"

  "I'm looking for a communications device, so I can con-tact the Ferroans

  or the ship in orbit. Otherwise, we could be stuck here for a very long time."

  "You could have told me that, too," Harrar said. "Did you think I would

  object?"

  "To falling into the hands of the enemy? Maybe."

  "I placed myself in your hands," Harrar reminded him.

  "I trust you have enough honor to make certain we are not made prisoners,

  but will be paroled to return to our people."

  "I promise to do the best I can," Corran said, "but the matter might be

  taken out of my hands. Anyway, are you sure you want to go back? I doubt that

  Shimrra will be very pleased with you."

  "That risk is mine," Harrar said, "and that of the others if they choose

  to take it. I feel that you would do the same in my place, Corran Horn."

  "Probably."

  Harrar searched about with his gaze. "Where do we look for this

  communications device of yours?"

  "I don't know. I figure ther e must be some sort of mainte-nance access to

  the hyperdrive core. I'm hoping we'll find something-or someone-there. If not,

  I'm fresh out of ideas."

  "Where should we look? Down one of those pits?" Corran chuckled wryly.

  "Climb down the exhaust vent of an engine big enough to move a planet? No,

  thanks. It should be someplace obvious, say at the base of one of these vanes.

  They found that access with relatively little trouble-a large metallic

  dome was half buried in rock about twenty meters from the northernmost tower.

  Corran could see that the top was built to open so that large parts and

  equipment could be shuttled in and out. A more modest ground-level entrance

  wouldn't open for them, but Corran was able to solve that little problem after

  a few minutes with his light-saber. He hoped the Ferroans would go easy on

  vandals, if they had good cause.

  Within, they found an enormous shaft plunging straight down toward the

  planet's core. Faint track lights illumi-nated the floor as they entered.

  "The maintenance area will be down there," Corran said, gesturing down

  the shaft. "This could take a while, if it's as big as it looks."

  "I suggest we begin, in that case," Harrar said. Nom Anor watched the

  entrance to the huge hyperdrive for a long while before starting down. It was

  clear that the Jedi and Harrar had gained entrance using the Jedi's weapon.

  What wasn't clear was where they were exactly, and what they were doing.

  Still, it was convenient for him that they had opened the way.

  He entered and listened carefully, but heard only the wretched hum of

  machinery. Perhaps they were not within, after all, but had moved on, or were

  returning to camp by a different route. Darkness was falling, and a storm

  coming. He could not wait forever.

  He'd replaced the masquer on his face. If he met them, he would simply

  say he had followed out of curiosity. So determined, he entered the building

  and began search-ing for a way down, where logic dictated he might find what

  he sought.

  He found a series of lifts not very different from those he had

  encountered on a dozen infidel worlds. He stepped in, found the control that

  would send it down, and reached for it.

  At that moment, he heard another lift arrive, coming up from below. He

  froze, wishing he had a cloak of Nuun to make him invisible.

  The door to his lift closed just a
s the other opened, and he heard the

  voices of Harrar and Corran. He quickly stabbed his finger at the control to

  pause his descent.

  "I might be able to piece something together with this stuff," Corran was

  saying. "But it will take a while."

  "Perhaps we should fire the engines," Harrar said. "That should get their

  attention."

  A chill went up Nom Anor's spine. From his tone, Harrar was clearly

  joking, but that was insane for two reasons. The first was that Harrar never

  joked. The second was that no Yuuzhan Vong would casually jest about using

  machine technology. There was no possible humor in that. Which meant that what

  he'd told Nen Yim was true - the planet was driving Harrar mad. No wonder

  Shimrra feared it.

  When the voices had faded beyond hearing, he touched the descent control

  and the lift began to whir down its shaft. It took what seemed a long time, so

  long that the air actu-ally seemed to get thicker. He was beginning to wonder

  if he would simply continue on to the other side of the planet when the car

  finally arrived in an immense room. Banks of machines and control panels

  gleamed in the faint light from the floor.

  He called all the lifts down, wedged them open with some crates he found

  stacked nearby, and began his search. He had very little technical knowledge

  concerning hyperdrive cores, but he didn't really need any. What he was

  looking for was an interface, something where the biosphere of Sekot met the

  cold metal of the infidel machines.

  He sat cross-legged on a console and took out Nen Yim's qahsa, searching

  through it for the data on the Sekotan ship. There was a long entry on the

  engine moorings, the analog of which was certainly what he was looking for.

  The ship had been grown around a sort of neural net. The hyperdrive was

  probably connected to something similat So where would that be?

  He suspected he had a long search ahead of him. Halfway back to the camp,

  Corran heard a rustling in the underbrush and saw Tahiri, moving at a fast

  trot. She had her lightsaber in her hand, and he could sense her anger like a

  torch in the high wind.

  "Tahiri," he called.

  She whirled at the sound 'of her name. Her eyes looked wild.

  "What's happened?" he asked.

  "Nen Yim is dead," she said, her voice as heavy and flat as a sheet of

  duracrete. "The Prophet killed her."

  "The Prophet?" Harrar asked. "Are you certain?"