by James Luceno
"That's not our way," Luke said.
Harrar's initial confusion gave way to resolution. "Then if you would allow me, I wish to help bring about a resolution between your varied species and mine. Or do I begin to sound like Elan, promising one thing but determined to deliver another?"
Mara, Jacen, and the others were still trading looks of dumbfounded disbelief when Luke said, "Perhaps you carry something even more deadly than bo'tous, Harrar—in the form of ideas."
[ r pressed his few fingertips together and bounced them
his disfigured lower lip. "Yun-Harla is said to reserve her most
tricks for those most devoted to her. But we find ourselves
together, for reasons beyond my comprehension. From here,
'' we must at least attempt to mark a new beginning."
^W fflPe're ec
c're going to come out of this in one piece, right?" Judder Page asked as Han was returning to the cockpit. In the adjacent chair, Pash Cracken repressed a smile. Millennium Falcon had been in hyperspace for just under five standard hours, most of which Han had spent elsewhere in the freighter, evaluating the extent of the damage and checking on the passengers, who were crammed into every available cabin space.
Han looked from Page to Cracken to Leia, who had remained in the copilot's chair throughout the lightspeed transit. "Didn't you tell them everything would be fine?"
She shrugged. "Maybe they don't trust me." Han strapped into the pilot's chair and swiveled to the two Alliance officers. "You can trust whatever she says."
Page grinned. "Well, that's just it, Han. She told us to ask you." Han frowned at Leia. "Maybe it's time we reviewed our roles aboard this ship. I do the piloting. You reassure the passengers that the pilot always knows what he's doing."
"Of course, Captain," Leia said. "Might I tell the passengers exactly where we're headed?"
Han swung to the navicomputer display. "Unless we took a
rurn at the last nebula, we should be coming up on Caluula any
minute now."
Leia stared at him. "Caluula? In the Tion Hegemony? Could you have picked a more out-of-the-way planet?"
"Hey,1 got us away from those Vong skips, didn't I?"
"You did."
"I had to make a judgment call." Han continued to make adjustments on the console and overhead instrument panels.
Leia eyed the lubricant smears on his hands, and a small bump that was forming on his right temple. "Everything go all right in the back?" she asked quietly while Cracken and Page were engaged in a separate conversation. "I thought I heard some cursing."
"That must have been Threepio," Han mumbled.
"He never was good with tools—
"Coming out of hyperspace," Han interrupted, reaching forward to prime the sublight drives and ready the subspace transceiver.
The starlines sharpened to points of light, and the starfield rotated slightly. The ion drives flared to life with a deafening whoomp! and the ship began to lurch and hiccup. From aft came the sound of stressed alloy, then an indistinct severing as if some component had been torn away.
"What was that?" Leia asked.
"Just another piece of us," Han said flatly. "Nothing important. . . I hope."
A distant object grew larger in the viewport, slowly defining itself as a linear array of geometric modules, linked by girderlike structural members and transparent tubular passageways. Docking berths extended from each module, many of them housing ion cannons and turbolasers in place of ships. Sprouting like a faceted mushroom cap from the center of the array was an enormous shield generator.
Han relaxed into his chair. "A thing of beauty if I ever saw one."
"Looks awfully beat up," Leia said dubiously.
Han straightened somewhat. "Yeah, now that you mention it. But e last time I passed through here the station was stocked with after-market parts from Lianna."
"How long ago was that?"
118
Han thought for a moment. "A couple of years, I guess. But—-"
A blast rocked the Falcon from behind, snapping everyone back in their chairs.
"Another piece of us?" Leia asked, leaning in to check the sensor displays.
"Worse."
Leia's eyes were big when she glanced back at him. "What was that you said about outrunning those skips?"
Cracken raised his eyes to the overhead viewport. "They couldn't have followed us through hyperspace! It can't be the same vessels!"
Han veered the Falcon hard to port, a second before two magma missiles raced past the ship's mandibles. "Somebody's changed the rules!" He leaned toward the intercom and called the two Noghri by name, then fell silent for a moment, listening to their reply.
"I don't care if the targeting computers aren't responding! You've got eyes, haven't you?" He growled to himself. "Have to do everything myself around here—
A molten projectile hit the Falcon broadside, and a wire-filled module dropped, sparking, from the cockpit ceiling. Han barrel-rolled the ship, then dived abruptly. Alarms were screeching even before he pulled out of the maneuver, and the authenticators began painting dozens of yellow bezels on the tactical display screens.
Han and Leia looked up at the same time to find themselves squared off with a Yuuzhan Vong battle group of capital vessels, gunboat analogs, tenders, and what was certainly a yammosk-bearing clus-tership, similar to the one Han had helped cripple at Fondor. Sentry coralskippers were already streaking for the Falcon.
"You know, you have a real knack for this!" Leia said while she called for a status readout on the shields.
"It's not me," Han protested. "The navicomputer has itself convinced that trouble is the Falcon's default preference!"
"A likely story."
Han didn't alter course. "Grab a holo of that clustership. Download any drive signatures you can pick up and paste everything into the battle analysis computer. Then hold on to your stomach!"
He waited for Leia to carry out the tasks, then threw the Falcon
near-vertical climb, continuing up and over in a loop that sent
! racing back toward Caluula's orbital station. The quartet of
tailed, six-legged skips that had apparently chased the Falcon
Selvaris were directly below, spewing plasma missiles, even as
• jinked and juked to evade incessant laser bursts from the dorsal
and belly AG-2Gs.
Leia swiveled to the commboard. "Caluula Station, come in!" "Transmit our identification code," Han said. "Caluula Station, this is Millennium Falcon. Please acknowledge." "Say something," Han muttered. "Call us a name—anything!" The closer they came to the station, the worse it appeared. Many of the modules had been holed and scorched by fire. A pitched battle must have raged for weeks, unknown to Galactic Alliance command because of the disabled HoloNet. Han wondered briefly how many other planets or orbital stations were in similar straits.
'•'•Millennium Falcon, this is Caluula Station," a female voice said at last. "Someone should have told us you were coming."
Han clamped his right hand on Leia's left in relief. "Caluula Station, even we didn't know we were coming," he said into the mike. "We've got drive trouble, and a couple of coralskippers are hounding us. Any chance you could lower your shields long enough to take us in?"
"Can do, Millennium Falcon—so long as you can guarantee that your ship's as fast as she's rumored to be."
"Pull in the welcome mat while we're making our approach," Han said, "and the Falcon"^ still get us inside with time to spare."
"We won't hold you to that, Millennium Falcon, but come on in." "First we've got to lose these rock spitters." Routing additional power to the main thrusters, Han firewalled the throttle and began to take the Falcon through a repertoire of tomach-churning evasive maneuvers. The tandem-piloted skips did ieir best to keep up, singeing the Falcon's stern with gouts of plasma. But as the Falcon neared the station, the enemy vessels had to contend 80 with laser beams and
the sting of ion cannons.
Don't worry," Leia assured Page and Cracken as Han continued rocket for the small window Caluula Station had opened. "Han d°es this all the time."
The moment the Falcon soared into the station's embrace, the shield repowered. Repulsed by heavy fire, three of the skips peeled off and jagged for the protection of the battle group. The fourth kent coming, only to be stunned by the shimmering energy field, then feii prey to the station's powerful batteries.
Leia swiveled to face Cracken and Page. "See, that wasn't so bad "
Color slowly returned to their faces, and they nodded.
Steadying his shaking hand, Han cut power to the thrusters and allowed a tractor beam to convey the Falcon safely into a docking bay
Seat of the galactic government since the fall of Coruscant, the water world of Mon Calamari was nimbused with ships of all category and classification, from twenty-year-old scallop-hulled Mon Cal cruisers to gleaming Star Destroyers fresh from the yards of Bothawui and distant Tallaan. The star system's inner worlds were similarly encircled, ever on alert that the Yuuzhan Vong might one day decide to fold their myriad battle groups into a single armada and strike at Mon Calamari from the heart of the galaxy.
Inbound from the hyperspace reversion point well beyond Mon Calamari's single moon, Jaina weaved her X-wing to Ra-lroost., one of the largest and whitest of the ships in orbital dock, and was the last pilot of Twin Suns Squadron to drift into the fleet flagship's spacious though welcoming hold.
A Bothan Assault Cruiser originally commissioned for the defense of Bothawui at the conclusion of the Galactic Civil War, Ralroost was under the command of Admiral Traest Kre'fey, who had emerged from relative obscurity at the start of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion to the position of second in command of the entire Alliance fleet.
The transports had been the first to arrive from Kashyyyk, and many were already docked and disgorging their cargoes of freed prisoners. Despite devastating losses to the starfighter squadrons, the mission had been deemed a success. Dozens of former New Republic officials and scores of commanders had been rescued, and most of Alliance Intelligence's double agents had been extracted. The operation might have gone far worse had the stingcrawler coralskippers arrived sooner than they did, or had the deadly skips pursued the
rts to on Calamari. But instead they had remained at Selvaris
Piiard the Peace Brigade freighters that had yet to be unloaded, to sare&>
, escort those prisoner ships to Coruscant.
Seizing the opportunity, Chief of State Cal Omas's media team , ull the mission into a public relations event meant to send a mes-
to the governments of threatened worlds to hold out; that unlike " fallen New Republic, the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances was
about to allow any more star systems to fall to enemy rule. As a
esult, several hundred military personnel, civilians, and media repre-
entatives were on hand to greet the rescued. Booming applause
erupted for each one to emerge from a transport. Weeping spouses
rushed to embrace their returned partners. Children, clearly confused
bv all the commotion, wrapped their arms tightly around the legs or
waists of their liberated mothers or fathers.
Medics and droids worked side by side to move the injured onto repulsor gurneys and hurry them off for bacta treatment. Most of the rescued, of whatever species, needed little more than minor attention and a couple of hearty meals. Others were in critical condition. The fact that none had been implanted with surge-coral was a constant reminder that they were to have gone to their deaths as sacrificial victims.
Few civilians and no one from the media took notice of the battered starfighters that entered Ralroosfs hold in the wake of the transports. Jaina didn't mind, but she had to laugh. Not all that long ago she had been a media darling, because of her capture of a Yuuzhan Vong ship and the brief role she had played as "the Trickster Goddess"—a weapon unto herself. Now she was just another weary pilot returning from a mission that had nearly gone completely wrong.
Five Twin Suns pilots had died. But that was breaking news only to those who had survived.
A human crew chief rolled a ladder up to Jaina's X-wing while the •anopy Was rising. Two crash-team techs rushed in to effect repairs and check on carbon-scored Cappie.
Welcome back, Colonel," the young woman said.
Jaina descended the ladder, took off her helmet, and shook out
brown hair. Loosening the tabs of her flight suit, she put the
helmet under her arm and began to circle the X-wing, her eyes scan ning the hold for signs of Millennium Falcon. Not too far away, LOvv bacca, Kyp, and Alema Rar were emerging from their craft.
"Has there been any communication from the Falcon*.'1'' she asked the crew chief after she had completed a second circle of th starfighter.
The woman undipped a datapad from her belt and gave the small display screen a perfunctory glance. "Not that I'm aware of, Colonel But the Falcon might have been directed into one of the frigates."
Jaina forced an exhale. When the crew chief started to move off Jaina grabbed hold of her arm—forcefully, until she realized what she had done and relaxed her grip.
"Could you check on that?"
The woman frowned and rubbed her bicep.
"Please," Jaina added.
This time the crew chief spent a long moment studying the data screen of her portable device.
"Sorry, Colonel, no sign of the Fa-Icon anywhere." She smiled sympathetically. "If I hear anything, I'll find you."
Starfighters and gunships were still arriving—some on a wing and prayer. Jaina moved to the edge of a balcony that overlooked the docking bay's magcon field. Gazing out at all the moving lights, the octagonal shipyards, and the distant orbital Fleet Command Annex, she stretched out with her feelings. At the edge of her awareness she could sense that her mother and father were alive, but in grave danger. Her mind made up, she hurried back to the starfighter and clambered up the ladder to the cockpit.
"I'm going back out," she informed the puzzled crew chief.
"Sir?"
Jaina pulled her helmet on and settled herself in the seat. "If anyone asks, I'm back at the Mon Eron reversion point."
The young woman grew flustered. "But your ship . . . your droid!"
Jaina fastened her chin strap as the canopy was lowering. "They're used to it."
for all the worldshaping and geologic surgery performed on Cor-Westport, north of the former Legislative District, remained a
11 SL*^ ^
,. area. Its floating platforms, docking bays, and maintenance
•ldin£s nad been slagged, and in their place stood grashals and
•i mollusklike housings, scattered across a vast expanse of fused
., corai tableland, with room enough for more than ten thousand
els Though few would recognize it, the aerodrome had fared far
better than Eastport, Newport, or West Championne.
Roval coralcraft had transported Shimrra's retinue from the world-hip Citadel—which rose to the east, atop what had once been the Imperial District—to within a kilometer of Westport. Once back on the ground, the Supreme Overlord was conveyed the remaining distance by royal palanquin. The ornate and grotesque litter was held aloft bv a pride of dedicated dovin basals, and was both preceded and trailed bv an entourage of servants and courtesans, as well as by the most recent additions to Shimrra's company—the four female seers, and members of the newly enhanced warrior sect known as slayers.
Strewn with flowers trampled to airborne fragrance by the bare feet of attendants, the winding path to the landing field meandered over the rounded summits of crushed edifices and across countless bridges that spanned those artificial canyons the Yuuzhan Vong had been unable to fill or otherwise efface. Choirs of insects honored the gods with their trilling songs, and carrion birds picked at the vestiges of the plague of s
tink beetles. The sky was a radiant purple, with the rainbow bridge faintly visible, halfway to apogee.
But the flawless sky belied the melancholy nature of the proces-
;1on, for all who formed it knew of the events that had transpired at
*lvaris. The enemy had somehow learned of the Peace Brigade
)nvoy and had ambushed it, recapturing many of the captives who
e slated to be sacrificed at the imminent ceremony. Quick action
the part of a Yuuzhan Vong commander had resulted in the escape
three Peace Brigade freighters, which had communicated the
nv°v's distress to Yuuzhan'tar. A band of slayers had been dis-
tled, and had performed brilliantly, much to the displeasure of
many an elite warrior, who regarded the slayers as abominations to th caste system, and who fretted about the augmentative power they Divided the Supreme Overlord.
Nom Anor walked several paces behind the skull-adorned palanqui in a group that included High Priest Jakan, Master Shaper Qelah Kwaad' Warmaster Nas Choka, High Prefect Drathul, and other elites. He had
been worried about receiving blame for the Peace Brigade's failure th
back-stabbing group was essentially his creation—but thus far no one had been inclined to hold him responsible. His defense would have remained unchanged, in any event: that acts of treachery were only as successful as the traitors who perpetrated them.
The Peace Brigade freighters had not been allowed to land on Yuuzhan'tar, but their non-Yuuzhan Vong commanders and crews had been shuttled to the surface by yorik-trema. With them had arrived the Alliance captives, along with the commanders and crews of the Yuuzhan Vong escort vessels. The latter groups were kneeling in ranks in an area of the landing field reserved for the naming, blessing, and tattooing of war vessels. Herded off to one side and immobilized by blorash jelly were the Alliance captives, and in the center of the field, flung down on their faces, lay the Peace Brigaders.
Nom Anor considered that Shimrra might order the procession to trample the prostrate Brigaders, but instead the Supreme Overlord called a halt to the entourage when his palanquin had reached the center of the field. The mixed-species lot of already battered turncoats knew enough to remain facedown on the rough ground, while High Priest Jakan's acolytes, joined by Onimi, circulated among them, anointing them with paaloc incense and venogel.
