Edge of Victory 2 Rebirth

by Greg Keyes

  Star Wars

  The New Jedi Order

  Edge of Victory

  II

  Rebirth

  by John Gregory Keys

  Scan/OCR by Gilad

  The author would like to thank the following people: The Flying Rat

  Toli club, for support during a dark time.

  Shelly Shapiro and Sue Rostoni for timely help, advice, and hard work

  at every stage of the process. My fellow authors-Troy Denning, Jim Luceno,

  Elaine Cunningham, and Mike Stackpole for helping me try and get things

  right. Thanks also to Michael Kogge, Colette Russen, Kathleen O'Shea, Deanna

  Hoak, Ben Harper, Leland Chee, Chris Cerasi, Enrique Guerrero, Eelia

  Goldsmith Hendersheid, Helen Keier, and Dan Wallace. And again, to Kris

  Boldis for his support. It's been a blast, everyone!

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Anakin Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

  Booster Terrik; captain, Errant Venture (male human)

  Cilghal; Jedi healer (female Mon Calamari)

  Corran Horn; Jedi Knight (male human)

  Colonel Gavin Darklighter; Rogue Squadron (male human)

  Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

  Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

  Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

  Kae Kwaad; master shaper (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Kam Solusar; Jedi Master (male human)

  Kyp Durron; Jedi Master (male human)

  Leia Organa Solo; former New Republic diplomat (female human)

  Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

  Mara Jade Skywalker; Jedi Master (female human)

  Nen Yim; shaper adept (female Yuuzhan Vong)

  Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Onimi; Supreme Overlord Shimrra's jester (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Qurang Lah; warleader (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Tahiri Veila; Jedi student (female human)

  Talon Karrde; independent information broker (male human)

  Traest Kre'fey; admiral (male Bothan)

  Tsavong Lah; warmaster (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Vergere; familiar to the deceased Yuuzhan Vong priestess,

  Elan (female Fosh)

  PROLOGUE

  Blood, drifting in starlight,

  That was the first thing Jacen Solo saw when he opened his eyes. It had

  beaded into what looked, in the dim, like polished black pearls reflecting

  the ancient starlight filtering through the transparisteel a meter or so

  away. He noted absently that the spheroids were all spinning in the same

  direction.

  He was spinning, too, very slowly, through the little nebula of blood.

  Even in the negligible illumination he could tell he was only a few

  centimeters from a wall.

  From the ache in his leg and skull, he had a good idea where the blood

  was coming from. It was cold, too, but the air seemed stuffy.

  What was going on?

  Outside the window, something large and irregular moved to block the

  stars, and he remembered.

  Tsavong Lah, warmaster of the Yuuzhan Vong, clicked the obsidian-sharp

  talons of his new foot against the living coral of his command chamber floor

  and considered it in the pale light of the myco luminescent walls.

  He might have had the foot the cursed Jeedai took from him replaced

  with a clone of his own, but that would have been not only dishonorable but

  personally unsatisfying. That an infidel had taken something from him was

  bad enough; to pretend that the wound had never happened was unthinkable.

  But a hobbling warmaster would lose respect, especially if he had not

  made the sacrifice himself.

  The pain was fading, and feeling was coming into his new foot as the

  nerves learned their way. The four armored digits of a vua'sa now made up

  half his stride.

  The choice was an homage to the most ancient traditions of his office.

  The first warmaster created by Yun-Yuuzhan had not been a Yuuzhan Vong, but

  a living weapon-beast he named vua'sa. A Yuuzhan Vong challenged the vua'sa

  to single combat, triumphed, and took its place. Even now, Vua was a popular

  name among the warrior caste.

  Tsavong Lah had bade the shapers grow him a vua'sa. Though the creature

  had been extinct since the ancestral home planet was lost, its pattern still

  existed in the deeps of shaper memory-qahsa. They had made it; he had fought

  it and triumphed, despite having to fight on one foot. Now Tsavong Lah knew

  the gods still deemed him worthy of his station.

  And from the cooling corpse of the vua'sa, he had a new foot.

  "Warmaster."

  Tsavong recognized the voice of his aide, Selong Lian, but did not look

  up from the examination of his prize.

  "Speak."

  "Someone petitions for words with you."

  "Not my expected appointment?"

  "No, Warmaster. It is the deception-sect priestess Ngaaluh."

  Tsavong Lah growled in the back of his throat. Worshipers of Yun-Harla

  had failed the Yuuzhan Vong of late. Still, the sect was powerful, and

  Supreme Overlord Shimrra continued to favor the antics of those who

  worshiped the Trickster goddess. And since Yun-Harla oversaw the elevation

  of warriors and had possibly aided him in his fight with the vua'sa, he

  perhaps owed the goddess a favor, as well.

  "Let me hear her words," he said.

  A moment later, the priestess entered. She was slender, her

  back-sloping forehead narrower than most, the bluish sacs beneath her eyes

  mere crescents. She wore a ceremonial robe of living tissue grown to

  resemble a flayed skin.

  "Warmaster," she said, crossing her arms in salute. "I am greatly

  honored."

  "Your message," he snapped impatiently. "I have other business waiting.

  Harrar sent you?" "Yes, Warmaster." "Speak, then." "The priestess Elan, who

  died to further the conquest of

  the infidels-"

  "Who failed her task," Tsavong Lah reminded.

  "Just so, Warmaster. She failed, but died nevertheless in the cause of

  the glorious Yuuzhan Vong. The priestess Elan had a familiar, a sentient

  creature named Vergere."

  "I am aware of that. Did it not die with its mistress?"

  "No, Warmaster. That is what I have come to tell you. It managed to

  escape the infidels and make its way back to us."

  "Did it."

  "Yes, Warmaster. She has communicated to us much of interest concerning

  the infidels, things she learned in their custody. Much more she knows and

  will not tell except to you, Tsavong Lah."

  "You suspect an infidel trick? An attempt to assassinate

  me, perhaps?"

  "We do not entirely trust her, Warmaster, but determined to bring you

  her words so you might decide how to treat

  her."

  Tsavong Lah inclined his heavily scarred features. "It is good you did

  so. She must be interrogated and examined by the haar vhinic, of course.

  Afterward, have her brought to my ship, but keep her far from me. Tell her I

  will need further proof of both her intelligence and intentions before she

  may stand before me,"

>   "It will be done, Warmaster."

  He gave the priestess the sign of dismissal, and she immediately

  departed. Good. A priestess who knew her station.

  His aide immediately took her place at the red-flanged receiving

  portal. "Qurang Lah has arrived, Warmaster," he said. "And the executor, Nom

  Anor."

  "They will see me, now," Tsavong Lah pronounced.

  Qurang Lah was his creche-brother, a less elevated version of himself.

  His face was cut in deep hatch marks, and

  the gash of Domain Lah, while not as deep as the war-master's

  ear-to-ear cut, was still a clear marker of his lineage.

  "Belek tiu, Warmaster." Qurang Lah saluted with crossed arms, as did

  the much slighter executor by his side. "Command me."

  Tsavong Lah nodded at his creche-brother, but fixed his gaze on Nom

  Anor. The executor's one real eye and the venomous plaeryin bol that

  occupied his other socket stared unblinking back at him.

  "Executor," Tsavong Lah rumbled. "I have taken your latest suggestions

  under advisement. You are certain they are ripe for conquest?"

  "The hinges of their fortress are weakened, Warmaster," Nom Anor

  replied. "I have seen to it personally. The battle will be a quick one, the

  victory easily secured."

  "I have heard this from you before," the warmaster said. He turned his

  attention to the warrior. "Qurang Lah. You have been briefed in the matter.

  Have you anything to say?"

  Qurang Lah revealed his sharpened teeth. "Conquest is always

  desirable," he said. "However, this seems a foolish time to move. The

  infidels tremble before us; they fear to counterattack; they dare dream our

  bloody path ended with Duro and that we might be satisfied to live in the

  same galaxy with abomination-using vermin. This is to our advantage; the

  shipwomb produces their doom, but it must be given time. At this moment, our

  fleet is thinly scattered, more thinly than the infidels know. One misstep

  now,'before the shipwomb again swells our fleet, could be costly indeed."

  "There will be no cost," Nom Anor asserted. "And the moment to strike

  is now. If we wait longer, the Jeedai will have more time to act."

  "The Jeedai." Tsavong Lah snarled. "Tell me, Nom Anor. With all of your

  infidel contacts and all your self-proclaimed expertise in manipulating

  them, why have you been unable to bring me the one Jeedai I desire above all

  others-Jacen Solo?"

  Nom Anor did not flinch. "That is a most difficult task, as you know,

  Warmaster," he admitted. "Certain elements

  among the Jeedai and their allies have gone rogue. They no longer

  answer to the senate, or any other body where we have allies. That is my

  point; when you told the infidels that we would cease our conquest if the

  Jeedai were delivered up to us, it was a brilliant strategy. It gave us time

  to build our force and secure our territories. It gave us many Jeedai. But

  Jacen is kin to Skywalker, the master of them all. He is the son of Leia

  Organa Solo and Han Solo, both worthy opponents who have managed to vanish

  for the time being. I have strategies that will uncover them; even now, a

  plan unfolds regarding Skywalker and his mate Mara and that will bring the

  others running, Jacen included."

  "And this place you wish to feel the talons of our might? This involves

  the Jeedai?"

  "It does not, Warmaster. But it will throw their senate into desperate

  confusion. It will give us the leverage we need to end the Jeedai threat

  forever. As of now, the government of the New Republic still refuses to make

  it policy to outlaw the Jeedai. In one stroke I can change that, as well as

  build us a new fortress overlooking the Core. But the time is now; if we

  wait, we will lose our opportunity."

  "Nom Anor has counseled us ill before," Qurang Lah

  said.

  "This is too true," the warmaster returned. "But it chafes me not to

  strike, to pretend quiescence so long. The number of Jeedai the weak-kneed

  infidels have given us has declined lately. We were humiliated at Yavin

  Four. There must be atonement, and Yun-Yuuzhan craves the scent of blood."

  "If you wish it, Warmaster," Qurang Lah said, "I shall lead my fleet. I

  never shrink from battle when my duty

  calls."

  "Hurr," Tsavong Lah murmured, considering. "Nom Anor, you will

  implement your plan. Qurang Lah will command the Yuuzhan Vong forces, and

  you will advise him how to proceed. If your advice is again flawed, there

  will be a more serious reckoning. If it is good, as you assure me it will

  be, you will atone for your recent mistakes. Do you understand?"

  "I understand, Warmaster. I will not fail."

  "See you do not. Qurang Lah, have you anything else to say?"

  "I have not, Warmaster. My duty is clear now." He snapped the salute.

  "Belek tiu. The infidels will fall before us. Their ships shall burn like

  falling stars. As I speak it, it is already done."

  PART I

  THRESHOLD

  ONE

  "You've had worse ideas, Luke," Mara Jade Skywalker reluctantly

  admitted, nodding her head back so the sunlight fell on her face and her

  deep red-gold tresses trailed behind her. Posed that way, eyes closed,

  framed against the blue line of the sea, her beauty closed Luke's throat for

  a moment.

  Mara's green eyes opened, and she looked at him with a sort of wistful

  fondness before arching a cynical brow.

  "Getting all fatherly on me again?"

  "No," he said softly. "Just thinking how ridiculously lucky I am."

  "Hey. I'm the one with the hormone swings. You aren't trying to one-up

  me, are you?" But she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Come on," she

  said. "Let's walk a bit more."

  "You sure you're up to it?"

  "What, you want to carry me? Of course I'm up to it. I'm pregnant, not

  hamstrung. You think it would be better for our kid if I spent all day lying

  around sucking on oorp?"

  "I just thought you wanted to relax."

  "Absolutely. And this is relaxing. Us, all alone, on a beautiful

  island. Well, sort of an island. Come on."

  The beach was warm beneath Luke's bare feet. He had been reluctant to

  agree to going shoeless, but Mara had insisted that's what one did on a

  beach. He found, to his surprise, that it reminded him pleasantly of his

  boyhood on Tatooine. Back then, in the relative cool of early evening- one

  of those rare periods when both blazing suns were nearly set-sometimes he

  would take his shoes off and feel

  the still-warm sand between his toes. Not when Uncle Owen was looking,

  of course, because the old man would launch into an explanation of what

  shoes were for in the first place, about the valuable moisture Luke was

  losing though his soles.

  For an instant, he could almost hear his uncle's voice and smell Aunt

  Beru's giju stew. He had an urge to put his shoes back on.

  Owen and Beru Larses had been the first personal casualties in Luke

  Skywalker's battle against the Empire. He wondered if they had known why

  they died.

  He missed them. Anakin Skywalker may have been his father, but the

  Larses had been his parents
.

  "I wonder how Han and Leia are doing?" Mara wondered aloud,

  interrupting his reverie.

  "I'm sure they're fine. They've only been gone a few days."

  "I wonder if Jacen should have gone with them?" "Why not? He's proven

  himself capable often enough. And they're his parents. Besides, with half

  the galaxy after him, it's better he stay on the move."

  "Right. I only meant it makes things worse for Jaina. It's hard on her,

  doing nothing, knowing her brother is out fighting the fight."

  "I know. But Rogue Squadron will probably call her up pretty soon."

  "Sure," Mara replied. "Sure they will." She sounded far from convinced.

  "You don't think so?" Luke asked.

  "No. I think they would like to, but her Jedi training makes her too

  much of a political liability right now."

  "When did the Rogues ever care about politics? Has someone said this to

  you?"

  "Not in so many words, but I hear things, and I'm trained to listen to

  the words behind the words. I hope I'm wrong, for Jama's sake."

  Her feelings brushed Luke in the Force, running a troubled harmony to

  her assertion.

  "Mara," Luke said, "my love, while I'll believe you when you say

  picking up parasites on a strange beach is relaxing-"

  "Nonsense. This sand is as sterile as an isolation lab. It's perfectly

  safe to walk barefoot. And you like the feel of it."

  "If you say so. But I forbid any more talk about politics, Jedi, the

  war, the Yuuzhan Vong, anything like that. We're out here for you to relax,

  to forget all of that for a day or so. Just a day."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're the one who thinks the whole

  universe will collapse unless you're there to keep it spinning."

  "I'm not pregnant."

  "Say something like that again, and I'll make you wish you were," she

  said, a bit sharply. "And by the way, if we do this again, it's your turn."

  "We'll play sabacc for it," Luke responded, trying to keep a straight

  face but failing. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, hard.

  They continued along the strand, past a rambling stand of crawling

  slii, all knotted roots and giant gauzy leaves. Waves were beginning to lap

  on the beach, as they hadn't earlier, which meant they were on the bow side

  of the "island."