Star Wars - New Jedi Order - Force Heretic III - Reunion - Book 19

by Sean Williams

  "Just do it. Get it out of here now! It doesn't matter where. I'll get the Falcon moving, too, perhaps as a decoy. Any chance at all is better than none!"

  Gantree blinked wide, frightened eyes at her. Leia sensed the Sullustan's fear, but she didn't have time to reassure her. If they were going to save the relay base then Something clattering in the air lock distracted her. She turned in unison with the Sullustan to see that the Ugnaught had returned. Through the thick, Esfandian air that had filled the chamber it was hard to tell exactly what was going on, but it looked as though he'd tripped headlong over the threshold and now lay sprawled faceup on the floor. As Leia watched, he struggled to his feet, edging away from the open air lock with his back to the window. Seconds later, Leia saw the cause of his fear.

  A human-shaped figure in an enviro-suit stepped into the air lock, a glowing violet lightsaber raised, ready to strike.

  Relief tightened Leia's throat. "Jaina!" "I came as soon as I could," came her daughter's voice over the intercom. "You felt me?" "Felt that something was wrong. I homed in on you

  just in time to catch this little one trying to set up his pet villip."

  At that moment, the Ugnaught feinted and made a break for the door. Jaina gestured with her free hand and he flew against a wall, arms and legs spread wide.

  Another figure appeared in the door. Leia sensed the two talking to each other, although she couldn't tap into their internal comm system without wearing a suit of her own.

  "Droma says there's something going on above," Jaina said as the two of them worked at the obstruction holding the external door open. "Looks like the fighting's started again. We'll let ourselves in while you go check to see if Pellaeon's sent some telemetry."

  Leia nodded, her relief at the timely rescue turning once again to worry. Whatever had broken the stalemate, it couldn't bode well for the Imperial forces. They were still outnumbered.

  Besides, this wasn't the way the plan was supposed to go. If Jaina and the others had successfully destroyed the transponder tower, making it look as if the relay base had been destroyed, there should be no reason for Commander Vorrik to stick around any longer. He could leave, mission accomplished and honor intact, leaving the Galactic Alliance to sift through the wreckage. So why was he still here?

  The crisis with the villip safely averted, her thoughts turned out to the rest of the planet, and beyond. The battle may have been won, but the course of the war was still very much to be decided.

  Something anxious and troubling chewed at her stomach. What had gone wrong?

  A chill went down Jacen's spine. "You've decided to fight," he said, trying to fathom the words coming from his former teacher with the same

  veneration as if Vergere herself were speaking. "Is that what you're telling me?"

  "That is not what I said." Sekot turned on him and fixed him with a piercing stare. "I said that I had a choice, and that I have tried both of the options already. I fought off the Far Outsiders. Then, I fled the fire of the inner galaxy, seeking the outer darkness so that I might be aloneso that I might be safe. And for many years I was just that. Then you came to disturb my peace."

  "The Yuuzhan Vong came first," he reminded the living planet.

  "You both invade my Sanctuary." "But with different intentions." The image of Vergere's feathered eyebrows went up in surprise. "You presume a lot, young Jedi," Sekot said. "Without knowing what the Far Outsiders said to me, what they demanded of me, or what they tried to take from me, you seem confident to speak of their intentions."

  Jacen bowed his head apologetically. "You're right, of course." He raised his eyes to meet those of Vergere. "Nevertheless, you must have seen something different about us. You allowed us to land, after all; the Yuuzhan Vong you simply destroyed."

  "The Jedi have never openly meant me harm, and I have learned much from you in the past. There is much I have left to learn, and you can help with that, under the right circumstances. Many people here remember your kind, and would have been keen to have you here, but for your war."

  "We're here in search of peace, not war," Jacen said, injecting every word with as much sincerity as he could muster.

  "How can I give you peace?"

  Jacen shook his head. This was the question that had haunted him ever since his teacher's death "I don't know,"

  he admitted. "But there has to be something, otherwise Vergere would never have sent us in the first place."

  "I could give you weapons to help you fight your war," Sekot said. "The Far Outsiders are invisible to the life flows that the first Magister called the Potentium and that you Jedi call the Force, but that does not make them utter abominations. Ever since their first attack, I have been examining fragments of destroyed vessels, seeking to understand the principles by which they operate."

  "Back-engineering their technology," Danni said.

  "Precisely. Much that I found was confusing and disturbing, but I took what I could and made it my own. My living ships and weapons bear similarities to those of the Far Outsiders, and few of their weaknesses."

  Jacen felt his breath catch in his throat. Was this why Vergere had sent them to Sekot? Part of him was excited by the thought of beating the Yuuzhan Vong at their own game, but it didn't ring true with what he remembered of his teacher. He doubted she had intended for them to find superweapons to help destroy the Yuuzhan Vong. A deeper understanding of their enemy, yes, and perhaps a new weakness, but not another means of wreaking slaughter.

  "What's wrong, Jacen?" Sekot asked him. "You don't look pleased."

  "I guess I'm not," he said. "I don't think that's why we're here."

  "You're not here to get our help in the war?" Jabitha asked.

  "We are, yes. But not like that."

  "Then how? What else do we have to offer you?"

  "I don't know."

  The image of his teacher crooked one eye higher than the other in a distinctly avian gesture. "I am a force unlike anything you have come across before," Sekot said. "Are you trying to tell me that were I to offer myself as a

  weapon in your fight against the Far Outsiders, you would turn me down?"

  Jacen felt Saba and Danni staring at him, and for a moment two words warred with his thoughts.

  Yesbecause he was tired of death and destruction and the endless cycle of violence. A military victory for the Galactic Alliance would require the utter genocide of the Yuuzhan Vong species. How could he possibly live with himself if he was in any way responsible for something like that?

  And nobecause he could see no other way to defend those he loved. If there was no other option but military might, he couldn't stand by and watch his friends and family be slaughtered. His conscience would be clear to turn down the offer of such a weapon, he knew, but what was a moral victory if in the end it meant the deaths of trillions?

  The weight of the future might rest heavily upon what he would say next, yet Jacen felt incredibly small at that moment. With a word he could change the course of the war, and therefore the destiny of his people.

  "Well?" Sekot prompted. "What is your answer?"

  "No."

  The word seemed to echo in Luke's mind as he imagined generations of children who might not live if the Galactic Alliance failed in the fight against the Yuuzhan Vongchildren such as his own son, Ben. He saw every species of the galaxy enslaved to the biological slave machine of Supreme Overlord Shimrraevery cell screaming rebellion, but every limb yoked in an endless cycle of pain and despair. With such images in his mind, could he really afford to turn down the means to the galaxy's salvation that Sekot might bring?

  "You would accept such an offer?" said the image of

  Anakin Skywalker, face tipped forward as though seeking reassurance that he'd heard correctly.

  Luke nodded slowly, deliberately. "I would."

  But even as he spoke the words, he couldn't help but wonder if, in accepting the offer, he might be straying too close to the dark side, or encouraging Sekot to do so ...<
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  "Then consider the offer made," Sekot said, smiling broadly.

  Behind Luke, the Ferroans gasped as one. This they hadn't expectedand neither had Luke.

  "What about all this talk about wanting peace and to be left alone?" Mara asked. She made no attempt to hide her suspicions.

  "I still desire those things," Sekot said. "I just know that I cannot have them here, or while the Far Outsiders trouble this galaxy. So my offer is for my benefit as much as it is your own."

  "But, Sekot," Rowel spluttered, "what of Sanctuary?"

  "Sanctuary has already been irreparably shattered," Sekot answered. "You see, the escape of the coralskipper from the moon M-Three was not entirely fiction. One vessel did manage to escape my net during the attack, and we must presume that that ship is returning to its masters to report on my whereabouts."

  The words provoked a look of both horror and surprise on the faces of Darak and Rowel. Horror for Sekot's decision to help the Jedi, and surprise, perhaps, because even their godlike planet had not been able to prevent one of the enemy's ships from escaping.

  Sekot must have seen this in their expressions, too.

  "I guess I am not as all-powerful as you think me," it said to the Ferroans. To Mara and Luke it added "Nor you. Is that a sobering thought?"

  Pellaeon observed the demise of the transponder with something approaching satisfaction. The explosion showed

  as a white-hot dimple bulging up through the dense atmosphere, accompanied by a sharp electromagnetic crack. It was unmistakable, even through the flash and scatter of the battle above.

  Now, Vorrik, he thought. Let's see what you're really made of. Will you turn tail and flee, or have I stung your pride enough to make you stay around, for one final humiliation?

  Kur-hashan seemed to hover, indecisive, as the news sunk in. Pellaeon wondered what was going through the commander's mind. What secret agenda had been confounded? Pellaeon didn't doubt there was one. Expending so much energy to knock out a single communications nexus just didn't make sense. They could have destroyed it days ago simply by pounding the surface of the planet back to molten slag. That they hadn't could only mean one thing they wanted the base intact.

  Pellaeon smiled as Kur-hashan began to come about, preparing for all-out attack.

  "Send the signal," he instructed his aide. "I think it's been long enough." Secrets within secrets . . .

  Imperial and Yuuzhan Vong forces clashed anew, a thousand bright flashes lighting up the dark world below. TIE fighter hunted coralskipper; capital ships turned their prodigious energies against each other; shields burned a million different colors, dissipating deadly forces in all directions. From the planet below, the skies of Esfandia would be burning bright, as they never had before.

  Pellaeon stood firm on the bridge as Kur-hashan bore down on him. The hideous, mottled hull grinned like a dreadful death mask. He imagined Vorrik's rage and anticipation building behind it. An infidel might defy the great commander, but victory in the end was assured. As far as Vorrik would have been concerned, it was only a

  matter of time before his superior forces swept those in his path to the edges of the universe, like dust.

  A ripple of worry spread across the bridge. For the briefest of moments, Pellaeon wondered if Vorrik might be right, if he hadn't miscalculated the timing or gotten the message wrong. A thousand and one things could have gone awry, which was why he hadn't shared the truth with anyone but his aide.

  Then, just as the grinning skull of Kur-hashan seemed to bulge out of the screen at him, a telemetry officer spoke up.

  "Hyperspace signatures, sirdozens of them!"

  Pellaeon let out the breath he'd been holding as ships of all shapes and sizes appeared around Esfandia, a ragtag fleet armed with patchwork cannons and out-of-date missiles. What they lacked in top-of-the-line hardware, though, they more than made up for with surprise and guts. They threw themselves against the warship and its attendant craft, pounding dovin basals and cutting great swaths out of yorik coral. For a minute, it looked as though the alien behemoth might recover its poise, and its control of the situation with it, but with atmosphere and bodies venting in more than a dozen places, and dovin basals failing in great ripples along one flank, the tide quickly turned. A gunboat with unfamiliar markings stitched a line of fiery death down the giant living vessel's spine. Two very unsteady-looking corvettes, working in tandem, took out a yammosk-bearing support ship. A heavily shielded drone freighter spun out of control into Kur-hashan's midsection and blew up as though it had been loaded from stem to stern with high explosives.

  "Incoming transmission!" his comm officer announced. "It's from the enemy."

  Pellaeon smiled.

  Vorrik's hideous visage appeared before him. The commander's bridge was shaking behind him, and the image was fuzzy, as though the room was filling with smoke.

  Pellaeon made a gesture to his aide, out of Vorrik's sight.

  " I take it you wish to surrender, Vorrik?"

  The warrior snarled. "You cannot defeat us, infidel."

  "Five minutes ago I would have said the same thing," Pellaeon said. "But now ..."

  "You may kill us, but you will not defeat us! You will never defeat us!"

  With a roar from the commander, the communication ended. Pellaeon knew what was about to happen. "Full shields immediately!" he commanded. "He's going to blow his drives!"

  The order spread among the Imperial and other ships harassing the giant destroyer. Just as Kur-hashan's surviving engines surged forward and something deep in its belly began to erupt, every ship within range shunted all power away from attack to defense. The commander's final gesture was wasted. For all the fury of the dying warship, all the energy expended in one wild rush and all the Yuuzhan Vong lives lost, it did little more than nudge Right to Rule slightly off course.

  And when the titanic fireball had dwindled to embers, the odds were better than even.

  "Transmission from Pride of Selonia."

  "Put it through," Pellaeon ordered. "My station only."

  He turned as a holo image of Captain Mayn appeared behind him.

  "Congratulations, Grand Admiral," she said. "I presume you knew all along what was going to happen."

  "That Vorrik would self-destruct rather than surrender? No, but it was a good bet he'd prefer to go out kicking. I may not have as much experience with the Yuuzhan Vong as you, but I know their type; I know the way they think. They never bend; all they can do is break, with an eye to the spectacular."

  Mayn smiled. "Actually, I was referring to the other ships. Where did they come from? Who are they?"

  "Friends of yours, I believe. They told me about Esfandia after Generis. They suggested I come here to avoid another catastrophe. They also said reinforcements wouldn't be far behind, if I needed them. I could summon them by transmitting a code phrase on a particular frequency. When Vorrik attacked rather than giving up the game, I figured the time had come."

  "That was quite a gamble, sir."

  "You have a problem with the way it turned out, Captain?"

  Mayn smiled briefly. "Not at all, Admiral. I might have done the same thing myself, given the circumstances. I'm just trying to work out who these 'friends' of ours are, though."

  "I was hoping you could tell me," Pellaeon said. "All I know is that they're calling themselves the Ryn network."

  Understanding and puzzlement collided on Mayn's face. "Really? Well, I suppose they could've called in some favors, here and there, but I never suspected they'd have this sort of influence."

  "So you do know something about them?"

  Mayn nodded. "A little. But you might want to talk to Princess Leia and Captain Solo to find out the full story."

  With that, Mayn saluted, and the transmission ended. Pellaeon turned back to his duties, nodding thoughtfully to himself.

  "Believe me," he muttered, "I intend to."

  "Yes."

  Stunned silence fell about the rain-soaked pit in the w
ake of Jacen's answer to Sekot. He could feel Saba and Danni looking at him, uncomprehending. How could he have said that? their eyes asked. How could he have damned countless millions to unspeakable misery?

  He turned away from them both, not wanting their silent accusations. Deep in his heart he knew he'd made the right decision, and two voices in his mind reassured him of that. The first belonged to Wynssa Fel, who had said to him on Csilla The weapon at your side seems out of place on a man who professes to hate violence. The second voice belonged to his uncle How do we fight a brutal, evil enemy without becoming brutal and evil ourselves?

  Somewhere between those two statements lurked the justification for his decision. It was the most difficult decision he'd ever had to make, and one he could not explain in a few words to either Danni or Saba. It pained him to think of what the ramifications of his decision might be for the rest of the galaxy, but he wasn't about to back down from the stand he was making. Saying yes to Zonama Sekot had been a show of strength, not an act of weakness.

  "After traveling as far as you have to beseech my help," Sekot said, "you reject my offer. Are you sure?"

  "I stand by my decision," he answered soberly.

  "Jacen ..." Danni's objection petered out with a bewildered shake of her head.

  "Military might is not what we need," he tried to explain. "I cannot countenance destruction as a solution to the threat of destruction. In the long run, such a victory would only bring about our own downfall." He faced Sekot once again. "I'm sorry, but I cannot accept your offer."

  The image of his former teacher smiled. "Nevertheless, I have decided to join your cause."

  Jacen frowned at Sekot's unnaturally dry image. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that you have achieved what you set out to do," Sekot said. "I shall return with you to your war.

  Whether or not I can make a difference, of course, remains to be seen."

  Vergere's image moved over to where Jacen stood, his mind still numb with shock. To his surprise, the arm Vergere's image placed around his waist exerted a faint pressure, like heavy fog.

  "We are done with running," Sekot told him, softly, so only he could hear. "We must find a way to end this war. Perhaps together we can work out which way we must go. Not just for ourselves, but for the sake of all life within the galaxy."