"Fy'y Roog! Fy'y Roog!" Ten thousand members of the shaper class, dressed in stainless white, howled their pride, fear, and obedience as the belly of the great craft passed over them.
Beyond the three giant formations of priests, warriors, and shapers, massed workers cried nothing, but simply flung themselves onto their faces, groveling in submission to the great shadow as it passed before the sun.
Shamed Ones, mutilated and crippled and barred from the ceremony, hid in their barracks or workhouses and shivered in fear.
The smallest group, the twelve hundred members of the intendant class, stood motionless in three long lines in front of the three larger formations of Yuuzhan Vong, each member in his long green cloak. They did not shout, but stood in perfectly disciplined silence, arms crossed over their chests, as the massive craft moved silently overhead.
If we had a battle cry, thought Nom Anor from the second rank, it would probably be Have you triple-checked this order with your superiors'? For it was the intendants who administered the new empire of the Yuuzhan Vong, and tried to balance the competing claims for resources among the other castes. A task that grew harder, it seemed, even as victory followed victory and more resources became available.
For years now, since before the time he had poisoned Imperial Interim Ruling Council members in the cause of Xandel Carivus, Nom Anor had been living among the enemy as a spy and saboteur. In the service of the Yuuzhan Vong, he had spun his treachery and left a trail of bodies across half the galaxy.
It had almost been enough to forget that the normal job of an intendant was a bureaucratic one.
Rainbows spiraled off the craft's great unfolded wings, dovin basals with their space-warping capabilities tuned to the spectrum of light. The great shadow hovered over the massive cradle that had been built for it, then slowly, majestically, descended.
Another great cry roared up from the triumphant multitude as the huge craft settled into its cradle like a monarch slowly sitting on his throne. Dazzling, spinning rainbows reached into the heavens, cast brilliant light onto the plaza where the Yuuzhan Vong masses waited. Beneath the ship, hidden from view, the living craft and the living cradle joined, linking power and communications and resource systems so that the craft now drew its nourishment from the planet, and the Supreme Overlord was in direct contact with the World Brain, the dhuryam that controlled the remaking of Yuuzhan'tar, formerly known as Coruscant, capital of both the New and Old Republics.
The Supreme Overlord's craft, ship and palace in one, was now joined with its cradle, just as the spaceborn Yuuzhan Vong had settled onto the conquered worlds that their gods had promised diem. The craft would remain here permanently, its rainbow-edged wings outstretched over this world the Yuuzhan Vong had conquered. The conquered world would be altered from the bedrock up to re-create the legendary homeworld of the Yuuzhan Vong, lost long ago in another galaxy.
At the moment the shout went up, Nom Anor began to feel an itching at the base of his toes. He resisted the impulse to bend and scratch, or to scrape one boot over the other. The Yuuzhan Vong did not regard bodily discomfort as significant. Only those who had most successfully embraced pain and mutilation were promoted to the highest degrees. Surely an itch could be overcome.
As if to dispute this claim, the itch increased its fury. Nom Anor found that it was all he could do to keep his mind on the ceremony, on the ritual steps and obeisances that prepared the way for the appearance of the Supreme Overlord.
He panted with the effort to ignore the itch. He alternately stretched and clenched his toes inside his boots, hoping the effort might relieve his torment. It didn't.
Another roar went up from the crowd. Through his single, rainbow-dazzled eye, Nom Anor saw two figures on the summit of the great building.
Shimrra's personal quarters arched up above the plaza like a head on the end of a long neck. At the apex was a circular walkway surrounded by a rail that glittered like mother-of-pearl in the artificial rainbows. Standing amid the brilliance was Supreme Overlord Shimrra, unquestioned leader of the Yuuzhan Vong, sanctioned by the gods to bring all these new worlds under his heel. Norn Anor's eye was so dazzled by rainbows that he could see nothing of Shimrra but a silhouette—-a giant silhouette, towering over the bent, ungainly figure next to him. Onimi, apparently, a member of the Shamed Ones whom the Supreme Overlord had adopted as his familiar.
As Shimrra's loyal subjects bellowed their triumph, several mon duuls waddled out from the shadow of the building. Giant, placid beings weighing four metric tons or more, the creatures had been implanted with specialized, dedicated villips by the shapers who had crafted them, villips that enabled them to receive communications from a master villip employed by the Supreme Overlord. Each mon duul, on receiving a message, could then broadcast it to others in its vicinity through the use of a giant two-meter tympanum of skin that stretched over its belly.
The mon duuls spread out over the plaza, then sat back on their haunches, their tympani directed toward the formations of Yuuzhan Vong. Nom Anor could hear joints cracking as the nearest of the massive creatures settled itself into an upright posture.
The Supreme Overlord's voice, amplified by the tympani in the mon duuls, echoed and reechoed over the plaza, and for a moment Nom Anor forgot his aggravating itch.
"Yuuzhan Vong, conquerors, blessed of the gods! "Shimrra. roared. ccWe have come to the turning point!"
Luke found out the next afternoon why Fyor Rodan had behaved in such an extraordinary way at their meeting. Rodan hadn't been having a conversation; he'd been rehearsing a speech.
"He laid it all out before the Senate this morning," Cal Omas said. "His whole program—the Jedi shouldn't be a privileged group within the state, we should stop spending money on Jedi concerns, a new Jedi Council would be a threat. . ."
"Jedi should just get jobs like every other working stiff," Mara added. Cal laughed.
"How was the speech received?" Luke asked.
Cal Omas clasped his lanky arms behind his head. "I imagine it went down well with the working stiffs. As for the Senators, some agreed, some didn't, some saw it only in political terms. Since Fyor made no motion, just stood up in the Senate and gave his speech and made sure there were plenty of reporters there to cover it, there wasn't a head count one way or another."
"So why did he make the speech at all?"
Triebakk, the Wookiee who served with both Omas and Rodan on the Advisory Council, gave a long series of roars, all translated by the elderly protocol droid that Cal used for a secretary. "He spoke in order to make the Jedi an issue in the upcoming election. Now that he has made his speech, Cal and the other candidates arc forced to respond."
"Whether they want to or not," Luke said.
"Precisely," Cal said. "Fyor's started up a tune, and the rest of us will have to dance to it."
Cal Omas's apartment was cramped and underwater, though built with the usual Mon Calamari attention to elegant design, which made it seem larger than it actually was. A transparent wall looked out onto the floodlit inverted cityscape of Heurkea Floating City, showing Mon Cals and Quarren swimming past or jetting by in their vehicles. Unfortunately, the transparent wall sweated heavily, the air was dank and tasted of brine, the carpet was soggy, and the small sofa that Luke and Mara shared gave off a distinct smell of mildew. There was no security. Cal's protocol droid was beginning to show rust stains. Still, Cal's place was better than most refugees' quarters, and a testimony to his character—he had refused to pull rank and demand better quarters for himself.
Such were the circumstances of the man whom Luke hoped would be the next Chief of State of the New Republic. Even Fyor Rodan's cramped, overflowing hotel suite was more impressive than this.
"I made a response to Fyor's speech," Cal went on. "I said that anyone who had fought alongside the Jedi in the war against Palpatine would never believe that they were a threat to the rest of us, and that it was unfortunate that Rodan lacked the experience."
Tri
ebakk gave a howl of appreciation.
"Clever," Mara said. "Good to point out that while you were fighting for the freedom of the galaxy, Rodan was off selling protocol droids to Lurrians, or whatever."
"That didn't end it, though," Cal said. "CZ-Twelve-R here," nodding at his protocol droid, "has been swamped with messages from reporters wanting to know the details of my 'Jedi program.' "
"And of course," Luke said, "we don't know what that is yet."
"I'm afraid not." Cal leaned his long body forward in his chair and looked at Luke. "I'd like to reestablish the Jedi Council, of course, but I don't know if it's a good idea to say so."
"When all else fails," Mara advised, "fall back on the truth."
Cal Omas gave a look of mock horror. "No! I'm a politician! I can't tell the truth!"
"Seriously, Cal," Mara said, "what can you say?"
Cal Omas hesitated.
"Suppose," Luke offered, "you say that you will bring the Jedi firmly under the control of the government. You don't have to specify how."
"I'll have to give some details," Cal said. "Otherwise it'll seem as if I don't really have a plan at all, and that would be uncomfortably close to the truth, which"—with an amused glance at Mara— "as a politician I absolutely cannot speak."
He frowned. "Luke, can you tell me how the Jedi Council was set up in the past? If we know how it used to work, maybe we can make it work again."
"The Jedi Council was a dozen or so respected Masters," Luke said, "who oversaw the other Jedi and their training, and who reported to the Supreme Chancellor. If the Chancellor saw a problem that required Jedi abilities, he would inform the Council, who would send Jedi to deal with it. Usually not many, because it was well known that behind the first Jedi were a few thousand more. And I imagine that information went both ways—that the Jedi themselves would alert the Supreme Chancellor if their own network of contacts pointed to a problem somewhere."
"A few thousand Jedi," Cal mused, "to cover an entire galaxy."
Mara gave a smug smile. "We're good" she said.
"But there are somewhat less than a few thousand of you now," Cal said. "Which is why we now have a military and a diplomatic service and so on. So how do I counter Fyor's contention that you're redundant?"
"Well," Mara said, "what happens if you need a diplomat who can also practice philosophy, fight with a lightsaber, and levitate small objects? Who else arc you going to call but us?"
Triebakk gave a snarl of amusement. Luke felt a kind of bliss sing through his heart at the fact that Mara could joke again, and he put an affectionate arm around her, after which he decided to ignore the scent of mildew that rose from the pillows.
"Mara has a point," he said. "We provide a specialized service— all-arounders, if you like."
"The Council of All-Arounders." Cal Omas sighed. "I don't think we're getting anywhere."
"Not the Council of All-Arounders," Luke said. "The Chief of State's Special Investigative Service. Your eyes, ears, and sword arm throughout the galaxy. When you need more muscle than a diplomat, and less than a battle cruiser, you send us."
Cal's eyes brightened. "I think you're getting somewhere," he said. "But there are still problems with that scenario. Either they're going to say that you're secretly controlling me and I'm your puppet, or they're going to claim you're a bunch of superpowered clandestine agents whom I'm going to use to subvert the constitution. Probably Fyor will manage to say both things at once." He sighed. "Unfortunately, we're snick with a constitutional, representative, multibranched government, heavily scrutinized by a self-interested media. We're inefficient, divided, and prey to conflicting and contradictory interests— even, and perhaps especially, in moments of crisis."
Triebakk gave a low moan.
Luke gave Triebakk a sharp look. "No," he said. "Never even think of sympathizing with Palpatine."
Triebakk conceded with a graceful bow of his shaggy head.
But even as he spoke to Triebakk, Cal's words seemed to echo for a long moment in Luke's mind. Constitutional, representative, multibranched ... As opposed to what? he wondered. Elite, clandestine, autocratic, threat to the constitution.
The old Jedi had personified the rule of order and the will of the state. But they were also secretive, and removed from the people and their representatives. Their link to the outside was through the Supreme Chancellor, and once a malevolent figure like Palpatine became Chancellor, with his disciple among the Jedi, the Jedi were cut off by the secret enemy, isolated, and destroyed.
The Jedi should never be so isolated again.
He became aware that the others were staring at him.
"Another message from the beyond?" Mara asked.
Luke smiled. "No. At least I don't think so."
"What, then?"
"I think I've worked out how to reestablish the Jedi Council in a way that will disarm Fyor Rodan."
Cal leaned forward. "Tell," he said.
"I had a nagging feeling when I was listening to Fyor Rodan yesterday," Luke began. "The nagging feeling I had," he continued, "was that Rodan was right, in a way. We are doing the jobs that other people are being paid to do. We are asking the government for privileges, and we're asking a great deal of people to believe that we ask in all humility and mean no harm—yet all they have to do is remember Darth Vader, and they'll suspect the contrary."
"And your solution?" Cal looked deeply intrigued.
"Suppose the council isn't composed entirely of Jedi," Luke said. "We can have one member from each of the government branches that might feel threatened by us. Say we have a Senator chosen by the Senate. Someone from the Defense Force. Another representative from the Ministry of State, and another from the Justice Council to make certain we stay within the law. Rodan would have a hard time convincing people that all those representatives were Jedi puppets. Especially if the Chief of State himself was on the council as well."
"The Chief of State or his ambassador," Cal said. "The Chief of State is a busy person."
"Conceded."
Cal frowned as he considered the matter. "You've just given me quite a list. That's five non-Jedi on the Jedi Council."
"Six," Luke corrected, on second thought. "We'd also need someone from the Intelligence division."
"And how many Jedi?" Cal asked. "If we make the council too large, we'll start having the same problems as the Senate—it'll be too big to be effective."
"Six Jedi," Luke said. "That will bring the government representatives into balance with the Jedi."
Cal's long face grew abstract as he considered the implications of the new idea. "That's giving up a lot of the traditional Jedi power," he said.
"It's power we've already lost," Luke said. "We lost it when the old Jedi fell."
Gal's eyes focused, searching Luke's face. "You're sure? You're sure that you're comfortable departing this far from Jedi tradition?"
Luke felt an utter certainty in his answer. "On Ithor, I surrendered the guardianship of the Jedi tradition. I'm content with the idea."
Triebakk gave a triumphant roar.
"And you'd be welcome as the first Senatorial representative," Luke replied. "But the Senate would still have to vote on your nomination."
"And there would have to be security and background checks and so on." Cal continued to think out loud.
Triebakk snarled a reference to the late Viqi Shesh.
"I—" Luke began. And then he felt a touch on his mind, and again he thought, Jacen!
Jacen's presence sang in his head.
"I think we've got another brainstorm here," Mara said. Her voice seemed to be coming from a distant place, somewhere outside the universe.
"I thought I had sent you to your death," Luke said. Dimly he was aware of the shock and sudden concern of the others in the room as they reacted to the words he'd spoken out loud—but not to them.
It was Jacen all right—Luke recognized the ingenuousness, the dry earnestness. But Jacen wasn't all that Luke sens
ed. Hovering remotely in the Force, Luke perceived another presence, one who seemed entirely unfamiliar.
"Is someone else there?" Luke asked.
Vergere. It wasn't a name that floated to him, but a thought, an image, a presence.
Luke took a breath at this direct, surprising confirmation. He had never met the alien personally, but he'd been briefed about her, and had also heard from Han about the defection she'd once staged from the Yuuzhan Vong, along with her redefection in the opposite direction.
He had every reason to be suspicious of Vergere. But on the other hand, Vergere, through her tears, had healed Mara of the disease that had threatened her life. It was Vergere who was responsible for Mara returning from the serious, focused, almost grim person she had become to the laughing, spontaneous woman she had once been, and now was again.
What Luke hadn't known was that Vergere was strong in the Force. He could feel her power, restrained at the moment but perfectly genuine. And it was strangely cloaked—even though they were in telepathic contact, Luke could detect nothing of Vergere's personality or purpose. That bespoke training—Vergere was no mere Force-sensitive with a talent for telepathy; she had been carefully educated.
But where had she received such training? Not at his Jedi academy. And that left a number of dark alternatives—Palpatine, Vader, the Shadow Academy. But why would a Dark Jedi bring Jacen to Luke?
More impressions came from Jacen. A Yuuzhan Vong craft, with its organic scent and resinous walls. Alarm. New Republic ships moving in swarms.
Luke broke contact and turned to his three friends, all of whom were gazing at him with deep concern.
"The short version," he prefaced. "Jacen Solo just contacted me through the Force. He's in the Mon Cal system in a Yuuzhan Vong escape pod, and we've got to stop the military from blowing him up."
Cal's response was immediate. He turned to his protocol droid and said, "Call Fleet Command—priority urgent and immediate. Place another urgent and immediate call to Supreme Commander Sien Sow."
"Yes, Councilor," the droid said.
STAR WARS - THE NEW JEDI ORDER - Destiny's Way Page 9
