He leaned forward to speak into the communicator.
" Low power only, " Han said, letting the droid through. "And if they can't tell us anything about the relay base, we're not going to sit here and chat. We're not the only ones listening. "
C-3PO performed the droid equivalent of clearing his throat, then warbled a series of strange, fluting tones into Esfandia's dense atmosphere. Leia tried to discern a pattern to it, but it was pointless. To her ears it sounded like three deranged flutists bickering over which melody to play.
When it was done, C-3PO straightened in satisfaction.
"I have broadcast a request for information on the location of the vrgrlmrl. "
"Verger-what?" Han said.
"Vrgrlmrl the relay base, " C-3PO repeated casually, the burbling phrase rolling effortlessly from his vocal box. "If they reply, we will know-"
He paused as a stronger signal from the comm filled the cabin.
"Oh, my, " the droid said, looking almost anxiously to the others around him. "I fear something got lost in translation. They misunderstood my request for information as an invitation. "
"An invitation to what?" Han asked.
" I'm not sure. But if I may try again, sir, I might-"
"Spare us the details, " Han said. "Just get them talking. "
C-3PO burbled out another string of nonsensical sounds. The reply was immediate, although this time it was as if multiple voices had joined the conversation. And if before it had sounded like three flutists bickering, now it sounded like the entire orchestra had gotten involved in the argument.
Droma had his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to keep the cacophony out. "I haven't heard anything like this since I attended a benefit for a tone-deaf Pa'lowick- and boy, those guys could wail. "
"Are you getting anything useful?" Han asked, rapping on C-3PO's bronzed casing.
The droid broke off his conversation. "Indeed, sir. For the most part the Brrbrlpp, as they call themselves, are a sociable species, and are happy to talk. They are familiar with the relay base, but will not reveal its location until they are certain we mean it no harm."
"Well, then, what are you waiting for? Reassure them, already. "
"I have alread y done so, sir, but I'm afraid it will take more than that to convince them. " C-3PO hesitated, looking to each person in the cockpit.
"What is it, Threepio?" Leia asked.
"Well, Princess, it seems that in the eyes of the Brrbrlpp, we are murderers and therefore untrustworthy. "
"Murderers?" Han rasped. "We're not the ones bombarding their planet. We're trying to stop it!"
"It's not the bombardment that concerns them, sir. They claim that we have killed fifteen of their people since we arrived. "
"What? When are we supposed to have done that?"
"They say that the voices of their friends were silenced when we crossed their paths."
With a sickening sensation, Leia thought again of the strange flower shapes that had brushed by the Falcon, dissolving in the freighter's turbulent, superheated wake.
"Stop the engines, " she told her husband.
"What? Leia, you can't be-"
"Do it, Han, " she insisted. "Switch off the repulsors- everything. Do it now before we kill someone else!"
Han complied, although it was clear from the expression on his face he didn't understand why. The Falcon settled slowly to the bottom of the trench, and when a quiet had washed over the ship, Leia explained her theory of what these aliens were.
"We didn't know, " Han said, pale-faced at the idea of having inadvertently killed so many intelligent beings. "Tell them that, Threepio. Explain to them that there was no way we could have known. "
"I will try, sir, but I don't think it will make much difference to their feelings toward us. "
"There has to be something we can say to change their minds. "
Leia put a hand on her husband's shoulder as, out of the darkness, one of the flower shapes drifted toward them. Now that she could see it properly, she saw how its edges rippled to provide motion, moving it through the atmosphere. A ring of photosensors studded its interior, along with radial lines of swirling cilia. Behind the cilia, through the creature's semitransparent flesh, she could see a complicated skeleton keeping the alien's "petals" rigid, as well as gently pulsing darker patches that might have been internal organs. And behind all that, tapering off into the distance, was a long, whiplike tail.
There was no sense of up or down, or of a face, and yet she knew it was watching them.
"Can they hurt us?" Droma whispered, as though worried the creature might overhear him.
"I doubt it, " Han said, but he didn't sound confident.
Leia felt a faint rippling through the Force as a second alien joined the first. It was in turn quickly joined by a third. There was no doubt now that they were alive. More came, wafting in on the heavy currents of Esfandia's atmosphere, until the ship was surrounded by a ring of mysterious flowers.
We killed their friends, she thought bitterly to herself. We killed their family.
Somehow she didn't think that sorry was about to make up for that.
Saba smelled the thunderstorm long before she heard it. Her sensitive nostrils twitched at the moisture on the air, filtered through the tampasi and redolent with spores and sap. Within minutes she could hear rain sweeping across the treetops, driven at a sharp angle by powerful, gusting winds. Before long she could hear the sound of the water escaping the boras leaves high above and trickling down in streams to the ground.
The Ferroans had provided their guests with rolled-up sleeping pads and thick, coarse blankets. Following a light supper, Jacen, Danni, and Mara had decided to take advantage of the situation and rest, while Master Sky-walker and Doctor Hegerty stayed up to talk. Saba stayed awake, also, despite being tired. She still didn't completely trust their hosts, and wanted to keep watch for the others. She remained on her pad the entire time, with eyes closed and ears opened, listening to everything happening around her-including the conversation between Master Skywalker and Hegerty.
"-mentioned the Potentium to Jacen, " Master Sky-walker was saying. "She didn't give him many details, though, and I've never heard of it. Have you?"
"No, " the elderly human scholar replied. "But mind you, the study of the Force isn't really my field. "
"What about the Ferroans, then? Is there anything about them you think I should know?"
"Well, I'm sure you've noticed their intolerance toward us, " the doctor said. "Not that I can blame their suspicion. They've been contacted by strangers six times that we know of three times by Jedi, including us; twice by the Yuuzhan Vong; and once by Tarkin and his Old Republic forces. Three times they've been attacked, and each time it happened, the Jedi were there. Once you could forget; twice you could forgive; but three times?"
"I know what you mean, " Luke said. "I can't blame them, either, for thinking that way. But it's our job to change their minds. Otherwise this whole quest will have been a waste of time. "
Rain crackled gently on the roof of the mushroomlike habitat, although inside was warm and dry. Saba could feel faint tendrils of life trickling through its capillaries. It seemed to like the rain, and much of the warmth was generated as a result of the pleasure it felt.
They talked further, but Saba was finding herself more and more seduced by exhaustion and the notion of sleep. Nearby she could make out the restive breathing of those sleeping around her, and she found herself soothed by the rhythm along with the rain on the rooftop. She fought the sleep for a moment longer, feeling that perhaps she should continue to keep alert for the others. But then, Master Skywalker was still awake, and he was more than able to keep an eye out for everyone's well-being. There really was no reason to stay alert...
Jag took the shot on his port shields and stuttered his engines as though he'd been hit. His clawcraft went into a wild tumble, careening dangerously across the battlefield. Stars slewed around him in a disorienting tangl
e, and he had to rely on his instincts in ways rarely called upon to make sure he was heading in the right direction. Only when the scarred bulk of the dead gunship loomed vertiginously over him did he kill the illusion-and then just for a split second.
Everything depended on him being able to convince those that saw him that his "death roll" was genuine, while at the same time maintaining enough control over his ship to ensure he wasn't actually killed.
A fraction of a second before colliding with the gun-ship, he fired his laser cannons. The resulting explosion boiled yorik coral in a great plume from the gunship, enveloping him in fire and debris. For a brief moment, he was actually cushioned by the blast-a situation he had initially feared might be untenable, until he checked the rating on his shields and found that they could take it. Inertial dampeners soaked up his residual momentum and brought him and his clawcraft to a creaking halt deep within the hull of the ruined gunship.
It had been a rough ride, and it took him a minute to get himself back together and make sure everything was still in one piece. His shields were recharging, the body of his starfighter was still rigid, and his weapons systems were still working. So far, so good.
The view through his forward canopy was like something he'd expect to find at the heart of a sun. The impact had unleashed a lot of energy on the dying gunship's interior, energy it wasn't designed ever to see. Molten decking bubbled against his shields, burning in what little atmosphere remained in the leaky hulk. Organic components released noxious fumes as they decomposed in the extraordinary heat. Jag imagined a plume of debris and particles spewing from the hole he'd left in the gunship's side. At least he hoped there was; that had been the plan, anyway.
He clicked his communicator. Unwilling to risk revealing his survival until the time was right, he had explained his proposal to Jocell and Adelmaa'j and told them how to respond should the first stage work out. His one click would tell them he'd survived. Thankfully, he immediately received two clicks in return, which meant that everything had gone according to plan on the outside, too the Yuuzhan Vong had bought the illusion of his destruction. He exhaled heavily in relief, and instantly felt one knot of tension dissolve in his gut. It was time to work on the others.
He searched the wreckage with radar and other instruments. As far as he could tell, it was empty of life, but not completely dead yet. The spine of the ship was still transmitting data, although the "brain" of the living craft was dead and the various limbs it had once coordinated were disconnected. Patches of the yorik coral that comprised the hull would live for some time yet, even if, as a whole, it was beyond hope. And in places, surviving off scraps of nutrients and energy sources circulating irregularly through the infrastructure, were five clusters of dovin basals, the miniature black-hole generators that the Yuuzhan Vong used for propulsion, defense, and attack.
Jag nodded to himself, pleased with the situation.
He fired up his engines again. The clawcraft shifted in the wreckage, then settled as his shields got a better grip. He slowly upped the power, relying on the fighter's instruments-possibly scrambled by the impact-to tell him where he was going. No further clicks came from his wingmates, so he had to assume everything was still going according to plan. He pushed the engines to their maximum power before, gradually, creakingly, the ruined gunship began to accelerate.
Another two clicks from the outside confirmed that his reaction wake was being camouflaged by the vapor plume. Anyone studying the gunship's wreckage would simply assume that its interior was aflame and disregard it.
Ho pefully there were too many other things to worry about-the Star Destroyers, the Imperial squadrons, and the two pesky Galactic Alliance fighters nipping at anything that seemed to be paying too close attention. And while they were busy with that, Jag could get started on the next stage of his plan.
Using the laser cannon as a surgeon would wield a vibroscalpel, he began to sculpt the interior of the gunship. Taking great care to avoid the weight-bearing stanchions against which his starfighter pressed, he cut great chunks out of the spaces around him and let them fall back into the exhaust plume. Relatively speaking, the thrust his starfighter could apply to the gunship was small, since the gunship massed many times more than his engine was used to propelling. He couldn't do anything about thrust, but he could affect the mass he was pushing against. By eating away at the gunship from the inside and letting the pieces tumble back into the wake, he could gradually increase the effect his clawcraft's engine was having. And that this inert wreck was suddenly accelerating across the skies of Esfandia wouldn't necessarily arouse the Yuuzhan Vong's suspicions. In large space battles, active debris was a common and occasionally dangerous hazard.
Another two clicks confirmed that he was on course and, as yet, unnoticed. His engines were redlining, but he figured they could sustain the effort for the ten minutes required of them. While the battle swirled around him, he moved the hulk slowly but surely to the northern flank. The attention of his cutting lasers encroached, meter by meter, to the hull. Red-hot wreckage boiled and burned around him, and every now and then he would come across a lifeless body that he had to force himself to ignore, and carry on. Each one he came across reminded him just how crazy this plan of his really was.
If it caught the Yuuzhan Vong off guard, he told himself, if only for a second, then it would all be worthwhile.
"Admiral, Twin One appears to be intending to ram that ruined gunship!"
Pellaeon's gaze didn't shift from the display to look at the officer standing beside him. "I can see what he's doing, Commander. "
"But sir, the Yuuzhan Vong have collision avoidance systems at least as good as ours. They're not about to let wreckage drift into their ships. If they suspect the gun-ship is to be used as a ram, they'll simply blow it out of the sky! What could he possibly hope to achieve by doing this?"
"He hopes to surprise me, of course. And them in the process. "
Despite his belief in the young Jagged Fel's abilities, Pellaeon couldn't help but feel some apprehension. He'd wanted something solid and disconcerting from the Chiss pilot, certainly, but he hadn't expected quite so dramatic a response as this.
Meanwhile, the disposition of the battle hadn't changed. The Yuuzhan Vong still outnumbered the Imperial and Galactic Alliance forces, and they were still amassing their forces in the northern flank. The alien corvette and cruiser had managed to repel all attempts to place a yammosk jammer between them. That remained a potential flashpoint. If it ignited, Esfandia might return to Yuuzhan Vong control.
But he was determined not to let that happen on his watch. He'd sooner ram the Yuuzhan Vong warships himself than allow that.
"Any sign of the Falcon yet?" he asked his aide.
"No, sir. It must still be down in the atmosphere. "
He wondered whether he should send reinforcements down to the surface. The Galactic Alliance forces hadn't done so, but that was probably because they simply didn't have the resources to spare. His last conversation with Captain Mayn had ended on a notably cool note; perhaps an offer to assist would help bridge the gap.
His aide soon had her on the line, and he explained the situation as clearly as he could without spelling out every detail. He never entrusted confidential information to any sort of broadcast medium, no matter how secure the line was thought to be.
"So if you need any assistance in that regard, " he concluded, "I'd be only too happy to offer. "
Mayn was shaking her head before he'd finished. "Thanks, Admiral, but that won't be necessary. We received a low-power coded transmission from the Falcon a short time ago ordering us to deter any further incursions into the planet's atmosphere as a matter of some urgency. I was about to pass it on to you, in fact, when you called. "
Pellaeon absorbed this. It didn't sound like a simple everything's-under-control-no-help-required instruction. One didn't normally issue orders requesting urgent inaction without good reason.
"Do they know about the Vong patr
ols scouting the planet?" he asked.
"I advised them of that myself. "
"And they still don't want anyone to watch their back while they're down there?"
"They were quite specific about that. "
"Did they offer any explanation as to why?"
"No, sir. The message was brief. They simply said they would explain in due course, when their location was less sensitive. "
"What is their location?"
"That I don't know, sir, " Captain Mayn replied expressionlessly. "The signal was too diffuse and brief to obtain a precise lock on-which I assume was the intention. "
Pellaeon frowned. Did Captain Mayn really not know, or was she holding out on the information per instructions from her superiors? It seemed reasonable to assume that the Falcon was looking for the relay team. That wasn't a problem in itself. He simply hated being left in the dark.
"Thank you, Captain, " he said, no longer caring to soften his tone in the interest of public relations. "In future, please keep me promptly informed of any such developments. "
"Understood, sir. "
The Galactic Alliance captain signed off, and Pellaeon turned away from the screen to consider what she had and hadn't told him. Part of him wondered if he was naive in assuming that he could trust this group of Galactic Alliance forces in the same way that Luke Skywalker and his associates had proved that they could be trusted. Yes, Leia Organa Solo was Luke's twin sister, but she'd been trained in the art of politics-and politicians had too many fingers in too many pies to be taken at face value...
"Admiral?"
At the sound of his aide's voice, he turned from his disquieting thoughts. "What is it?"
"I have a text message from Colonel Fel, sir, relayed through Twin Nine. "
"What does he say?"
"He says 'Get ready. ' "
Pellaeon glanced at the displays showing the northern flank. The gutted gunship's path was a dotted line passing between the two major targets in that region. The Chiss pilot was clearly going to miss both ships by a healthy margin.
Star Wars - New Jedi Order - Force Heretic III - Reunion - Book 19 Page 13
