by Greg Keyes
we intend to continue our conquest of their galaxy-unless we finish here, we
will have nothing to show for that tactical loss."
Qurang Lah showed his sharpened teeth. "The loss is yours, Executor,"
he said. "You may be sure that the war-master will hear a most complete
version of how you've bungled this entire business." His eyes narrowed. "Let
me speak to Shok Choka."
Nom Anor kept his face impassive. "He was slain by the Jeedai. All of
your men were."
The commander's face pulled into an incredulous frown. "All of them?
And yet you made it safely back to your ship?"
"I was separated from your warriors and the jeedai when the Givin
emptied their station of atmosphere."
Qurang Lah held his stare for another moment. "Yes," he said softly.
"The warmaster will hear much from me."
Before Nom Anor could begin another rebuttal, the villip cleared,
leaving him to pace the decks of his ship in frustration.
Not to mention trepidation.
FORTY-FIVE
Jaina climbed out of her X-wing wearily, feeling far older than her
eighteen years. She wanted to get in bed, turn the lights out, and stay
there.
She wanted Jacen, and Anakin, and her mother and father. She wanted to
hear C-3PO going on inanely, and she wanted to see Aunt Mara, to find out
what was wrong with her.
What she got instead was Kyp Durron, climbing out of his starfighter, a
grin smearing across his face as he walked toward her.
In a way, he would do.
She watched him come, with that stupid smile, until he was close
enough. Then she slapped him, hard.
His smile faded, but otherwise he didn't react.
"You knew," she said. "You knew, and you lied, and you made me a part
of it."
The other pilots, in the middle of postbattle jubilation, were starting
to stare.
"What are you talking about?" Lensi asked. Jaina had seen the Duros
coming from the corner of her vision.
"Tell him, Kyp. Tell him what his friends died for. Tell them rhat
thing we just paid so dearly to blow up wasn't a superweapon. That it wasn't
a weapon at all."
Kyp straightened and folded his arms. "Everything the Vong possess is a
weapon," he said.
"B-but the footage we saw in briefing," Lensi stammered. "I saw what it
did. It pulled fire out of Sernpidal's sun."
"No," Jaina said. "That's what it looked like, but that's not what
happened. The Yuuzhan Vong set up a relay system of hundreds of dovin
basals, hung in a long corridor
all the way to the sun. It was just a big, unwieldy linear accelerator,
a way to get hydrogen and helium to use in their shipbuilding, or something.
But a giant gravitic weapon? No. Kyp made that up, to get us here."
While talking to Lensi, she hadn't taken her gaze off Kyp's face. Nor
did she now.
"What was it, Kyp? What did we just blow up? Or do you even know?"
"I know," Kyp said. "It was a worldship, a new one. If it's any
comfort, it wasn't finished, and there probably weren't many Vong aboard."
"Then why did you want it blown up? Why did you lie?" Lensi asked.
Kyp's face hardened. "The Yuuzhan Vong have destroyed, conquered, and
raped our planets. They enslave civilian populations, and they sacrifice our
citizens by the thousands. But until today, the only Vong we've hurt are
those who come against us-the warriors. I wanted to hit them where they
live, to let them know their civilians aren't sacrosanct if ours aren't."
"Then why an empty worldship?" Jaina asked. "Why not just pick a full
one and blow it up, Kyp? You can't tell me you would be squeamish about
that."
"You're wrong about that, Jaina, and I think you know it," Kyp said.
"But sure, from what I've managed to find out we could have probably blasted
one of their older ships. But that wouldn't have really hurt them. This
does. Their worldships are dying, and a lot of them aren't in good enough
shape to make it anywhere they can let people off. This one would have been
hyperdrive capable, and it could have housed the populations of many of
their smaller worldships. Now they have to choose between letting their
children die in space or expending military resources to move them to
conquered planets. Either way, it only helps us fight them-and it sends a
message."
"Yeah, right," Jaina snapped. "It sends the message that we're not any
better than they are."
"We were here first. It's our galaxy. If they had come peacefully, we
would have given them the space they
needed." He lifted his chin and raised his voice to address everyone in
the room. "You should all be proud of what you did today. You fought against
terrible odds and you won. You struck a blow against the Vong, and a good
one. This was for Sernpidal, for Ithor, for Duro, for Dubrillion, for
Garqi-for every planet the Vong have despoiled."
To Jaina's utter astonishment, he got cheers. Not from everyone-she saw
Gavin and Wedge across the room, their faces tight and angry. But nearly
everyone.
"Ask them, Jaina. You don't really have a homeworld. You were raised
all over the galaxy. Most of these people know what it's like to have had a
home, and too many of them know what it's like to lose one, thanks to the
Yuuzhan Vong. You think they mind evening the score a little?"
"I think you owed us the truth. Maybe we would have decided to help you
if you had been straight with us."
"And maybe you wouldn't have. As long as you thought it was a
superweapon, you were ready to go. But we've set them back here more than
the destruction of any weapon. By the time they grow another one-"
"-their children start dying. Right. I get that. Bravo, Kyp. Well done.
Except you used me. You made me tell your lie, and now the blood of every
Yuuzhan Vong child who suffocates in space is on my hands, too."
"There's more to this universe than Jaina Solo, believe it or not," Kyp
said, very quietly. "I'm sorry you feel used, and I wish I hadn't had to lie
to you. But I did have to. You wouldn't have helped me otherwise."
"And I'll never help you again," Jaina said. "You can count on it. If
you were dying of thirst on Tatooine, I wouldn't even spit on you." And with
that she left, found the stateroom she had been assigned, turned out the
lights, and wept.
The next day, with Gavin Darklighter's permission, she left to find the
Errant Venture.
FORTY-SIX
"It's a weird thing," Corran said, as the Errant Venture grew larger
through the transparisteel lozenge of the Givin ship.
"What's that?" Anakin asked.
"Being happy to see my father-in-law's ship."
"Ah." Anakin tried to smile, but he couldn't. He'd been searching for
Aunt Mara in the Force. The results were ambiguous-at times he thought he
had her, but at other times it didn't seem like her at all. The feeling that
she was dying had scarred his mind, and deep in his gut he feared she was
already dead and his occasional sense of contact was merely a residual
imprint of her living self.
meter or so away. She gave him a brief smile.
"Uh . .. hi," he said.
"Hi," Tahiri replied. Her eyes refused to settle on his for long, but
he could feel her uncertainty matching his own. "Looks like we're almost
there," she pointed out unnecessarily.
"Yeah." Why did his fingers feel like hammers and his legs like spongy
pillars? This was Tahiri.
"And we can finally get out of these things for good," Tahiri went on,
"I never want to wear a vac suit again as long as I live."
"Right. Me either." The suits had made a recurrence of what had
happened in the locker on Yag'Dhul Station impossible. What would happen
when they were in shirtsleeves again?
It was a nearly terrifying thought.
"You think Mara's okay?"
Anakin shook his head. "No."
"She will be. She has to be."
"Yeah." A long, awkward silence followed as they drew near the Errant
Venture. Corran was busily trying to prove they were who he said they
were-despite the fact that they weren't in the same ship they'd left in-so
he could get clearance to enter the docking bay.
"Hey, Anakin?" Tahiri asked.
"Yeah?"
"What's going on? You've hardly said two words to me since we left
Yag'Dhul."
"We were kind of busy, and I... I'm worried about Aunt Mara."
"Uh-huh. Look, have you changed your mind?"
"About what?"
"About . . . you know. Are you sorry now? I mean, we were about to die
and everything. It's perfectly understandable, because we've been best
friends for so long, but maybe now you're thinking I'm too young, and
remembering all the trouble I've gotten you into, and, well, maybe we ought
to just forget. . ." Her green eyes did meet his then, with a sort of ionic
jolt.
"Tahiri..."
"Right. I get it. No harm done."
"Tahiri, I haven't changed my mind. I'm not sorry at all. I don't know
exactly what it all means, and we are young, both of us. But I don't regret
kissing you. And, um ... it wasn't just because I thought we were dying."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, okay then."
He was trying to decide what to say next without totally messing up the
situation, when a staggering pain suddenly jolted through him.
"Aunt Mara!" he gasped. "Aunt Mara!" Another blinding wave of agony
made his knees buckle.
The instant they were docked, Anakin bolted from the ship, pushing past
the Jedi students who had come out to greet them, running as fast as he
could toward the medical lab. In the turbolift, the worst agony yet ripped
through him so powerfully that he was forced to block himself off from it
before he fainted.
Outside the medical facility he found Mirax, Booster, Valin, Jysella,
and half a dozen other people jittering around. When Anakin burst onto the
scene, all eyes turned toward him.
"Aunt Mara!" he gasped. "What's wrong with Aunt Mara?"
Mirax embraced him. "Mara is fine," she said. "Where in space have you
been? Is Corran with you?"
Anakin brushed off the question. "But the pain . . ." he began.
"It's normal," Mirax replied. "Corran?"
"Corran's fine," Anakin said. "He'll be right here. Mirax, I felt her
dying."
"She was. Now she's not. Somehow, in the Force, she and Luke . . . We
don't know how. But the Yuuzhan Vong disease is gone. Completely."
"Then the pain-"
"Natural. Hideous, overwhelming, but natural. Believe me, I've
experienced it twice."
"You mean . .. ?"
A few moments later the door sighed open. Cilghal stood there, looking
very, very tired.
"You can come in now," she said. "A few at a time, please."
Anakin and Mirax went in first.
Mara still looked sick. Her face was sallow, and sweat sheened her
brow. But she was smiling, her jade eyes filled with an unfamiliar sort of
happiness. Luke knelt at the bedside, holding her hand.
"Luke, Mara," Mirax said. "Look who I've brought."
"Anakin!" Luke said. "You're okay! Are Corran and Tahiri with you?"
"Yeah," Anakin said absently, his attention fixed on the small bundle
in the crook of Mara's arm. He stepped closer.
Small dark eyes glanced vaguely in his direction, passing over him as
if he didn't exist.
"Wow," he breathed.
"Hello, Anakin," Mara said weakly. "I knew you'd be here."
"I thought you were . . . Can I come closer?"
"Sure."
Anakin stared down at the newborn. "Are they all that ugly?" he
blurted.
"You'll want to rephrase that," Mara said, "after what I just went
through. Think in the general direction of antonyms."
"I mean, he's-"
"His name is Ben," Luke said.
"He's beautiful. In the Force, and ... But he's all sort of squinched
and wrinkly."
"Just like you were," Mara said.
"And you're really okay?"
"I've never, ever been better," Mara told him. "Everything is perfect."
She looked down at her child. "Perfect." As weary as it was, her smile had
enough wattage to light all of Coruscant.
FORTY-SEVEN
Nen Yim walked with bowed head through the labyrinthine corridors of
the great ship. Sculpted pylons of ancient but living bone raised the vast
ceilings, and choirs of rainbow qaana hummed hymns to the gods through their
chiti-nous mandibles. Rare paaloc incense-forbidden to all but the highest
of the high-remembered the ancient home-world of the Yuuzhan Vong to the
hindmost recesses of her brain.
Kae Kwaad slunk beside her, strangely subdued.
In the center of the vast chamber, they came to a raised dais of
pulsing, fibrous hau polyps, and atop it, shrouded in darkness and
translucent lamina, reclined an enormous figure. Only his eyes were clearly
visible, glowing maa'it implants that shifted through the colors of the
spectrum. Other than that was only an irregular shadow that sent shivers of
worship aching through her body. For a terrible moment she believed she had
been brought into the very presence of Yun-Yuuzhan himself.
Kae Kwaad prostrated himself. "I have brought her, Dread Shimrra."
The eyes burned into her, but it was long, tremulous heartbeats before
the figure spoke.
"Would you look upon me, Adept?" he said, his whispered voice surely as
majestic and terrible as that of the god he resembled. "Would you look upon
me and die?"
Nen Yim supplicated. "I would if you wish it, Dread Lord."
"You are a heretic, Nen Yim. Bred of heretics."
"I have done what I thought I must for the Yuuzhan Vong. I am prepared
to die for my transgressions."
Shimrra made a noise, then-a rustling, vaporous noise that she only
gradually recognized as laughter.
"You have seen the eighth cortex."
"I have gazed within it, Lord."
"And what did you see there? Speak."
"I saw . . . the end. The end of the protocols. The end of the secrets.
Besides those few marvels the gods have gifted us with since our arri
val at
the infidel galaxy, the store of our knowledge is nearly exhausted."
"So it is," Shimrra acknowledged. "You alone of all shapers know this."
Something that was not a natural hand gestured at Kae Kwaad from the
shadows. "Onimi. Reveal yourself."
"Yes, Dread Lord." Kae Kwaad-no, Onimi-capered, then. With a twist, the
dead shaper hands dropped from his wrists, revealing ordinary Yuuzhan Vong
digits. He stripped off the masquer that hid his face, and bile rose in Nen
Yim's throat at what she saw there.
The man she had thought a master shaper was deformed. Not scarred or
modified as sacrifice to the gods, but misshapen as one born cursed by them.
One eye lolled lower on his face than the other, and part of his skull was
oddly distended. His mouth was a twisted slash. His long, lean limbs
twitched with a sort of mad delight.
"Onimi is my jester," Shimrra murmured. "He amuses me. Sometimes he is
useful. I sent him to watch you and fetch you."
"You see, my sweet Nen Tsup?" Onimi crowed. "You see?"
But Nen Yim did not see. She did not see at all.
"Silence, Onimi. Prostrate yourself and be silent."
The jester flattened himself against the coral deck and whimpered like
a fearful beast.
"Yun-Yuuzhan shaped the universe from his own body," Shimrra intoned,
his voice now modulated like a sacred chant. "In the days following his
great shaping, he was weak, and in that time Yun-Harla tricked him into
giving
her some of those secrets. These she passed to her handmaiden,
Yun-Ne'Shel, and thence to me. I am the gateway of that knowledge. But
Yun-Yuuzhan never gave up all of his secrets. Many he still holds for us,
free of Yun-Harla's deceptions. They await us. I have seen it in a vision."
"I still do not understand, Dread Lord. The eighth cortex-"
"Silence!" The voice raised suddenly to a mind-numbing rumble, and Nen
Yim found herself as prostrate as Onimi. She prepared herself for death.
But surprisingly, when he resumed, Shimrra's voice was again mild. "In
my vision, Nen Yim, you were raised to the rank of master. In my vision, you
quested for the knowledge that Yun-Yuuzhan holds out. He offers it, but he
demands sacrifice and labor to obtain it. He requires that you pursue your
heresy."
Nen Yim, afraid to speak, lay quiet, slowly understanding that she was