Dark Tide 2: Ruin

by Michael A. Stackpole

  Snubfighter pilots had noticed that projecting voids cut into a skip’s ability to maneuver. The two admirals wondered if the reverse would also not be true, especially in the case of the Yuuzhan Vong capital ships. Toward this end Kre’fey had summoned the Corusca Rainbow from the fleet arrayed to defend Agamar and had it jump in where one of Ithor’s smaller moons hid it from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. As the Yuuzhan Vong started to move out, the Interdictor cruiser jumped into close orbit around Ithor and brought all four of its gravity-well projectors on-line. That effectively doubled the mass of Ithor, steepening its gravity well and slowly beginning to suck the Legacy of Torment back toward the dying world.

  The Yuuzhan Vong at the helm of the Legacy immediately moved to counteract this effect. They brought more dovin basals under helm control, reaching out to latch on to moons and the sun. They slowed the slide, then stopped it. They slowly began the climb back out onto the exit vector, and by the time Deign Lian reached the bridge, his ship was again on the move.

  Unfortunately for Deign Lian, the Legacy’s crew, and even the living ship itself, the Corusca Rainbow had done more than jump in and power up its gravity-well generators. Its gunnery officers computed firing solutions for the Yuuzhan Vong grand cruiser. Their telemetry was fed to the main defender fleet. Every snubfighter boiling out of the ships, every cruiser, every Star Destroyer, used that data feed to provide targeting information for their proton torpedoes and concussion missiles.

  Barrage after barrage arced over the curve of Ithor’s expanding atmosphere. They slammed into the voidless Legacy, shattering yorik coral plates. The energy released by their detonations incinerated neural tissue and boiled dovin basals. The first wave completely disintegrated the aft hull, opening the ship to the void of space. Yet, before air and crew could be sucked out, another wave hit, vaporizing more of the ship and igniting the vessel’s atmosphere. Fire flashed into the Legacy.

  Deign Lian knew a moment of agony as a fireball expanded into the bridge. He would have screamed, but the air was burned from his lungs before he could make a sound. For the half second of clarity his mind possessed, he could hear Shedao Shai counseling him to embrace the pain, to make it part of himself so he could know union with the gods. His last thought was to surrender to the pain, to allow it to consume him, denying himself the ultimate goal because he could not bring himself to admit that Shedao Shai had shown him the one true way to reach it.

  The assault cracked the skeletal structure that held the Legacy together. It broke into three parts, the most forward of which surged up away from the planet for a moment. The burning aft descended toward Ithor, picking up speed. The central piece hung in space for several seconds, then began its slow, tumbling fall to the planet. The prow, with its dying dovin basals quitting one by one, likewise succumbed to Ithor’s embrace.

  It really did not matter that the Legacy was burning when it hit the planet’s atmosphere. The friction from entry alone would have produced enough heat for the hull to ignite the oxygen-rich atmosphere. Fire flared out, quickly wreathing the planet. The superheated atmosphere expanded, flicking out little tendrils that bounced snubfighters around and buffeted the New Republic’s fleet. One flare did reach out and caress a small Yuuzhan Vong corvette, causing the ship to explode, but the rest of the ships had pulled far enough away to escape.

  The Yuuzhan Vong fleet—what was left it—sped along its outbound vector and disappeared.

  Ithor, once a peaceful planet, blazed in their wake. With it burned the hopes of the New Republic.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Admiral Gilad Pellaeon paused at the landing ramp on his shuttle, turned, and shook Admiral Kre’fey’s hand. As he did so, he felt a sense of profound loss. “You do know, Admiral, that I wish things could have turned out differently. I found working with you fascinating, even enlightening. Imperial Space will benefit from what I learned here.”

  The Bothan nodded. “I know that, Admiral, and share your feelings. I also know, despite what others might whisper, that you harbor no antialien bias. I have never felt anything but respect from you, and have nothing but respect and admiration for you.”

  “Thank you, Traest.” The Imperial officer broke his grip and clasped his hands at the small of his back. “Had we managed to defend Ithor, to save it, I am certain my people would not be recalling me. They are scared, of course. That weapon would have been tough to stop no matter what. I’m not sure having fleets orbiting worlds could prevent the Yuuzhan Vong from doing that to any world they choose. But if I don’t have the fleet at home, the civil population will panic, and we are as good as lost if that happens. We have, in microcosm, the problem you have in the New Republic.”

  “I only wish it were as simple a problem as that suggests.” Kre’fey looked around the aft landing bay on the Ralroost and the knots of Ithorian refugees huddled here and there. “You don’t have the best hope for the New Republic being blamed for the loss of Ithor. You don’t have every little administrative sector deciding it has to defend itself. Ithor’s destruction has sent terror storming through the government. Some people want to appease the Yuuzhan Vong, others want to fight them, and I have no doubt, some would willingly ally with them if they were given the chance to destroy old enemies.”

  Pellaeon nodded. “In some ways, victory over the Empire was the worst thing that could have happened to the New Republic. Your hatred of us united you. Now forces seek to divide you for their own gain. You are fortunate, though, because your role in all this has been nothing but praised.”

  The Bothan sighed. “My cousin is being lauded for his brave action in the first encounter. He comes out looking like a hero. He finds it expedient to elevate me to his side, making him yet greater, which is what the people want.”

  “It’s what they need: heroes to believe in.”

  “I know, Gilad, and I would not deny them heroes, but I would rather they believed in you or the Jedi, instead of someone who made the best of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Traest scratched his head. “I feel sorriest for Corran Horn.”

  Pellaeon nodded slowly. “Yes, the man who lost Ithor.”

  “Oh, then you’ve only seen the early news holos. As the week has dragged on he’s become the man who killed Ithor.”

  “Someone had to take the blame.” The Imperial admiral smiled. “You know, for the half hour between his victory and the planet’s death, I was proud of what he did, the stand he took. He’d won the day and managed to save countless lives. Now it is all for nothing.”

  “Worse than nothing. The Jedi are being held up to ridicule; the military will have senatorial oversight.” Traest smiled. “Any chance Imperial Space is recruiting?”

  Pellaeon laughed aloud. “And I was thinking I would ask you to save me a spot in that empire you’ll carve out of the Unknown Regions.”

  “It would be my pleasure, sir.” The Bothan flashed teeth in a friendly smile. “I will keep you informed of how we are faring.”

  “I’d appreciate that, and will reciprocate.” Pellaeon nodded, then looked at the other two men walking up to him. “General Antilles, Colonel Fel, what have you decided?”

  Jagged Fel clasped his hands at the small of his back. “I’ll be sending one of my squadrons back with you, sir. They will carry a report back to my father. I’ll remain here with two squadrons, liaising with Rogue Squadron. I hope, sir, you understand my desire to stay here.”

  “Understand, yes. Respect and envy, even.” Pellaeon offered the younger man his hand. They shook, then Pellaeon shook Wedge Antilles’s hand. “This is not the last you shall see of me, my friends. Right now, my people are afraid of helping you. There will come a time when they are more afraid of not helping you. I will return then. I just hope it won’t be too late.”

  “That is our hope, as well.” Traest Kre’fey again shook Admiral Pellaeon’s hand. “May your course plots be easy and your orbits safe.”

  “The same to you.” Pellaeon nodded and started up the r
amp. He looked back once, just to make sure he would remember them because he was not certain at all that he would ever see them again. Then the landing ramp retracted, and his shuttle carried him home.

  Jaina still felt numb, sitting there in the Ralroost’s meditation cabin. Anni’s death left a hole in her life, which both surprised and horrified Jaina. The surprise came from her having known the woman for only such a short time. Yes, we flew together and bunked together, but . . . Anni had liked to gamble, and no one in their right mind would gamble with a Jedi so Jaina had found other things to do in her off time. When they were together, they did get along wonderfully, and she knew Anni liked her, and she’d liked Anni.

  That they had become closer than Jaina had thought during her stint with Rogue Squadron shocked her. That she had not known more about Anni came as an even bigger surprise. Colonel Darklighter had said he was recording a message to go to Anni’s family and asked if Jaina would like to send one at the same time. It was then that she realized she didn’t know Anni had a family. Anni had never talked about her life outside the squadron, and Jaina had been a bit closemouthed about her own family life, assuming that Anni already knew as much about it as she would care to.

  She glanced at the data card in her hand. She’d sent off a message to Anni’s family and had quickly gotten a reply. The holovid transmission captured on the data card had shown an older woman, clearly Anni’s mother, eyes red from crying, doing her best not to break down. She told Jaina that Anni had enjoyed having her as a friend and wing mate, that Anni always talked about her in every message she’d sent home. Anni’s mother added that she had some things of her daughter’s that she wanted Jaina to have, and that she would like to meet her if Jaina ever made it to Corellia.

  I didn’t know. I should have known. I . . . Jaina covered her eyes with her left hand. Tears leaked out between her fingers. A sense of guilt compounded the loss. Intellectually she knew that there was nothing she could have done to save Anni, but that didn’t stop her from feeling that she should have found a way to keep her friend alive. Now I know how Anakin feels about Chewie.

  She sniffed and straightened up, swiping at tears as the cabin door opened. She glanced at the silhouette and managed a weak smile. “Did Mom send you?”

  Anakin shrugged and sat down on the floor. “I kind of nudged her into it. She knew you wanted to be alone. She didn’t want you to be alone, but she didn’t want you to think she thought you were too much of a kid to get through it. I hinted and she suggested.”

  “You must have somewhere else you’d rather be.”

  He shook his head. “No, I wanted to talk to you. Figured this would be the best place. It’s the only place I’m not underfoot.”

  Jaina frowned. “Plenty of Jedi here.”

  “Sure, but they’re all wounded or caught up in what’s going on with Corran. A bunch of them, like Wurth, wonder how it is I manage to kill Yuuzhan Vong warriors without much more than a scratch and they get hurt.” He sighed. “I make them doubt themselves, and they’re not very good at controlling that idea.”

  “I can understand that, I guess. Not that they should take it out on you.” She smiled at her little brother. “Why did you want to be here?”

  “You lost a friend. I did, too.”

  “And misery wanted company?”

  He shook his head resolutely. “Nope. I thought, well, look, when Daeshara’cor died, she said some stuff that made me think. I thought, maybe, well . . .”

  Jaina softened her voice. “What is it, Anakin?”

  “Well, she let me know, let me see that for her, it wasn’t so . . . I mean, it was bad that she died, but . . . she wasn’t mad at me . . .” His voice broke, and he smeared tears across his face with a hand. “Your friend Anni had to know you were safe. She didn’t die hating you.”

  “Anakin, thank you.” Jaina sniffed. “I want to hope you’re right. I just . . . I need to have my heart and my head and everything sort things out.”

  “Yeah, that seems like the hard part.” He nodded slowly. “I’m flying that same course myself. If you want a wing . . . sorry.”

  “No, Anakin, that’s okay.” She reached out and tousled his hair. “I’m glad you’re willing to fly on my wing. We can do this together, little brother. I think that would work out just fine.”

  Corran let the door to his tiny cabin slide shut behind him, then leaned back against it. A little cough shook him, reigniting the pain in his abdomen. He’d already undergone two of the three bacta treatments the Emdee droids had prescribed for his wounds, and had ample evidence that the bacta had succeeded in helping his nerves to regenerate.

  He rested with his back against the door, less because of true fatigue than a reluctance to do what he had come to do. Threading his way through the Ralroost’s passageways had been draining. Dodging groups of Ithorians in the narrow corridors made the journey hard, but it was not their physical presence alone that wore him down.

  Through the Force he could feel their anguish. After his wounding he’d slipped into a Jedi trance and had been transferred immediately to a bacta tank. He had been floating there, barely conscious, when the Yuuzhan Vong attacked Ithor. He could feel life on the planet being extinguished, as if something were blotting out all the stars in the sky one by one.

  He’d been out of the bacta when the atmosphere ignited. The stunned shock of the Ralroost’s crew had hit him first, then the flood of grief from the distant city-ships slammed hard into him. The Mother Jungle, the living entity that had created the Ithorians, that had nurtured and sustained them, the entity they loved and dedicated their lives to preserving, had been destroyed. From their ships they saw the atmosphere burn like a solar corona around the planet, leaving in its wake a charred, sterile cinder.

  That wave of horror and grief retreated, leaving every Ithorian feeling as hollow inside as Corran had when . . . He glanced at the Yuuzhan Vong shell lying on the bunk in the small cabin. He took one step toward it, then sank to his knees. He touched a finger to the latch-creature, ignoring the sting of the needle as it drew his blood.

  The shell slowly opened. Bioluminescent tissue shed a pale green light that glowed softly from Elegos’ bones. It danced a bit in the gems that replaced his eyes, but in no way conveyed any of the life Corran had seen in what they imitated. Elegos’ skeleton peered down at him, and Corran fervently wished he could catch at least the hint of a smile there.

  The Jedi sank back on his heels and looked up into the jeweled eyes of what had once been his friend. From inside his robe he drew the mask Shedao Shai had worn. He rubbed a sleeve over its black surface, erasing a smudge, then reverently set it in Elegos’ lap.

  “Your murderer is dead.”

  Corran wanted to say more, but his throat closed and the glowing image before him blurred. He covered his eyes with a hand, smearing tears against his cheeks, then swallowed hard. He wiped away more tears, then took a deep breath and set his shoulders.

  “His death was supposed to save Ithor. It didn’t. I know you’d be horrified to think I killed him for you. I didn’t. I did it for Ithor.”

  The gold skeleton stared down at him, cold mercilessness glinting from the gems in its eye-sockets.

  Never any fooling you, was there, my friend? Corran screwed his eyes shut against more tears, then opened them again. He looked away, unable to stand Elegos’ dead gaze.

  “That’s what I told myself. It was for Ithor. That’s what I told everyone. Managed to fool some of them—most of them, I think. Not Master Skywalker. I think he knew the truth, but the chance to save Ithor had to be taken.”

  He glanced down at his right hand and could again feel the weight of his lightsaber in it. “I had myself convinced, I really did, until . . . There was a point in the fight. I’d turned my lightsaber off; Shedao Shai had overbalanced himself. His staff was buried in the turf. I shoved my lightsaber’s hilt against his stomach.”

  A shudder quaked through Corran. “There was a moment there. A nan
osecond. I hesitated. Not because I thought of life as sacred and that taking any life was horrible—the way you would have, my friend. No . . . No, I hesitated because I wanted Shedao Shai to know he was dead. I wanted him to know I knew he was dead. If he was going to see his life flash before his eyes, I wanted him to take a good look at it. I wanted him to have a nice long look at it. I wanted him to know it was all for nothing.”

  Corran’s right hand curled into a fist. He hammered it against his thigh to loosen it, then flexed his fingers as wide open and straight as he could.

  “In that one moment, Elegos, I dishonored your sacrifice. I betrayed you. I betrayed the Jedi. I betrayed myself.” Corran sighed. “In that one moment I crossed the line. I walked on the dark side.”

  He raised his head and met Elegos’ bejeweled stare. “You Caamasi had a saying: If the wind no longer calls to you, it is time to see if you have forgotten your name. The problem I have, my friend, is that I heard the dark side calling to me. Without your help, without your guidance, I’m not sure how I can deal with that.”

  Jacen Solo studied Corran Horn as the elder Jedi sat gathered into a tight ball in a chair. Bacta had healed the physical wound the Corellian had suffered, but a certain amount of psychic agony still poured from him. As far as Jacen could see, Corran had done everything right, hadn’t been out of control or acting like a rogue Jedi, and yet that was how he was being portrayed in the news reports about Ithor.

  Ganner paced impatiently. “I just can’t believe it. Corran puts his own life on the line, nearly dies to save Ithor, and has been transformed into ‘yet another world-killing Jedi.’ Vader to Kyp to Corran. I’m surprised they didn’t build a link to Caamas in there.”

  Luke pressed his hands together. “People are giving in to their fear. They’re not thinking clearly at all. We need calm.”

  “Calm isn’t all we need, Master. You will need something more.” Corran blinked slowly and looked up. “You have to disassociate the Jedi from me.”