Star Wars: New Jedi Order Book 8b: Emissary of the Void

by Greg Keyes

  “So I have,” Uldir said. “Here’s what I have in mind. Vook? Are you listening? You’re important to this.”

  Vook watched the Yuuzhan Vong vessel edging nearer. He keyed on the comlink. “I warned you!” He snapped. “Come no closer.”

  “The holy and terrible Yun Yuuzhan and all the gods know you will never be in a position to command me,” Vintul Qat informed him.

  Something hit the No Luck Required, then, hard. Vook cursed in Duro.

  “Perhaps without your sensor grid you did not notice our escort,” The Yuuzhan Vong commander said.

  Vook allowed himself a thin smile. “Perhaps in your arrogance you did not notice that my ship is fully functional.”

  He flipped on the shields, launched a spread of concussion mis­siles, and kicked in the ion drive. “Uvee,” he told the astromech droid, where it was patched into turbolaser, “Destroy those coralskippers. I will handle the transport.”

  Affirmative, the droid’s reply scrolled across the translator.

  “This is foolish,” Vintul Cat warned. “What can you hope to accom­plish?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Vook said, under his breath. But over the comlink he shouted, “For Duro! Death to the Yuuzhan Vong!”

  “It’s started,” Uldir said, pointing to the sudden flashes of light across the interstellar night. “Klin‑Fa‑if you please, before they start maneuvering. We don’t want to be standing next to the dovin basal when they turn it on.”

  “Got it.” The Jedi’s yellow blade strobed into existence and she began quickly hacking at the yorik coral hull they had tethered them­selves to. Leaft pulled at the chunks as she cut them loose, sending them drifting off into space.

  It took only minutes before Uldir felt the gentle pressure of atmos­phere blowing out of the hole. A moment later it was large enough for them to enter.

  Uldir stuck his head in.

  Like the outside of the ship, the inside had the grown, organic look that came from actually being grown and organic. The walls glowed a pale yellowish green, though even as he watched the light began to fade as the absolute chill of space killed whatever creature created the luminescence.

  Uldir pulled himself quickly through. “Hurry,” he said. “They might not notice the hull breech, but pretty soon they’ll figure out they’re losing air.”

  “They’ll put it down to a laser strike,” Klin‑Fa said.

  “I hope we aren’t counting on that,” Vega grumbled.

  Pseudo‑gravity pulled Uldir to the deck, which–though biotic–­was already frozen harder than most metals. He saw that they stood in a long corridor that followed the curve of the outer hull. In either direction, membranes were dilating to close off the breached section.

  He picked the nearest seal, only about three meters away, but before he could reach it, it had completed its job.

  “What now?” Leaft grunted.

  “I can cut it,” Klin‑Fa said.

  “Right,” Vega drawled. “Then the next section decompresses and seals off, we cut through that, and the next section decompresses­no, they’ll never guess we’re coming.”

  “Watch and learn,” the Jedi said. With the tip of her weapon, she cut a narrow horizontal line through the emergency bulkhead. Then she stepped forward and pushed through the flexible membrane.

  “Hurry,” she said.

  Uldir went through last, and found it difficult, for the slit was now only half the size as when Klin‑Fa cut it.

  “It’s alive, remember?” She said. “It heals quickly. No more decom­pression. They won’t know we’re here until we’re nearly to our desti­nations. Maybe not even then, if they’re really distracted by the bat­tle outside.”

  Uldir noticed the barometer on his wrist array registered breath­able pressure. He pushed up the visor on his pressure suit mask. The others did the same.

  “Which way, Klin‑Fa?”

  She gestured up the corridor. “This way.”

  Now that they had opened their visors, Uldir could smell the ship. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly–a faint musk with hints of iodine and sul­fur compounds. The bioluminescent whatevers were still alive in this section, and though it provided them enough light to navigate, the dimness was unsettling. Too many shadows, and in every one Uldir imagined a Yuuzhan Vong warrior bristling with weapons. But none of the shadows moved, and the corridor was silent save for the faint swish of clothing and shush of breath. Even their footfalls were silent, for the deck here–also still alive–flexed faintly beneath their feet.

  Klin‑Fa passed several small corridors, and then stopped at a larger one.

  “This leads to the auxiliary passage,” she said. “Follow it until you reach a large, straight corridor. You can follow that up to their bridge.”

  “Which way when we get there?”

  “Right. I think.”

  “You think?” Uldir said.

  “Hey, I’ve gotten us this far.”

  “Right,” he sighed. “Okay. Vega, you go with her to find the prisoners.”

  “See, this is another part of the plan I don’t like,” Vega said. “The whole splitting‑up part where I have to trust my back to our oh‑so­-dependable Jedi pal here. Why don’t we just all take the bridge and then worry about the prisoners?”

  “Because the guards will kill them once they know they ship has been taken, that’s why,” Klin‑Fa shot back. “Besides, the prisoners can help us fight. Especially Bey–he’s a Jedi too, remember?”

  “Yes,” Uldir said, “An unarmed one, fighting enemies who don’t exist in the Force.”

  “Boss‑boy, you for this plan or not?” Vega asked. “I take orders from you, not from her.”

  “No, she’s right. They will probably execute the captives once we’ve taken the bridge–if not before.”

  “If we take it, as opposed to standing here all day wagging mandibles,” Leaft said.

  “Right,” Uldir said. “Come on, Leaft. Good luck, you two.”

  “Wait a moment,” Klin‑Fa said. “A word alone with you, captain?”

  Uldir noticed Vega raising an eyebrow.

  “What about?” He asked.

  “Alone?”

  “You can trust everyone here,” Uldir replied. “I do. Just say what­ever it is you wanted to say.”

  Klin‑Fa sighed and stepped closer. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it. I just wanted to thank you for trusting me, that’s all. Whatever happens.”

  She was very near. All he could see were her eyes. He could feel her breath on his face, and something went funny in his chest.

  And then she kissed him. It was just a brush on the lips, but it nearly knocked him off his feet.

  Then she spun on her heel and started down the corridor.

  “Brother,” Vega said, her voice registering a mixture of impatience and disgust. She followed the Jedi, shaking her head.

  “Hey...” Uldir began, but the two women had turned and were out of sight.

  “That’s one of the single most sickening things I’ve ever wit­nessed,” Leaft said. “Thanks for ruining the rest of my day.” He shud­dered. “Humans.”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything!” Uldir protested.

  “Right. You just stood there and took it.”

  Uldir scratched his head. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

  “Come on,” Leaft growled. “Now I really want to kill something.”

  This corridor was as empty and silent as the last, save for the occasional distant thud that testified that Vook and Uvee were still out there shooting. He hoped the Duro was okay; he and Uvee should be able to handle four coralskippers, and the transport’s defenses were probably too slow to nail him. Still, so many things could go wrong...

  The corridor took a hard turn to the left, just as Klin‑Fa had said it would. The lack of guards and personnel were really starting to make Uldir nervous–he kept reminding himself that this was just a trans­port, and like his father’s freighter, didn’t need a larg
e crew. Besides, the Yuuzhan Vong had spread themselves pretty thin in the last few months. Though they were technically at peace with the New Republic, they still had to control the planets they had taken–and they had taken a lot of planets. And if Klin‑Fa was right, and they were gearing up for a military strike‑shoot, maybe there weren’t any war­riors on this vessel at all.

  He was just thinking that as he emerged into the auxiliary corridor and saw a Yuuzhan Vong. He never even got a chance to see what caste he–or she–was; Leaft snapped off shots from all three of his blasters nearly simultaneously, and the Vong went down, smoking.

  “That might not have been a warrior, Leaft,” Uldir said.

  The Dug looked at him as if he had just suggested a nudist colony on Heth. “Boss–I don’t care,” Leaft said. “It’s four of us against a whole ship. We stop to ask questions, we’ll be alight meal for one of their ugly gods.”

  “True,” Uldir said. “Still–”

  He was interrupted by the whirr of thudbugs. Two Yuuzhan Vong­–clearly warriors by their tattoos and facial mutilations–had just stepped from somewhere in front of them and released the deadly insect‑weapons. Uldir turned sideways and fired his blaster. Leaft joined him, filling the corridor with a web of coherent light. One of the thud bugs struck Uldir a blow in the shoulder, but it was already car­bonized and didn’t hurt to speak of. The warriors rushed forward, rais­ing amphistaffs. Blaster bolts sparked and ricocheted from Vonduun crab armor, but the warriors weren’t wearing masks. Uldir walked his blasts up the front of the lead Vong until he came to the face. Leaft hit both knee joints of the other, sending him stumbling. He didn’t fall, though, but kept coming, jerking his amphistaff up in an arc, then swinging down in a blow that would crush even Leaft’s hard skull. Leaft coolly fired at point‑blank range into the armpit thus exposed. Experience had taught that that was the most vulnerable point in such armor, and experience did not let the Dug down. The warrior collapsed, his weapon clattering away harmlessly. Leaft hopped up on the fallen body and whirled the blaster around his finger.

  “Nice shooting,” Uldir said.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from,” the Dug said.

  “That’s good, because there’s plenty more of them,” Uldir noticed, firing down the corridor at another five warriors charging toward them.

  “Good!” The Dug roared, and was suddenly off, holstering the blaster in his foot‑hand and firing with the other two as he propelled himself along. Uldir followed more slowly, picking his shots, wishing the Dug had just a little more common sense and discipline.

  A thudbug was suddenly right in his face. He jerked to dodge, and almost did, but it grazed his forehead. Blood exploded from the wound, and he cursed, his shots going a wild as blood blinded his left eye and his depth perception was suddenly grossly impaired. Ahead, Leaft and the warriors were in hand‑to‑hand range; the Dug was bouncing in and around three of them. As Uldir watched, he leaped high over an arcing amphistaff and the head of its wielder, sending a blaster bolt straight down through the crown of the Yuuzhan Vong’s skull, whooping as if completely mad.

  The other two were still coming for Uldir. Trying to wipe blood from his eye, he nailed one in the head, but the other threw a thud­bug. Uldir tried to shoot it but managed only to interpose the gun between the insect and himself. It struck the blaster and sent it skit­tering down the corridor. Howling in satisfaction, the warrior fol­lowed up, amphistaff held at the ready.

  Uldir blinked once at the heavily armored warrior, then ran as fast as he could after his weapon.

  The amphistaff relaxed, whipped out, wrapped around one of his ankles, and yanked Uldir off his feet. He went down, face and belly slapping into the deck. Stunned, he clawed at the organic surface, but a viselike grip closed on his neck and lifted him off of the floor, turning him. He kicked feebly at the air as the Yuuzhan Vong warrior’s face came into view.

  “Pray to your infidel Force,” the warrior growled.

  Over the warrior’s shoulder, Uldir saw Leaft was still busy. Blaster bolts were flying, and the Dug was a small cyclone, but there he still had two enemies left. No help was coming from that quarter.

  “Put me down, now, and you might walk away from this alive,” Uldir advised.

  The warrior’s eyes widened. He laughed harshly, and then began to close the space between his fingers. The only thing stopping him was Uldir’s neck, which didn’t seem to be much of an impediment. Uldir wrenched at the Yuuzhan Vong’s massive hands, to no avail.

  Or so he thought. But as the universe faded to black, the pressure suddenly let up. The warrior set him almost gently back on his feet, and then slowly toppled over. Uldir fell with him, noticing almost absently that the Yuuzhan Vong no longer had a head.

  Leaft was bouncing down the corridor toward him, his remaining opponents prone and still. Uldir shook his head and stood groggily.

  “You okay, Boss?” Leaft asked.

  “Yeah. Thanks for the assist.”

  The Dug cocked his head. “What? What do you mean?”

  “That one almost had me,” he explained, gesturing at the head­less warrior.

  “Looks like you took pretty good care of him,” Leaft observed.

  Uldir frowned. “You didn’t shoot?”

  “Urr? Negative, captain.”

  That’s when Uldir noticed the hole in the ceiling, and a correspon­ding charred area on the deck. A moment before the Yuuzhan Vong’s head would have been on the line drawn between those points. Leaft followed his gaze.

  “Vook must have gotten a shot through the hull,” Uldir murmured. “He wasn’t supposed to fire at the transport.”

  “You’re kidding,” Leaft said.

  “It’s the only thing I can think of.”

  “No.” Leaft said. “Not in my universe. That’s the craziest thing I ever heard of, even with your luck. I mean, I know he was the enemy, but that’s just not fair.”

  “Well, it’s not like I had anything to do with it,” Uldir grunted, retrieving his blaster. Even as he said it, he had an uneasy, prickling feeling. His luck had always been strange and was frequently unlikely. Most people figured it had some thing to do with his Jedi training, but Uldir knew that couldn’t be the case–he hadn’t ever been able to lift even a pebble with the Force.

  Still, he had to admit Leaft was right‑this was ridiculous.

  And not something he had the leisure to ponder, anymore than he had the spare time to think about Klin‑Fa’s lips on his, and those eyes, so near his own . ..

  No pondering.

  “Come on,” he said, “We’ve got work to do. That must be com­mand and control up ahead.”

  Vook flinched as the blast he had intended for a coralskipper went wide, bending at a sharp angle as it passed near one of the small sin­gularities the vessels generated to protect themselves, and punched through the transport’s outer hull. He’d been trying to avoid actually damaging the vitals of the transport, since the others were aboard it. He took comfort in the statistical knowledge that the odds against one stray bolt hitting one of his friends were about the same as the blue‑white star below him going nova in the next two minutes.

  But he didn’t have too long to dwell on the improbable. He’d sent one of the four coralskippers whirling off to the Cenotaph of Joor, but the other three were still coming strong.

  So was he, though. The controls felt good beneath his hands, and he realized he hadn’t flown enough lately. Flying made him feel good, yet he had been deferring that duty to others, wrapping him­self in his role of ship’s mechanic.

  Why?

  He rolled the ship and hit reverse thrusters. One of the coralskip­pers trailing him came so close to his hull that it sang with magnetic resonance. He pulled some distance, fired a concussion missile, and cut in the forward lasers. Voids appeared, sucking the light into noth­ingness‑then the slower missile caught up. A void appeared to gob­ble it, too‑and the warhead promptly exploded, as it was pro­
grammed to do. The coralskipper made a dramatic and involuntary course change when the shockwave slapped it, and Vook fired the laser again. This time one of the beams sliced through, so that for a moment the irregular craft looked like a grilled urt on a charspit.

  “That’s for my uncleTyro,” he muttered. He swung the ship around. “Come on, you two,” he said. “I have plenty of dead relatives left.”

  The “door” to the bridge was dilated shut, but Leaft sliced it with his vibrodagger and hurled himself through the opening, blasting. They found two warriors on the other side‑one sat beneath a cognition hood, obviously piloting the ship. The other was waiting for them by the door. He slashed at Leaft as the Dug rolled by, saw Uldir, and tried to hit him with the reverse end of the staff. Uldir shot him twice in the armpit. The Vong staggered back, looking offended, then started toward Uldir again.

  Four bolts hit him at once, and he crashed, snarling, into the bulkhead.

  The second warrior–the pilot–ripped off the hood and reached for his staff. He found himself confronting Leaft. The Dug was bal­anced on one foot‑hand and had three blasters aimed at him.

  “Do it,” Leaft said. “Please.”

  The warrior jerked up the staff and whir!ed it over his head, slicing through the cognition hood as he stabbed the sharp‑headed end toward Leaft.

  Leaft’s blasters whined in unison.

  “Leaft, watch the door,” Uldir said, after checking to make certain neither warrior would ever rise again.

  “Got it, boss.”

  He keyed on his comlink. “Vega? What’s happening?”

  “No problem, boss‑boy,” the Corellian’s tinny voice assured him. “Not a scratch on the prisoners. Well, none dead anyway–you know how the Yuuzhan Vong treat their guests.”

  “That other Jed i there? Bey?”

  “Our favorite girl is looking for him. No luck, so far.”

  ‘That’s not good:’

  “No, I’d say not. But I’m sure you’re hopeful. I assume you’ve taken the bridge?”