Rebirth: Edge of Victory II
Page 1
A Del Rey® Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2001 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ™.
All rights reserved. Used under authorization.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-79572-4
v3.1
For Gina Matthiesen
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!
Contents
Cover
Other Books in This Series
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgment
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Part One: Threshold
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Part Two: Passage
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Part Three: Descent
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Part Four: Rebirth
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books by This Author
Introduction to the Star Wars Expanded Universe
Excerpt from Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Star by Star
Introduction to the Old Republic Era
Introduction to the Rise of the Empire Era
Introduction to the Rebellion Era
Introduction to the New Republic Era
Introduction to the New Jedi Order Era
Introduction to the Legacy Era
Star Wars Novels Timeline
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 mycoluminescent 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?”
&nbs
p; “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 crèche-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 crèche-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 ONE
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 y
ou 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.”