Rebel Stand

by Aaron Allston

  into the avenue below. Luke had a glimpse of the construction droid, thought

  they were going to plow right into it, and then they were level again and

  accelerating along the avenue.

  "So," Face said, his tone conversational. "Is property damage on a massive

  scale normal for Jedi?"

  "That's just if you're friends with them," Kell said. "Wait until you're

  married to one."

  "We need to go back," Luke said. "Nyax isn't dead."

  Face and Kell exchanged a glance. "Are we saving him or killing him?"

  Luke sighed. "Just getting in his way."

  Kell shook his head and gained altitude. As soon as he reached rooftop

  level, he looped around again, back toward the ziggurat.

  Nyax lay in pain at the bottom of the pit.

  He'd never known what pain was before he met those three with the power.

  Now there was nothing but pain.

  He would find them, and he would kill them. He must do so soon because he

  could feel his strength ebbing. No matter how much strength he drew from what

  lay behind the black wall, he could feel himself failing. Soon he would sleep.

  He extended himself, finding the minds of every living thing his power

  could detect. Where a mind was strong and complex enough to hear him, to obey,

  he looked through that creature's eyes.

  In the first few moments, he could see only a blur of superimposed images.

  Then he learned to subtract some, overlap others, remap the image into a

  coherent one in three dimensions.

  The power-wielders who had hurt him were not visible. But two chunks of

  coral he could not feel with his own power, big ones, were approaching him from

  two different directions.

  His enemies had to be aboard them, hidden by whatever power they possessed

  to block his senses. Since they never gave up, they must be coming back after

  him. They had to be aboard because he would not sleep until they were dead.

  He roared out his pain and sent ton after ton of rubble into the sky.

  Kell lost altitude and slid to a landing on a rooftop four kilometers from

  the ziggurat. From here, they could see the two Vong mataloks, cruiser analogs,

  approaching from north and south.

  Two sprays of rubble leapt from the hole in the ziggurat, each going after

  one of the mataloks. Nyax's aim was getting worse; in the first few seconds of

  the attack, neither Vong ship took a hit.

  And both fired, raining plasma projectiles as numerous as raindrops into

  the ziggurat.

  Luke jerked as he felt his flesh burn. He looked at his arm, but no

  blackness appeared there, no seared flesh. It was Nyax, his pain being

  transmitted to all close enough to feel it, and he could see that pain reflected

  in the faces of Mara, Tahiri, Danni, even Kell.

  Then the rubble streams hit the mataloks. They poured across the vessels,

  some small portions of them being swallowed by voids, the majority eating away

  at the yorik coral as though it were sugar. The mataloks sideslipped,

  desperately trying to avoid the streams of destruction, but the rubble blasts

  tracked them, followed them, wore them down.

  A constriction in Luke's chest, one he had been unaware of until now,

  suddenly loosened, vanished. "He's dead."

  "Lord Nyax?" Face frowned back at him. "I don't think so. Look, more rubble

  than ever is flying out of there."

  "Luke is right," Mara said. Her voice had a distant quality as she tried to

  interpret what she felt through the Force. "Nyax is gone. But he's imbued his

  surroundings with some of his hatred. Some of his last intent."

  The mataloks rose above the rubble-stream, launching a new volley of plasma

  before the blasts tracked them, tore into them again. In the distance, more

  Yuuzhan Vong capital ships raced toward the disturbance.

  "It's going to continue," Luke said, "as long as some Part of him is there.

  As long as some part of him can exert his will on his surroundings, and that

  wellspring of the Force allows it to happen. But he's gone." He took a deep

  breath. "Let's go home."

  "Not quite yet," Kell said. "You hear this?" He dialed up the comm board,

  and suddenly everyone could hear a noise-sniffing. No, sniffling. Weeping. "This

  is from an open comlink Face left behind for stragglers. Back where the Ugly

  Truth was. So someone's there."

  "And I bet I know who," Face said.

  Viqi, leaning against the side of the airtaxi for support, finally heard

  the hum when its volume rose higher than the sounds of her own distress. It

  sounded like repulsors, and the noise floated in through the shattered viewport.

  She moved up to it to look.

  The Ugly Truth drifted up into her view, hovering mere meters away.

  Her heart lifted, then as swiftly sank. Through the ship's viewport by its

  access hatch she could see Mara Jade Skywalker staring at her. The woman's

  features were expressionless, but icy hatred of Viqi Shesh showed in her gem-

  green eyes, and that hatred froze Viqi in her place.

  Can I even ask her for mercy? Viqi asked herself. Can I stoop that low?

  The answer was simple.

  Of course I can. And once I am free again, once I escape, I will make her

  suffer for that indignity, Viqi composed herself and began rehearsing the words

  she would say. Pleas for her life.

  "Viqi. I knew you were lying. I knew you would return here."

  Unbelieving, Viqi turned.

  Denua Ku, his front a solid smear of blue-black blood, stood leaning

  against the doorway into the apartment. He coughed, a racking, painful sound,

  and blood dribbled from his mouth. His head hung low.

  But it did not matter. He was still more than a match for her, and he held

  his amphistaff in his hands.

  "I will now kill you, Viqi." He took a faltering step toward her. He was

  already almost within reach with his amphistaff.

  Viqi could hear the sound of the Ugly Truth's side hatch powering up to

  open. She knew it could not open in time. Cold resolve flooded her, knowledge

  that she could inflict hurt in her own inimitable style one last time.

  "No, you won't," she said. "Yuuzhan Vong can't kill me. Noghri can't. Jedi

  can't. You're all beneath me. There's only one thing in the universe that can

  kill Viqi Shesh."

  She turned and stepped out through the shattered viewport.

  Luke and Mara watched her fall. Luke even felt it when she died, a faint

  diminishment in the Force.

  "How about that," Mara said. "I get my wish."

  The Yuuzhan Vong warrior who had confronted Viqi raised a handful of

  razorbugs to hurl at the Ugly Truth, then fell over on his back. His chest

  heaved once. Then he was still.

  Shaken, Luke settled back in his seat and strapped in. "Now we can go."

  Tahiri gave him a look that suggested he had taken leave of his senses.

  "Before, you said 'go home.' I thought this was your home. Coruscant."

  'No." Luke put an arm around her shoulders, his other arm around Mara's. "I

  thought it was, but I was wrong. No matter what color the sun is, no matter what

  the furniture is like, home is where my family is."

  Tahiri nodded, considering that. She settled against him, face against his

  shoulder, and closed her eyes as if
to sleep.

  And for the first time since they'd made landfall on Coruscant, she smiled.

  Face said, "Ready for a run to space, Explosion Boy?"

  "Always ready, Poster Boy. Hold on to your awards." Kell lifted off, turned

  away from the ziggurat, and accelerated to full atmospheric speed.

  SIXTEEN

  Borleias

  Luke's expedition returned to a Borleias that was changed-at least in the

  vicinity of the biotics building and the other areas held by New Republic

  forces,

  On the surface, everything looked worse. Luke and Kell had to pilot the

  Ugly Truth through layered defenses - dovin basal minefields and coralskipper

  patrols-that surely would have led to the destruction of a vehicle controlled by

  lesser pilots. Outlying buildings around the biotics building had been smashed

  by frequent capital ship bombardments. Round-the-chrono coralskipper squadron

  sorties against the ships in orbit had reduced the Lu-sankya to a flying wreck,

  had battered the other cruisers and Star Destroyers. Blackmoon Squadron, one of

  the elite units quartered out of the biotics building complex, nad lost three

  pilots only today, including its commander and second-in-command. The pilots,

  soldiers, and crews ran on caf and stubbornness, some barely able to stay on

  their feet as they came on duty.

  But in his first hours home, Luke was able to peer beneath the surface.

  Kyp Durron welcomed Luke back with an unambiguous smile and handshake; when

  he'd heard the tale of Lord Nyax, he offered no criticism of Luke's handling of

  the matter.

  Han and Leia seemed at ease with one another, no lingering tension

  flavoring words they exchanged. They told Luke that, with the likelihood very

  high of an all-out push by the Yuuzhan Vong in the Pyria system, they were

  postponing their next resistance run in order to give Jaina whatever support

  they could.

  Jaina was different, too, somehow at ease. She did not burn any less

  brightly for the loss of her brothers, she did not fight any less fiercely

  against the Yuuzhan Vong, but she was in balance, no longer leaning toward the

  dark side. She smiled easily and often.

  His family, recently torn apart and flung in all directions, not yet

  reassembled, was healing.

  It was the biotics building's mess hall, but was not being used for that

  purpose now, and would never be used for that purpose again. Its tables were all

  arrayed with chairs only on one side so they could face the head of the room,

  the seats occupied by General Wedge Antilles, Colonel Tycho Celchu, and Luke

  Skywalker. Now those tables were filled with divisional heads, squadron

  commanders, ship captains, spies, Jedi.

  "The Starlancer project," Wedge said, "is a laser-based superweapon roughly

  analogous to a Death Star main gun, with two important differences. The first

  difference is that it distorts space and time to accelerate its destructive

  force through hyperspace, allowing it to be used as a first-strike weapon

  against enemy star systems light-years away." Muttering from those who were not

  in on the Starlancer secret filled the air, but could not compete with distant

  detonations-the Yuuzhan Vong bombardment was now nearly continuous, the New

  Republic forces not numerous or rested enough to beat it back as in weeks past.

  Even now, squadrons of tired pilots were defending the biotics facility from

  that pounding, but could not defend it completely.

  Wedge pointed to an area of empty air and a hologram image filled it. It

  was a trifling bit of sleight of hand, Tycho standing by to activate the

  holoprojector at the right moment, but there was, Wedge thought, a certain

  amount of dash to it. And he could see lella at the back of the room, smiling at

  his display.

  The hologram showed star-filled space. Then four irregular vehicles zoomed

  into view. Three were identical; they looked like Y-wing cockpits merged to the

  join of sixty-degree angles made of wide pipe, with a third pipe splitting the

  angle into two thirty-degree angles. The fourth vehicle was similar, but had

  three pipes radiating from a central hub at the cockpit's stern. A fourth pipe

  emerged from the hub at a ninety-degree angle to the plane they suggested.

  In the image, the three identical vehicles separated to form the points of

  an imaginary triangle. The fourth took up position at the center of the

  formation.

  "This is not to scale," Wedge continued. "It's an ani-niation. These

  vehicles separate to distances of several light-seconds. Then they go through

  their activation sequence." In the display, light flared from the outer two

  Pipes on each of the identical vehicles. The light beams streaked from one

  vehicle to the next, joining them together as a triangle of light. Then, from

  each of the three vehicles, the central pipe fired, its light hitting the

  central vehicle. Finally, the fourth pipe of the central vehicle fired. Its

  laser beam, brighter than all the others, leapt forth into space... and

  disappeared.

  "The Starlancer weapon uses a giant lambent crystal, a Yuuzhan Vong-

  engineered living crystal, to focus this power and perform the hyperacceleration

  1 spoke of. And now it's ready for its final use.

  "Oh, the second point of difference between this weapon and the Death Star

  main gun is this: the Starlancer beam doesn't work. It's a fake."

  The murmurs rose. Wedge saw Luke grin.

  Wedge raised his voice to carry over the babble, to quiet it. "The purpose

  of the Starlancer project is to dictate exactly when the Yuuzhan Vong in this

  system begin their all-out push against us. They 'know' that the weapon

  threatens them; they have the example of Anakin Solo's lambent-based lightsaber

  to compare it to, and to be offended by. They 'know' that we've appropriated

  their technology, and this galls them. They 'know' that once it's ready to fly,

  we can destroy their worldship in orbit around Coruscant; we faked up a low-

  power demonstration of this by positioning one of our capital ships outside the

  Coruscant system and firing off a laser battery attack at that worldship to

  coincide with the firing of our fake weapon array. So they 'know' that as soon

  as we float the fully operational version, they have to hit us with everything

  they've got.

  "And this, ultimately, will distract them enough to allow us to initiate a

  complete evacuation of this facility... and to take this final battle in this

  system to them in ways they haven't anticipated."

  There were many words and expressions of relief after that statement. Wedge

  saw his officers exchanging glances. "That's right. This defense is, ultimately,

  not a suicide mission, despite anything you may have heard." That was something

  of a deception. The New Republic Advisory Council and self-appointed Chief of

  State Pwoe had demanded that it be precisely that, a suicide mission. But Wedge

  had chosen to interpret his orders a trifle differently. "The wounded and

  nonessential personnel have, over the last few days, been transported-very

  uncomfortably, I'm afraid, in the guise of cargo and other such deceptions-to

  our freighters and cargo vessels upstairs. Tycho?"
r />   Tycho rose and hit a button on the datapad in his hand. "Your revised

  orders have just been transmitted to you. You have an hour before things get

  under way. I suggest that if you have anything remaining here dirtside that you

  want to keep, you'd better gather it up now."

  "If you have any questions," Wedge said, "address them to your controllers.

  We have no time remaining here. Dismissed."

  The officers rose and crowded to the exits. For a few moments, until almost

  all had departed, their voices almost did drown out the sound of distant

  conflict.

  "How's your new squadron?" Wedge asked Luke.

  "Not bad. My predecessor was a champion of discipline over talent, but the

  pilots I inherited are pretty determined. We'll get along fine."

  Wedge called to an officer just reaching the door out. Eldo. A moment?"

  The bulky captain of Lusankya returned, pushing hiii way through the

  scattered chairs. His face was much harder to read than it had been weeks ago,

  when he'd arrived insystem, but that suited Wedge; then, the only things to read

  had been confusion and distress. "General?"

  "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for knocking your command out from under

  you. I'll make sure it doesn't reflect badly on your record."

  The commander gave him a wan smile. "Badly? General, I'm ahout to pilot the

  largest, most terrifying single-pilot starfighter the universe has ever seen.

  Live or die, I'm going to go down in history."

  "That's a good way to look at it." Wedge extended his hand. "Good luck."

  Luke settled into his X-wing cockpit with a noise of satisfaction. In the

  weeks since he'd left, Wedge had been using the snubfighter as a personal

  transport, and had had the vehicle maintained with the sort of monomania-cal

  thoroughness that another fighter pilot could appreciate. "How're you doing,

  Artoo?"

  His astromech beeped at him, similarly cheery, happy to be back in action

  once more.

  "Blackmoon Leader to squad," Luke said. "Black-moon Leader is ready. Report

  readiness by number."

  "Blackmoon Two, ready." That was Mara, in the E-wing that had belonged to