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

by Greg Keyes

clearly expected him to make a hard, straight push for the interdictor.

  Instead, he was plowing around the flank farthest from the huge dovin basal

  vessel, shredding it pretty effectively. They'd finally analyzed his plan and

  were bringing around the largest ship in the cento; but they were slow, and

  he'd already managed to take out three of their capital ships without losing

  any of his own, though the Ranger was in pretty bad shape.

  The starboard flank was theirs, now. He had the ships form a line and

  began laying down a corridor of fire that opened a lane to the approaching

  Dreadnaught, a monstrous kilometer-long cone of bone-white yorik coral. Maybe

  a hundred coralskippers flared out in the first few furious seconds, and

  Alliance starfighters rushed in to fill the gap, pouring toward the hulking

  Yuuzhan Vong vessels.

  "Come and get us," Wedge said. "Come on, be the Vong I know and love."

  Because now what remained of the Yuuzhan Vong flotilla I was at a

  pronounced disadvantage. To continue the fight, they would have to fly

  straight into the combined firepower of six Alliance capital vessels.

  Which, predictably, they began to do.

  This was where the heavy slugging would begin.

  "Sir, we report some activity from the Golan Two. It opened fire on the

  skips pursuing Twin Suns."

  "Really?" That was good news. He hadn't really expected the battle

  platform to be functional after all this time. How had Jaina commandeered it

  so quickly?

  "Yes, sir."

  "See if you can raise Colonel Solo."

  The Dreadnaughts were closing, and beginning to fire at extreme range.

  Wedge could already see them taking hits from the starfighters.

  "Target dovin basals until they're in deep range," he said.

  "Lasers only, at your pleasure."

  The Mothma and its sisters commenced firing.

  "Sir?" Cel sounded distressed.

  "Yes?" he asked mildly.

  "We can't raise Colonel Solo. And there's something else."

  "Well?"

  "The Golan Two has disappeared."

  "Disappeared? Destroyed?"

  "It's hard to say at this range, sir, with this much interfer-ence, but

  there's no obvious sign of explosion or debris. It's more like it just dropped

  out of existence." Gone, then here, then gone...

  "Thrawn," he murmured. "Did you leave us a present?"

  "Sir?"

  "It's cloaked, Lieutenant. Keep an eye on that sector, and let me know

  the instant anyone hears anything from Colonel Solo."

  He turned his attention back to the immediate battle. The Golan was still

  very much a wild card-he would have to work with what he had.

  The lead Dreadnaught was taking terrific damage, but it must have been

  mostly hull in the forward sections, because it was still coming. Wedge paced

  up to the viewport.

  "Die, you ugly brute," he muttered. But on it came, aimed at Spritespray,

  a medium cruiser.

  At this point, even if they managed to kill the dovin basal drive the

  ship would keep coming with enough momentum to wreck the cruiser and open a

  hole in his line. If the Dreadnaught retained any firepower, it would then be

  behind his line, forcing him to a two-front battle.

  "Spritespray, let her through. Vortex Wind, Justice-at-cute rumble."

  The three ships acknowledged. Wedge watched the Dread-naught roar past,

  with far too much momentum to stop as Spritespray scooted aside and the Vortex

  Wind and Justice rolled above and below the gap. As the Dreadnaught went

  through the hole, they let the ship have it from both sides. The Dreadnaught

  passed through the line with no drive and massive damage in all areas. Without

  power it con-tinued on its last vector, out toward the system's rim. Other

  ships were making for the gap, though. Wedge shifted his line to break and

  form on either side of the already damaged vessels.

  "Sir!"

  From Gel's frantic tone, he knew it would be bad. Ships were decanting

  near the interdictor-Yuuzhan Vong ships. A thin chill lifted the hair of his

  neck.

  "They've figured out we weren't a feint," Wedge said.

  "They're back."

  That meant he had a whole new battle on his hands.

  THIRTY-DIXIE

  The door opened, and Nom Anor stepped out, smiling, his hands extended

  with open palms.

  "Stop right there," Tahiri commanded.

  "If I don't, will you cut me down?" Nom Anor asked. "I have no weapons."

  "You wouldn't use them if you had them," Tahiri snapped.

  "Coward. You wouldn't fight Anakin at Yag'Dhul."

  Nom Anor shrugged. "True enough. How is the young Solo brat? No-didn't I

  hear he died? Yes, that's right, he did. And you two were close, were you not?

  What a pity."

  "Shut up," Tahiri said. The hatred was welling up in her, urging her to

  do exactly as he had suggested, cut him down and slash that murderous smug

  leer from his face.

  "You're angry," Nom Anor said. "I thought you Jedi weren't supposed to

  get angry."

  "I make an exception for you," Tahiri said.

  "How flattering," the executor purred. "You would turn to the dark side

  just for me?"

  "You have no idea what you're talking about," Tahiri said.

  "Wrong," Nom Anor replied, taking a step out of the turbolift. " I have

  studied your ways, Jedi. I know that if you strike me down in anger you will

  have committed the most terrible sin your kind can commit."

  "You won't care about that," Tahiri said. "You'll be dead."

  "Will I?" He took another step.

  "Stop,"

  Tahiri commanded.

  "Very well. I will do as you ask." He stopped, less than a meter away,

  staring at her. She felt her hands shaking-not with fear, but with the effort

  to control her passions.

  "Kill him," Harrar said.

  "He's not armed," Tahiri said. "I won't murder him."

  "No!" Harrar said, leaping forward.

  It distracted Tahiri for an instant and she looked away, noticing even as

  she did that one of Anor's pupils was growing...

  Memory clicked-something Leia had said about that eye. She leapt aside as

  the glob of venom spurted toward her, but she hadn't taken the guardrail into

  account. She hit it with her hip and agonizing pain jolted up her side. She

  tried to turn and managed to just in time to see Nom Anor side-step the priest

  and kick viciously at her. The kick connected, flipping her back. She dropped

  her lightsaber, grabbing wildly for the railing.

  She missed and then she was falling.

  Part of Nom Anor was amazed it had been so easy to deal with Tahiri. He

  turned on Harrar, and found the priest coming for him again, a snarl on his

  face.

  Nom Anor hit him with a q'urh kick, then spun and snapped his fist

  against the back of the priest's head. Harrar faded with the blow, however,

  dropping and sweeping. He caught one of Nom Anor's feet, putting him off

  balance long enough to launch a powerful thrusting punch.

  More by luck than from any design on Nom Anor's part, the punch missed.

  Nom Anor brought his fist up under Harrar's jaw with such force that the

  priest left the ground. Bits of shattered teeth sprinkled the floor as
Harrar

  thudded to it, slid up to the wall, and lay still.

  Nom Anor took quick stock of his situation and saw that his day was

  getting even better. The Jedi had dropped her weapon. Quickly he picked it up.

  He had experimented with them before, and so found it easy to ignite. Then,

  re-membering Horn, he severed the power conduits to the lifts, starting with

  the one in motion. He heard it drag to a stop someplace not far below.

  Knowing that this might not be good enough-for all he knew Horn might cut

  hole in the wall and fly up-he left the building and struck off through the

  driving sheets of rain toward a high, flat spot he'd picked out some time be-

  fore, shoving the now quiescent weapon under his sash. Tahiri nailed in space,

  reaching desperately to grab something, anything, but nothing was in reach.

  From the corner of her vision she caught sight of the cable Corran had slid

  down, less than a meter away-which was still half a meter too far.

  The Force, idiot, she thought. She reached out, tugging at the cable with

  the Force, changing her vector so she angled toward it.

  She wrapped her bare palms around it, gasping as her hands burned. Her

  fingers tried to open reflexively, but she couldn't let them, or she would

  fall. Nom Anor would escape, Sekot would die-and she would let Corran down. If

  the older Jedi was still alive.

  She embraced the pain and focused beyond it, using the Force to further

  slow her descent. Finally, every muscle in her body shrieking in chorus with

  her palms, she came to a stop.

  She looked up, and discovered she had fallen almost a hundred meters.

  The anger was back, but now she needed it-not to fight, but to wrap her

  legs around the cable and pull herself up, though every centimeter gained

  brought a world of agony. She felt blisters rupturing on her hands.

  At least it makes them stickier, she reflected. Her hands conformed to

  the cable now, as if they were made of tal gum. Nom Anor went carefully up the

  narrow path, choosing his steps in the freeze-frame moments that the lightning

  created as it limned the world white and blue, then left it again in darkness.

  The rain was a steady drum, and the wind gusted like the laughter of an insane

  god. His route was a broken spine of stone with yawning pits of darkness on

  either side. He came to particularly narrow footing and stopped for a moment,

  realizing that he was actually afraid. It was as if the planet itself was

  trying to do what the Jedi had been unable to.

  As perhaps it was. If Nen Yim was correct, and the planet was sentient,

  perhaps it had witnessed his act of sabotage. Perhaps it sought revenge.

  "Do your worst," he snarled into the wind. "I am Nom Anor. Know my name,

  for I have killed you."

  As he said it, he finally knew with absolute conviction that he had done

  the right thing. Zonama Sekot was like a tonqu flower-attracting insects with

  its sweet scent, tempt-ing them to alight upon it-where they found themselves

  cloyed, watching the long petal roll up. Part living, part ma-chine, and

  somehow part Jedi, it was an abomination - more so than Coruscant, more so

  than anything in the galaxy of abominations.

  Quoreal had been right. They should never have come here. But Nom Anor

  had set that to rights.

  He crossed the narrow area, stepped over a gap in the next lightning

  flash, and saw that the way widened a bit ahead.

  But from the corner of his eye...

  Someone crashed into him, chopping viciously at the side of his neck. The

  force of the blow knocked him sprawling, and his chin grated against stone.

  With a roar he kicked back and rolled. A foot caught him under his savaged

  chin, but he managed to catch it and twist. His attacker fell heavily. Nom

  Anor scrambled back, trying to regain his footing, but found himself teetering

  on the edge of a cliff. Lighting ripped the sky, and he saw a silhouette

  rising against it. Another flash came, this one behind him, and he made out

  Harrar's face, terrifying, as if the very gods had put their light of

  vengeance in him.

  "Nom Anor," the priest shouted through the rain. "Pre-pare to die,

  perfidious one."

  "This planet has driven you mad, Harrar," Nom Anor snapped. " You side

  with Jedi against me?"

  "I side with Zonama Sekot," Harrar said. "And you-you are accursed by

  Shimrra, you honorless qorih. I would have killed you anyway."

  "Zonama Sekot is a lie, you fool-a tale I told my fol-lowers so that they

  would obey me."

  "You know nothing," Harrar said. "You know less than nothing. Do you

  think you know the secrets of the priest-hood? Do you think we share all we

  know? It is Shimrra who has lied to us. Zonama Sekot is the truth. If you

  would be of service to your people, you will tell me what you have done."

  Nom Anor felt the lightsaber in his hand. Harrar was ad-vancing, and a

  single kick would be enough to send Nom Anor plunging to his death. He dared

  not use the plaeryin bol-even if it still contained poison, the rain would at

  best deflect it, at worst wash in onto him. The Jedi weapon was his only

  chance.

  "Telling you will do no good," he sneered at Harrar.

  "Nothing can reverse the damage now."

  "I believe you," Harrar said, his face twisting as he took a quick step

  toward Nom Anor.

  Nom Anor pressed the stud on the lightsaber and the cut-ting beam blazed

  out, hissing and trailing steam in the downpour. It felt strange, a weapon

  with no weight other than its grip. He cut at the priest's knee, but his

  position and the unfamiliar blade made the cut awkward. At the appear-ance of

  the blade, however, Harrar tried to stop his forward motion and jerked his leg

  away from the attack; he slipped on the wet rocks and stumbled, falling past

  Nom Anor and over the cliff.

  His howl of rage and frustration was quickly cut short. Panting, Nom Anor

  rose, extinguished the lightsaber, and continued on his way. The gods were

  with him again, it seemed. Certainly they were no longer with Harrar.

  When the turbolift jarred to a halt, Corran ignited his light-saber and

  cut through the roof of the car, stepping aside as the circle of metal clanged

  to the floor. After waiting a few seconds for the plating to cool, he leapt up

  and caught the edge of the hole, then drew himself up into the shaft. In the

  dim emergency lighting, he could see the door some ten meters above. The lift

  was magnetic, so the walls were glassy smooth, and the power cables were

  buried in them. There were no rungs and nothing to give purchase. He could cut

  handholds for himself and climb, but that would take a long time.

  He dropped back down into the car and examined the control panel. He

  didn't know the language. The up and down icons were obvious, but the others

  would take a little figuring out.

  Nom Anor must have cut the power from above somehow, but the car hadn't

  fallen-presumably there was an emergency battery system to prevent that

  happening. But would the emergency system be able to finish the ascent, or was

  it doing its best just to keep him from falling?

  He pushed a red button with two vertical lines and a
triangle, with no

  result. He tried a few of the others, again with no result. Frustrated, he

  tapped the up key.

  The car started moving, though much more slowly than before. He felt like

  pounding his head against the wall the emergency system was separate from the

  normal one-he needed only to tell the car where he wanted to go.

  A few minutes later, he emerged from the lift, ready to fight-but there

  was no one to fight. The room was empty. There were light spatters of black

  blood on the floor, but other than that, no clues as to exactly what had

  happened. He was about to go outside when he heard a faint noise behind him,

  in the maintenance shaft. Peering over, he saw Tahiri pulling herself up the

  superconductor cable, about twenty meters below.

  "Are you okay?" he shouted.

  "I'm fine," she called back up, her voice shaking. She seemed to be

  having trouble climbing. "Nom Anor got away," she added. "You have to stop

  him-I'll join you when I can."

  "And leave you dangling? No. I don't think so. You just hang on there."

  He went back to the lifts. Someone had indeed cut through the power

  couplings-with a lightsaber, it appeared. He reached cautiously inside and

  grabbed a rope-sized fiber-optic conduit and began to pull it out. When he

  thought he had enough, he cut it with his weapon and then tied a loop in the

  end.

  Tahiri hadn't made much progress in the intervening time. He threw the

  loop end down to her.,

  "Put your foot in that," he said, "and hang on with your hands. I'll pull

  you up."

  She nodded wearily and did as instructed. Bracing his end of the rope

  over the safety rail, Corran hauled her up. When she had pulled herself over

  the rail, he saw her hands.

  "Let me see those," he said.

  "They're all right," she protested.

  "Let me see them."

  They were badly friction-burned, but it looked as if her tendons were

  undamaged, which was good. The scar on her old amphistaff wound had torn a bit

  and was leaking blood, but not too much.

  "Well, at least you got to slide down the cable," he said.

  "Was it as fun as you imagined it would be?"

  "That and loads more," Tahiri said.

  "What happened here?"

  "I let my guard down," she said. "Nom Anor has some-thing in one of his

  eyes that shoots poison."

  "Did he hit you with it?"

  "No. But when I dodged, I hit the rail, and then he knocked me over it."