Star by Star

by Troy Denning

  “How long to repair that?” Wedge asked.

  “Less than a day standard, but it will need to recharge its power pack and replace its laminanium ingot.” Lando signaled to 1-1A, who drew an appreciative murmur from the generals by riding the repulsorlifts concealed in his feet onto the deck of the hoversled. “If we can proceed to the firing range, One-One-A will demonstrate his destructive capability.”

  Fey’lya nodded to the pilot droid, and they started across the mock city toward a distant blast tunnel.

  “The YVH’s primary weapon is the variable-output blaster cannon in his right arm,” Lando said. “But his left arm can be fitted with a wide variety of weapons, including a fifty-missile seeker battery, sonic rifles, heavy lasers …”

  As Lando ticked off the options, Fey’lya motioned for him to continue for the generals, then joined Leia and Han in the back.

  “Impressive.” He addressed himself to both Leia and Han, as though he were only making casual conversation. “I can see an army of these droids defending the New Republic. What would it take? A million?”

  “Three million would be better,” Han answered, immediately slipping into bargaining mode on his friend’s behalf. “There are a lot of Yuuzhan Vong, and these things are bound to make them mad. That’s worth something.”

  “Three million?” Fey’lya considered the number, then looked to Leia. “That’s a lot of laminanium. It would require a great deal of support to push through.”

  Leia had a hollow feeling in her stomach. She had known this moment was coming since watching the hologram of Fey’lya dressing Nom Anor down in front of the full senate, and—for a change—she was almost eager to give the Bothan what he wanted. After the destruction of the Speed Queen in the battle at Froz, the Jedi were taking more of a battering in the senate than ever. The chief of state’s support would do much to alleviate that, but her feeling as she left the NRMOC situation room that day had been unmistakable. The Force was guiding her away from politics, and she had no doubt that the Bothan hoped to bring her back into the senate as his ally—a move that would both add to his support and give the Jedi an audible voice.

  It was a sacrifice she could no longer make. The feeling had been too clear. “I’m sure you’ll find all the support you need, if you truly believe it’s the right thing.”

  The fur around Fey’lya’s collar ruffled uncertainly. “What do my beliefs matter? We’re talking about the senate.”

  “The senate you made,” Leia said. “You and those like you. I’m no part of that.”

  Fey’lya’s ears flattened, and Leia heard her husband mutter something under his breath. They had talked this over before coming. Han was sympathetic to her determination to have no more to do with the senate, but, in typical Han Solo fashion, he thought she simply ought to fake it. To his way of thinking, all she had to do was smile a few times and make a couple of public appearances with Fey’lya. Then the Jedi would be off the hook, Lando would have enough credits to buy an entire sector, and the New Republic would have the finest droid army in a dozen galaxies. Han just could not understand that to play Fey’lya’s game would be to countenance the Bothan’s way of doing things, to become a part of the rot that had made the New Republic such a soft target for the Yuuzhan Vong in the first place.

  After a long pause, Fey’lya cast a meaningful glance at the lightsaber hanging from Leia’s belt. “Come now, Princess. You know how this works. I cannot support the Jedi unless the Jedi support me.”

  “Do the right thing, and you will have their support,” Leia said. Lando and the generals had given up all pretense of discussing the YVH’s merits and were now openly eavesdropping.

  “I am no longer in the business of making behind-the-scenes deals.”

  “What a pity, when there is such a need for them to hold the New Republic together.”

  Lando’s eyes widened at Fey’lya’s acid tone, and he shot Han a look of appeal.

  Han could only shrug. “Sorry, pal. I promised she’d come, not what she’d say.”

  The hoversled slowed and began to descend toward the blast tunnel, where several Tendrando technicians were unloading two huge crates of YVH munitions.

  Lando rallied with one of his slickest smiles. “No problem, Han. This baby sells itself.” He jerked a thumb toward a squad of big human bodyguards rushing to secure the hoversled’s landing pad. “When the chief of state sees what One-One-A’s depleted baradium pellets do to yorik coral, he’ll want a dozen to replace those jokers.”

  From behind them came 1-1A’s ultramasculine voice. “Remain calm. Seek shelter immediately.” The hoversled shuddered beneath the war droid’s heavy steps. “This is a military emergency. Seek shelter immediately.”

  It was the same warning the droid had given in the search-and-identify demonstration, just before disabling three Yuuzhandroid “infiltrators” as they tried to slip through a crowd of Tendrando “pedestrians.” Leia cocked a querying brow at Lando. He shook his head, then moved to intercept the war droid.

  “One-One-A, the demonstration is over,” he said.

  “Affirmative, demonstration completed,” the droid replied. “Please seek shelter. There are Yuuzhan Vong ahead.”

  YVH 1-1A brushed Lando aside and jerked the pilot droid away from the control column, then jacked into the socket himself. The sled was so close to the landing area that Leia had to step to the safety rail to look down on the bodyguards. They were arraying themselves on all sides of the pad, facing outward as was proper. Once the sled descended, it would take only an instant to spin around and catch the group in a deadly cross fire.

  The war droid turned the hoversled away from the landing area.

  “Calrissian!” General Bel Iblis barked. “Enough is enough.”

  Leia reached out with the Force, felt nothing from the guards. “No, Garm,” she said. “They’re impostors.”

  YVH 1-1A laid his arm on the rail and loosed a flurry of blaster bolts. A pair of Yuuzhan Vong detached the sleeves of their blast armor and turned their shoulders toward the hoversled, and something black and winged shot out of the first warrior’s sleeve. YVH 1-1A continued to bank away.

  The thing—whatever it was—smashed into the hoversled and nearly flipped it. Four black pincers came through the durasteel floor, ripping a hole, and a beetlelike insect about the size of Leia’s arm started to come through. Han, Bel Iblis, and Wedge vaporized it with blasterfire.

  Another jolt. The hoversled turned on edge and angled down into the simulated city.

  “Impact imminent,” 1-1A warned. “Brace—”

  Even cushioned by repulsorlift engines, the crash was a mad and confusing thing. Leia ricocheted off durasteel and dropped face-first onto ferrocrete, bodies thudding all around. The hoversled fell against a wall above her, remained there leaning. Han called out. She reached for him through the Force and felt more worry than pain.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Everyone?”

  Fey’lya answered first. “Thankfully, I am unhurt.”

  “Sound and strong,” Bel Iblis reported.

  “Same here,” Wedge said.

  Only Lando did not answer. Leia picked herself up and found him crouched behind the overturned sled, watching 1-1A spray blaster bolts down a one-block street. The whumpf-whumpf of the droid’s blaster cannon sounded somehow all too gentle.

  “Lando?” Leia pulled the lightsaber from her belt. The handle felt familiar enough, but the weapon still seemed a thing in her hand, not at all the extension of herself she knew it should have been. “Tell One-One-A to let loose with the heavy stuff.”

  “Can’t. There’s a power governor on his weapons systems.” Lando sounded almost sick. “With two generals and the chief of state here, we didn’t want to chance a programming glitch.”

  “Power governor?” This from both Han and Fey’lya.

  “You think I’m not disappointed?” Lando retorted. “An opportunity like this?”

  Thud bugs began to ping the bottom of
the hoversled.

  “What was he supposed to do in the blast tunnel?” Han asked. “Put on a lightshow?”

  “It only takes a second to change a programming card,” Lando said. “It’s with the munitions.”

  Leia peered around the platform edge. YVH 1-1A stood in a storm of thud bugs pouring blasterfire at the assassins and accomplishing nothing against their stolen blast armor. Finally, he gave an electronic bellow and stomped down the street.

  A pair of Yuuzhan Vong pressed themselves into a doorway and opened their breastplates, each drawing a long eel-like creature from beneath his armor and throwing it at 1-1A. The things turned rigid and streaked at the droid, their heads pulsing with white energy, their tails shooting threads of flame.

  YVH 1-1A fired twice on the run. The eels exploded. He fired twice more, and both attackers dropped.

  Then the droid was crashing into the others. Two more fell to his flailing arms, but the rest slipped past, and Han, Lando, and the generals took out another pair with blaster pistols. Wedge stopped firing long enough to shove Han and Leia toward Fey’lya.

  “Take him. We’ll hold here.”

  Han started to object, but Fey’lya was already fleeing, shouting into his comlink for someone to answer. Judging by the panic in his voice, no one was.

  Leia grabbed Han and started after the Bothan. Like it or not, Fey’lya was chief of state. Behind them, another assassin fell, then Wedge took a thud bug in the shoulder and tumbled into the others, and the last trio of Yuuzhan Vong charged under the hoversled and raced past, 1-1A stomping into view behind them, still scorching their armor with ineffective blasterfire. The droid’s laminanium armor was pitted to the underskeleton and his circuits were showing, but he kept coming, kept firing even with his allies in front of him. Precision targeting.

  Seeing the advantage of the situation, Leia ignited her lightsaber. “Time to make a stand.”

  “Too dangerous!” The near-panic in Han’s voice surprised Leia. “You go.”

  He shoved her after Fey’lya, nearly losing a hand as he reached past her lightsaber, then dropped the nearest Yuuzhan Vong with an impressive under-the-arm shot. Bad timing. A blaster bolt—one of 1-1A’s nonlethal green bolts—caught him in the chest and hurled him into Leia. He dropped, not dead she could tell, but out, really, really out. She caught her balance and stumbled around to meet the last two Yuuzhan Vong, one slashing at her head, the other slipping past after Fey’lya.

  Leia dropped to a crouch and tumbled backward, using the Force to carry her along. A flying somersault would have been better, but she was no dueling master. She rolled to her feet and spun, catching Borsk’s would-be assassin across the back. Her ruby blade cleaved him nearly in two, and the smell was sickening.

  Leia continued her spin and found the last Yuuzhan Vong where she expected, whipping his amphistaff at her legs, also as expected. She blocked low. He dropped his weapon and reached for his utility pouch.

  Something struck at Leia’s knee. She caught it on her blade, saw the amphistaff had reverted to snake form, and flung the thing away. The Yuuzhan Vong’s hand was in his utility pouch. Leia summoned the Force and kicked with everything she had. The blow caught the assassin square and sent him stumbling back all of two steps.

  The warrior sneered and withdrew his hand from the utility pouch. Vowing for the thousandth time to spend more time practicing her Jedi skills, Leia hurled her lightsaber at his arm. Still sneering, he pivoted to let it pass … and suddenly found himself folded into 1-1A’s laminanium arms.

  The droid crushed the stolen blast armor like an eggshell, squeezing black gore out onto the ground. “Blasters ineffectual,” he said, stunned and confused. “Alternate tactics required.”

  THIRTEEN

  With the milky splendor of the galactic core pouring down through its transparisteel ceiling, the crater room on Eclipse was one of the few that still had light. An attempt to feed more power to the central cooling system had blown a primary switching bank, shutting down all nonvital systems and compelling the Jedi to hold their assembly in one of the Eclipse Program’s labs. Several empty villip tanks—even Cilghal could not make the things grow—had been moved aside to create a gathering area. Han and Lando stood a little off to the side with Leia’s Noghri bodyguards. After the close call on Coruscant, the Noghri had emerged from their bacta tanks a day early and now refused to let Leia out of their sight.

  Leia was near the front with Mara, Cilghal, and the older Jedi, while Jacen and Jaina stood with Tenel Ka, Lowie, Raynar, Zekk, and the more thoughtful of the younger Jedi Knights. Anakin, with his pretty friend Tahiri at his side, was surrounded by his growing gaggle of companions, now including the three Barabel hatchmates, Ulaha Kore, a red-haired human woman named Eryl Besa, and the Twi’lek dancer, Alema Rar.

  Han was only slightly less pleased than Tahiri to see how closely Alema pressed into his son’s space. Though the Twi’lek was about the same age as Anakin, he could tell by how she used her eyes and touch that she was much older in at least one sense—and now was not a particularly good time for Anakin to learn those lessons. Though Luke had called the gathering to report a breakthrough in Cilghal’s research, they had just received word that Anakin’s friend Lyric had fallen to the voxyn. Almost as alarming, Corran Horn had been seen with his wife, Mirax, fleeing a pack of the creatures while resupplying on Corellia. No one had been able to contact them since.

  Cilghal was the first to break the silence. “I asked Master Skywalker to call this meeting because I wanted to give you some hopeful news. Instead, I must again apologize for my tardiness in solving the problem.” The Mon Calamari turned her bulbous eyes toward the floor. “Forgive me.”

  “Don’t think like that.” Though Anakin’s eyes were wet with barely restrained tears, his tone was warm. “No one could do better. Without you, we wouldn’t even know these things were part vornskr.”

  Anakin’s words made Han proud. He knew from his own experience how difficult it was not to lash out after the loss of someone close, and his son’s reassurances would help ease Cilghal’s overactive conscience.

  “That’s right,” Ganner Rhysode agreed. The big man’s scarred cheek lent a dangerous air to an otherwise rakishly handsome face. “Everyone knows how hard you’ve been working—just by how hard we’ve been working.”

  This drew a chorus of agreement, for Cilghal was keeping many of the Jedi busy trying to identify the location of the original voxyn—the queen, as they now called her. Ganner had retraced the Sweet Surprise’s route to and from Nova Station, Streen had searched the log for suspicious gaps, and Cheklev was still keeping a dozen scientists busy analyzing pieces of the destroyed ship. Meanwhile, Anakin and his group rushed from planet to planet retrieving voxyn corpses for Cilghal, who plotted dispersal patterns and correlated data. The result of all that effort had been to confirm that all voxyn were indeed clones of a single creature, but also—and more importantly—to establish that their cells deteriorated at an accelerated rate. Cilghal estimated that the creatures could survive no more than a few months after release, and Han knew she had been searching for a way to use the Force to make them age even more rapidly. With any luck, she had called today’s meeting to announce her success.

  Luke allowed everyone a chance to express their support, then raised a hand to quiet the gathering. “We have no complaints about Cilghal’s progress, but there is reason for concern. If Corran and Mirax are missing, Booster Terrik may take it on himself to go into the war zone after them.”

  “Not with Tionne and Kam aboard,” Han said. He and Leia had finally caught up to Booster between trips to Coruscant. “They know where to find us. They won’t let him try anything stupid without swinging by here to drop the students off.”

  “You’re sure?” Luke asked. “That ship is carrying the next generation of Jedi Knights.”

  “Two of whom are his own grandchildren,” Leia said. “Booster won’t risk Valin and Jysella, even for Mirax.”


  Luke considered this, then nodded. “Good. I’ve been friends with Corran long enough to know he can take care of himself, but we’ll all breathe easier if we don’t have to worry about the academy students.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Let’s turn our attention to preventing the voxyn from taking any more of us. Cilghal has some interesting news.”

  Luke stepped over to Mara and smiled at the infant sleeping in her arms. The sight filled Han with a sense of calm, and he wondered if that was what it felt like to touch the Force. For a moment, the galaxy did not seem to be coming apart after all; the glue that held it together remained, and Yuuzhan Vong or not, it would still be there tomorrow.

  Cilghal blinked twice and choked on her emotion, then found her voice. “My friends, I discovered something very interesting in that last voxyn retrieved by Ulaha and Eryl.” She tipped her head toward the pair, both standing with the flock of young females that always seemed to gather around Anakin these days. “In its stomach was a full-grown ysalamiri, and in the ysalamiri’s stomach were several olbio leaves.”

  “So these things eat ysalamiri?” Raynar asked. During Han’s visits to Yavin 4, he had noticed that questions seemed to boil out of the boy the way words bubbled out of young Tahiri—two more things that had survived the invasion of the Yuuzhan Vong. “Is that what you’re telling us?”

  “No, Cilghal is telling us where to find the queen,” Jacen said. “You ran a metals study on the leaves?”

  Cilghal smiled. “A perfect match. The leaves came from Myrkr.”

  Lando let out a low whistle, and Han drew a disapproving glance from Leia by expressing his emotions in a less eloquent fashion. Myrkr was famous among smugglers for the high metal content of its trees, a trait that rendered orbital sensor readings unreliable and made the place perfect for secret bases. It was also the world of origination for both vornskrs and ysalamiri—the former being nasty four-legged predators that hunted the Force in their prey, the latter being docile reptiles that pushed the Force away from them in small areas. Under the best of conditions, it was hardly an ideal place to go voxyn hunting, and the task was bound to be complicated by the fact that it lay about four hundred light-years behind Yuuzhan Vong lines.