by Greg Keyes
“I’m master of all I survey,” Uldir replied. “Keep looking. And keep your eyes open. I think we got all the warriors up here, but this ship may hold a few surprises yet.”
“No doubt.”
He changed frequencies and hailed the No Luck Required. “Vook?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you busy?”
“No, sir. I finished off the last of the coralskippers a few moments ago. I assume you command the enemy vessel, as it has ceased fire.”
“Yep, we’ve got the bridge. Good work, Vook. I knew you could do it”
“Thank you sir. It was a pleasure.” There was a slight pause. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. For the opportunity–and the advice.”
“Any time, Vook.”
“And sir?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed this and are working to correct–”
“What is it, Vook?”
“You might want to change your course. The transport is accelerating toward the black hole. You have plenty of time–15.02 minutes–but the sooner the better.”
‘Oh, that’s–thanks, Vook.”
“Did I hear something about a black hole?” Leaft asked, from the doorway.
Uldir stepped over the body of the pilot. “Yes. The pilot must have aimed us at it. Leaft, what do you know about flying Yuuzhan Vong ships?”
“No more than you, probably. They link to their ships telepathically, with those hoods.”
“Is there any back‑up system that you know of? Manual controls?”
“If there is, I’ve never heard about it. Why?”
Uldir lifted the remains of the hood the pilot had been wearing. It was sheared more or less in half, and the cable–or nerve cord, he supposed–had been cut as well. Yellowish ooze leaked from both ends of the severed connection.
“Because if there isn’t, we may be in a bit of a situation.”
“Nah. Let it fall‑one less Vong ship is a good thing. We’ll go back to the No Luck.”
Uldir tapped his comlink on. “Vega, you there?”
“Of course I am. It’s a party down here. We found the Jedi, too. He’s in some sort of coma.”
“That’s good. That you found him, I mean. I don’t mean I’m glad he’s in a coma–”
“Boss‑boy, you sound like an idiot. What’s the matter? You think this guy is competition for your suave good looks and smooth talking?”
“Vega, get serious for a second and tell me how many captives you have there.”
“Looks like around two hundred. Why?”
“That’s about a hundred and eighty more than we can get aboard the No Luck Required.”
“Yes, surprisingly, I knew that,” Vega replied. “I thought our plan was to capture this ship and use it to get the captives to safe space.”
“Right. It was.” He rubbed his forehead. “Why can nothing ever be simple?”
“I think you’re pretty simple sometimes, boss,” Vega said, sweetly. “What’s the trouble?”
“Nothing much. We’re just falling into a black hole.”
“We’re what–”
Uldir cut her off, switched back to Vook.
“Vook? We have a small problem. We can’t fly this thing. I need you to figure out if the No Luck has the power to tow us. And I need you to figure this out quickly.”
“Yes, sir. I think we–oh, no.”
“Vook?”
“Sir, I may have a problem too. A Yuuzhan Vong ship just arrived.” There was a moment of silence.
“Yes,” Vook said afterthe pause. “Definitely a problem. It’s firing on me.”
Tsaa Qalu allowed himself a grimace of pleasure as he turned his weapons on the transport. He had hunted often since entering the infidel galaxy, but never had there been a hunt like this. It was clear Yun Harla favored him.
The infidel began returning fire. That was even better, for helpless prey brought no glory.
And this hunt would bring him much glory, if it continued to go as he anticipated.
His smile vanished. Kills were counted after the battle, not before. A confident hunter was a stupid one, and Tsaa Qalu was not stupid.
CHAPTER VI:
Emissary of the Void
“I ALWAYS FIGURED I WOULD SEE what killed me,” Leaft said, scratching behind one ear with his right foot-hand.
“Well,” Uldir said, absently, “you can see where it isn’t.”
Leaft snorted. “Human word games,” he said. “We not only won’t see anything, we won’t feel anything. No way for a warrior to go. My mother always said I would come to a bad end, hanging around with humans.”
“Well, nobody twisted your leg. Anyway, you were already destined for a bad end, no matter what company you kept.” Uldir shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, nobody knows exactly what you feel when you cross the singularity of a black hole. It might be extremely painful when every atom in your body collapses into neutrons. And since time virtually stops, it could last a really long time.”
“You’re trying to cheer me up.”
“No, what I’m doing is trying to think of a way to keep it form happening at all, Leaft. There are over two hundred people on this ship. Maybe you should stop worrying about whether this is a worthy death for you and start–”
He turned at a sound behind him, raising his blaster. After all, they were on an enemy vessel. He thought they had accounted for all of the crew, but with the Yuuzhan Vong you never knew. The ship, like all of their tools, was a living organism. It probably had weird pockets and chambers everywhere that they hadn’t noticed.
But the woman shrugging through the shredded biolock of the slave transport’s bridge was not Yuuzhan Vong; she was a short Corellian with platinum hair, a diamond-cutting gaze, and a blaster rifle.
“Hi, Vega,” Uldir said. “Good work down there.”
“Good work yourself. Explain to me again how we’re falling into a black hole?”
“The pilot aimed us at it, then attacked Leaft. Leaft had to kill him.” He gestured at one of the three mutilated bodies on the floor. The scars and mutilations were old ones – the Yuuzhan Vong cut themselves up as a sign of rank. What had killed the pilot were the three blaster bolts the Dug had put in him.
“So un-aim it,” Vega recommended. “Change course.”
Someone else was coming through the ruined portal behind Vega – a young woman with dark hair with bangs. Half-supported on her shoulder was a tall human male with a shock of red hair and emerald eyes. Uldir knew the woman – she was a Jedi, Klin-Fa Gi, and she was directly responsible for the mission that had led them to their present situation. He didn’t know the man, but from the way he and Klin-Fa were so chummy, he figured it was the Jedi they had come here to rescue.
“The pilot destroyed the cognition hood, too,” he explained, trying to ignore the sudden sinking feeling in his belly.
Vega’s brow folded. “There aren’t any manual controls?”
“None that I know of. If you see any, be sure and let me know, though.” He turned to a Jedi. Klin-Fa, you’ve had a little more experience with Vong ships. What do you think?”
“The Yuuzhan Vong aren’t much for back-up systems,” she said.
“Probably think it’s cowardly thinking, or some such idiocy,” Vega snorted. “How about we get a tow? Vook’s still out there with the No Luck Required. He should have enough power to divert us from this suicide course.”
“Yes, although with the gravity well that thing has, that window is rapidly closing. Unfortunately, it’s not an option now – he’s under attack.”
“I thought he took care of all the coralskippers,” Vega said.
Uldir shrugged. “Something else showed up. I’m not sure what, he didn’t really have time to talk. But unless he beats them in the next ten minutes, we’re on our own.”
Tsaa Qalu snarled with satisfaction as he put his ship into a roll and prodded the plasma nacel
les to disgorge. Red gobbets leapt out toward the infidel ship, No Luck Required.
“This pilot is quite good,” he said. “He knows our ways.”
“He is an infidel, sir,” his subordinate reminded him.
“You deny his piloting skills, Laph Rapuun?” Tsaa Qalu grunted, as the dim was suddenly banded by viridian laser fire. That was no worry, the Throat Slasher defensive voids should stop them all, but something didn’t smell right.
A hunter lived by instinct. He yawed hard to upper port.
The cognition hood through which he flew the Throat Slasher made the ship seem as his own body, so when he changed direction violently he felt something akin to a twisted ankle. At the same time, he felt the surge of g-forces as the dovin basal taxed itself, unable to cancel all of the momentum from such an abrupt shift.
But it was a good move. Distracted by the laser barrage, he hadn’t noticed the concussion missile falling in a long parabola from another quadrant. The infidel must have released it much earlier in the battle, instructing it in this delayed maneuver. Even with his sudden course change, the detonation was almost too close. The blow briefly stunned the Slasher, sending it off in a flat spin. Slices of enemy light followed him, nipping off cubic meters of yorik coral hull before he regained control.
“Well, Rapuung?” he sneered. “Only the instincts given me by the gods saved us from that. Still you question his skill?”
“It is his machine, sir, not him.”
“Bah. Their machines are lifeless and vulgar. Do you truly suggest that a machine nearly killed us? You would prefer that explanation to the simple acceptance that some infidel pilots have superior skill?”
“That is heresy, sir.”
“It is not,” Tsaa Qalu roared. “It is truth. Truth is essential to a hunter, Rapuung. If you underestimate the prey because you lie to yourself, you will become prey yourself. The infidels are corrupt, yes, and most are weak. But some are worthy, as they have proven time and time again. It is utterly foolish to say otherwise.”
“But the priests–”
“The priests.” Tsaa Qalu spat the word out as if it were poison.
He had the No Luck Required beneath his talons again. He gnashed his teeth and fired. This time a red flare of evaporating metal told him he had pierced the enemy shields.
“He may be a good pilot,” Laph Rapuung conceded. “But he cannot match you.”
“Of course not. I am a hunter, chosen by the god for the cloak of the nuun.”
“And now you will destroy him.”
“Soon.”
The villip before him chose that moment to configure into the face of Viith Yalu, the master Shaper on Wayland, the planet where this hunt had begun.
“Tsaa Qalu!” The Shaper demanded, as the villip tried to imitate the writhing tendrils of his headdress and thus convey the Master’s agitation.
“Yes, Master Shaper.”
“If you are not alone, send your subordinates away. I have something to discuss with you.” There was something deeply grudging in his voice.
“I am in the middle of battle.”
“Break off immediately, in that case. I must speak to you now.”
“Very well,” Qalu said, trying to keep his own rancor from showing. He changed the vector to take him farther from the infidel, firing a few parting shots. The ship did not follow but instead moved back toward the doomed slave transport.
“Leave us, Laph Rapuung,” he said.
Uldir watched waxing nothingness with a growing sense of helplessness.
“Any ideas, people?” He asked. “Speak up.”
“There is a possibility,” the red-haired croaked. They werethe first words he had spoken.
“I’m sorry,” Uldir said. “You are...?”
Knowing full well whom it must be, the way he and Klin-Fa were playing cozy.
“Bey Gandan. A Jedi, like Klin-Fa.”
Right. “Y”ou know some way to fly this ship?”
“I think so.” He said. He winced and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Vega said.
“He’s hurt,” Klin-Fa snapped. “Can’t you see that? Give him a minute.”
Nope, Uldir thought, I do not like this guy. He looked frankly at Bey. “No offense, but I thought you were in a coma,” he said.
“He was,” Klin-Fa explained. “I snapped him out of it with the Force. Do you want to survive, Uldir?”
“Please,” Bey said. “Don’t argue. I may pass out again, and I have to tell you this while I’m still coherent.”
“Let him talk, Boss,” Vega said. “It can’t hurt at this point.”
“Go on,” Uldir said, vaguely ashamed of his attitude. But this guy had been rubbin him the wrong way before they met, and now...
“The coralskippers also have cognition hoods,” Bey said. “They’re linked, networked with the central control of this ship. If there’s still a ‘skip on board, you ought to be able to pilot the transport from there–remotely, so to speak.”
“That’s stupid,” Leaft snapped. “Any coralskipper pilot can take over the ship any time?”
Bey shook his head. “No, not if someone is under the central hood. But if it’s out of commission, then yes, I believe so.”
“Urr.” Leaft bared his teeth. “And how is it you know so much about piloting Vong ships?”
“I’ve been their captive for a while,” Bey said, mildly. “And I’m still only guessing. But I think it’s the best shot that you’ve got.”
“It’s worth a try,” Uldir had to admit.
“Where are the ‘skipper bays?” Vega asked. “I’ll do it.”
“They should be along the outer hull access corridor,” Klin-Fa said. “Go back to the axial corridor and take any major artery away from the center.”
“Fine,” Vega said. “Wish me luck.” She turned to leave.
“No,” Leaft growled. “I’ll try it. And if it doesn’t work...”
“If it doesn’t work, you’ll think uncharitable thoughts for a few seconds, at best,” Klin-Fa said.
“Don’t tempt me, Jedi,” Leaft returned, glaring.
Klin-Fa returned the angry stare dispassionately.
“Go, Leaft, if you’re going,” Uldir said. “And may the Force be with you.”
Leaft rolled his eyes and without another word loped out of the chamber.
“Are you sure it’s wise to entrust him with this?” Klin-Fa asked, once the Dug was out of earshot.
Uldir studied the young Jedi. He noticed she was gripping Bey, almost as if she was afraid he might leave her again.
“You think you can fly better than Leaft?” He asked.
“No. But I think you can. And his anger–”
“The Yuuzhan Vong are pretty angry,” Uldir said. “I don’t think that will confuse this ship any.”
“Six minutes, boss-boy,” Vega said. “Then it doesn’t matter who is flyin the ship–we’ll be too deep in the gravity well to ever climb ou.”
Uldir nodded and returned his gaze to the transparency. Leaft had been right–hey couldn’t see the black hole and they never would. But as he’d said, you could see where it wasn’t–a corona of luminescent gas and iron particles surrounded it in a bluish nimbus. It looked like the pupil of a giant large enough to swallow a star system.
He noticed Vega had edged a little closer. “You think he can do it?” she whispered.
It sounded weird, coming from Vega. Vega never flinched. He had never imagined she even gave death a second thought. But then–like Leaft–she was used to facing down danger with a blaster. It was different to falling helplessly into nothingness. It was why he’d let Leaft be the one to make the attempt–another few seconds and the Dug would have made his own.
Leaft snarled and spat to himself as he ran through the living corridors of theYuuzhan Vong ship. His anger beat in him like one of the old Y’sd drums of the thorp elders, like an ancient Gran-killing song. Like sonic boom after
sonic boom.
The boss had gone mad; there was no doubt about that. As revolting as the human female was, she had still managed to drive him mad–whether the cause was pheromones or the so-called Force, he did not know. And Vega, she was acting stupid too, like someone had taken her wilf-skimmer. If she wanted the boss, why didn’t she just puff out her skin and take him? She was strong enough.
Not that Leaft ever, ever wanted to see a human female or male puff out their skin.
Of course, they didn’t do that, did they? No inflating for them. No decent, straightforward announcement of a desire to mate. Instead, they drove each other crazy wit words and then pulled idiotic stunts to impress one another. It was as if nature had turned on humans, favoring procreation of the foolish over selection of the fittest.
And, yes, maybe there was some sort of threat to the galaxy, or whatever. Did that justify this kind of behavior?
Even if he managed to pull them out of this–like he had back at Wayland, when he’d thought to go out and hook up the fuel line to that old ship–even if he did that, in under a standard hour they’d been deep in some other sarlacc pit, because every human on the ship was swept up in this mating frenzy.
He stopped, whipping around. Where were the stupid coral-skippers? He thought he was in the right corridor. They were on the outside of the ship, but there had to be some way in to them from here, some docking mechanism.
He started pounding on the walls. How much time did he have left anyway?
Maybe it wasn’t the boss who was stupid. Maybe he was. Maybe he should have gotten better instructions.
“Where are you?” He howled. He bounced farther down the corridor. Nothing.
In sheer frustration, he yanked out his blasters and started firing. Shreds of mycoluminescent bulkhead filled the air, along with a smell like burning meat and seaweed.
Panting, he sank onto his hands. They’d had it.
And then, quite silently, holes opened in the walls, each about a meter wide.
“Don’t know what I’m about, eh?” Leaft snarled. “I’ll show them.”
The holes were the mouths of tubes. Most didn’t go very far and ended in opacity–after all, the transport had launched most of its skips to fight the No Luck Required. But after a frantic footfall of seconds, he found one that went back into a little grotto. He hastened down it and found something like a cross between the inside of a starfighter and the rotting carcass of a rancor. There was a seat, though, and he hopped in. The cognition hood dangled above him, and he grabbed it and pushed it down over his ears and head.