Balance Point

by Kathy Tyers

  “Ask her if it’d help if we keep the landing party looking up, instead of searching for her.”

  While she waited, another voice gargled out of her comm unit. “All forces, this is Admiral Wuht. You have been ordered to disengage and withdraw. Noncompliance will result in immediate disciplinary action.”

  She’d set her transceiver to listen broadband, even though she was transmitting only on private frequency. That order confirmed what Duros squadron leaders had been calling.

  “They’re out of their minds,” she growled.

  “No,” Luke came back. “I mean, yes, you’re right. But Leia wants us to hold back a little longer. She thinks she’s got a better chance of getting her refugees away if the Yuuzhan Vong don’t know we’re still hanging around.”

  “All that through the Force, Luke?” she challenged him. “Not with words, exactly. I’m interpreting a little.”

  “Still sounds reasonable.”

  Their furball with the coralskippers had set her on a vector toward Orr-Om. The monstrous Yuuzhan Vong creature had attached itself to one docking area. As Mara watched, it appeared to break off another vast hunk of superstructure with its wedge-shaped head. It shook that vigorously, let go, and then darted back and forth, gobbling up whatever it had flung into space.

  She keyed her sensors for a tight-beam view. “Looks like the creature’s got some kind of pouch clinging to its dorsal area,” she said. “Maybe life-support, over a blowhole.”

  “All forces,” the static-charged voice repeated, “stand down. We have been threatened with a second strike if we do not disengage.”

  “Stang,” Mara whispered.

  Luke murmured back, “Wuht swallowed it—the threat of further attack, the promise that they only want the planet. He’s going to settle for a stalemate. I’m reading a deactivation order on everything that gets docked.”

  Mara felt her eyes widen. Full deactivation would drain off the ships’ power and send their pilots and even their crews home. “They’re not even going to try to help Gateway evacuate, and now our people are prisoners down there.” She pushed the Shadow’s sharp nose back down.

  Then she changed her mind. Gateway’s fragile dome protected several thousand refugees from corrosive atmosphere, and she’d seen the invaders’ biotechnical breathing apparatuses. One ill-planned attack—even by three Jedi, coordinating their strike through the Force—and the refugees would suffer, while their captors were only inconvenienced.

  She’d had a run of unbreakable situations lately! She’d never been so frustrated.

  And …

  “They’ve got their beachhead,” Luke echoed her thoughts, “but that’s the low ground. We’re still holding the height.”

  “Which makes sense,” Mara pointed out, “only if they think they’ve got an even better vantage.”

  “If they’ve got more ships coming in.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Leia’d better hurry.” His words, her thoughts. “Maybe Hamner will get us reinforcements here in time.”

  “Luke,” she muttered, “with Fey’lya in charge, it could take another week.”

  On her heads-up display, one dark-blue blip slowly shrank in the distance. It had been one of Leia’s freighters, loaded with refugees. Her scanners showed six breaches along its port side. It spun slowly as atmosphere and debris vented into space.

  Leia would need the Duros’ full support, the moment she got her other evac ships loaded, and before the Yuuzhan Vong’s second force arrived. Before their groundside force figured out what Leia was up to, and smashed the last evac ships.

  Mara wondered if she could talk sense into Admiral Darez Wuht. If she didn’t feel any duplicity in him, she could tell him—quietly, without tipping off the traitors!—that he had reinforcements on the way.

  If she docked the Shadow, though, she ran the risk that some bantha-brained idiot would power it down.

  In the distance, Anakin picked off a second coralskipper as the convoy accelerated toward hyperspace.

  “X-wing, stand down,” Mara’s comm unit growled.

  She slapped it off.

  Luke came alongside her, setting a slow arc toward Bburru. “CorDuro and the Peace Brigade have Wuht in a tight spot.”

  “Wuht can’t honestly believe they only want the planet, can he? Either he’s a traitor, too, or … well, somebody’s got to get that stand-down canceled. I’ll try, on Jaina’s behalf. She said he’d shown her some sympathy. But I don’t want to get marooned.”

  “I could dock in your hold again.”

  “Then stay aboard, in-dock?” Mara asked. “Take off if you have to, come back to fly cover for me if you can?”

  “I don’t like that much, either.” But they had to do something.

  “I’ll talk to him,” she decided. “If they feel threatened by Jedi, you’re the ultimate threat. But I’ll tell him not to give up. That reinforcements are coming.”

  “We haven’t heard back from Hamner.”

  “So we don’t know if he’s been turned down,” she pointed out.

  She vectored away from Bburru, putting the widest possible angle between any hostile eyes and her Shadow. They didn’t know she could carry an X-wing, and she wanted to keep that little secret.

  Luke tight-docked the fighter, off-loaded R2-D2, then made his way to the triangular cockpit. By then, she had Bburru on visual.

  “Port Duggan,” she transmitted, “request permission to dock.”

  “Any further discussion?” Borsk Fey’lya’s violet eyes shone vindictively. No one else at the table spoke. “Your vote, then.”

  Kenth Hamner remained at attention, but he had less hope than ever. Senator Shesh of Kuat had spoken persuasively, regretfully, citing excellent reasons not to pull a single fighter off any of the other shipyard systems. Councilor Pwoe of Mon Calamari reminded the council that others, notably the Hutt Randa Besadii Diori, had recently called in false alerts from Duro.

  As he feared, the vote went against him.

  He kept his shoulders at a dignified brace. “I will notify Master Skywalker,” he said, “but you’d better remember this day, all of you. If Coruscant falls to Yuuzhan Vong forces based on Duro, you will regret this decision.”

  He pivoted on one heel and left the chamber.

  “This way,” Jacen shouted.

  “Get to the admin building,” Leia called behind him.

  He shouted back over his shoulder, “No! Dad’s got a tunnel started.”

  Jaina pounded along beside him. Evening had fallen, but the overhead lamps stayed on—probably an emergency measure. Leia followed with Olmahk and several others, up a lane in the deserted Tayana district. As they approached the tallest ruin, Jacen glanced back. Dark figures swarmed in through the main gate.

  “This way.” Jacen led to the far side of the rubble pile.

  Inside the tumbledown building, Droma’s furry, mustachioed face peered out, his blue and red cap still perched at a rakish angle. He waved a bristly arm. Jacen dashed forward, glad that Droma had held out until the quarantine was canceled. His next thought: He hoped all that shaving and isolation really had been pointless, and that no one would carry the white-eyes offplanet on an evacuation ship.

  At the rubble pile’s edge, Jaina tripped and went down, scraping her hands and knees. Jacen helped her back to her feet.

  “I’m all right,” she insisted. She scrambled inside.

  Jacen stood in the roofless entry, momentarily at a loss.

  Then he heard scrambling and puffing noises from his left. He spun in that direction, following Jaina, who’d heard them first.

  Two fallen duracrete slabs lay on the floor. He saw a gap between them, wide enough to squeeze through. The scrambling sounds were coming from down there.

  “Jacen,” his mother’s voice called. “Jaina?”

  “Coming.” Jaina dropped to hands and knees beside the gap, slipped in feetfirst, then vanished.

  Jacen followed, dropping into darknes
s. He almost pitched forward, but someone caught him.

  “Thanks,” he puffed.

  His mom’s voice answered. “Go. Hurry.”

  Jaina shuffled forward. He imitated her gait to keep from tripping on fallen stones. The passage dropped steadily, toward a dim glow on rough-cut rock.

  Jaina rounded the corner first. Jacen followed. He thought he heard Leia behind them.

  In a sizable room at the T junction of two tunnels twenty Ryn huddled. Some wore blue SELCORE flight suits under their culottes and vests, their faces almost humorously stubble-covered. A pair of glow lamps threw faint shadows on the rocky walls. Up the right branch, he heard muffled voices and saw a longer lineup of faces—many shapes, shades, and sizes—disappearing in a dark distance.

  The digging noises came from up the T’s other branch. At the junction, Han stood next to another Ryn in SELCORE blue draped with culottes.

  “Romany?” Jacen murmured, not quite sure.

  “Hey, baldy.” Yep. Romany’s voice.

  Han stepped to Leia’s side. The flap of his battered leather helmet dangled alongside his chin. “End of the line, for the moment.”

  Leia pulled away, glowering at Jacen. “There’s a tunnel punched through to the old mines, from the admin building—”

  Han raised a hand. “This one’s almost through, and the Vong are more likely headed there. I’m in charge of this group. They’ve been running chewers down here day and night. Only about four meters to go, but if we run machinery now, we’ll bring sacrifice hunters down on our heads.”

  Leia glanced up the tunnel. “Yes, but we were using the mining laser. It’s on a repulsorsled. And I’ve got a GOCU transmitter set up over there, patched through to a surface antenna. We could’ve transmitted out, over there.”

  So that was why she’d kept it guarded. “Want me to go back for the laser?” Jacen offered.

  “No,” said Leia—and Han.

  “Now it’s pick work.” Han jerked his head up the left branch. “We’re taking shifts. We’ll be through in an hour, maybe two.”

  She sank onto a rock pile. “I can’t sit and wait that long,” she muttered. “Did you hear, Han? They got the crawlers. All three.”

  “I heard.” Han looked away. Jacen thought he’d seen a furry ghost peer out through his eyes.

  “But Luke and Mara are topside,” Leia reported, “with Anakin. They’ll give us an escort outsystem if we can get these people to ships. And I need someone on that GOCU link.”

  Jacen nodded. Along one wall of this stone chamber, the Ryn had piled water containers and crates labeled TRAVEL BISCUITS. Among the refugees—mostly shaved, but some as hairy as ever—he spotted two human families. A huddle of Vors, too. As usual, the mothers held their children close, away from the Ryn—but this time, they’d trusted the Ryn with their lives.

  Abruptly he missed someone. “Where’s Randa?”

  “He didn’t follow us?” Leia asked. “Frankly, I wasn’t watching him. Basbakhan will keep an eye on him.”

  “I don’t even care,” Jaina said, and no one contradicted her.

  Jacen edged toward Han and Droma, who were talking with Mezza.

  “From the other end,” Mezza said, “we’ve traced a route to the SELCORE ship lot. The minute we break through this rock, there are people on the other end who can get us to a transport, thanks to Leia’s map.”

  “Map?” Jacen asked.

  “Of the mines. From the Duros’ archives.” Leia raised a datapad. “Listen, Han. Out below the bluffs, just out of the marshy area, we did some camouflaging ourselves, weeks ago. We’ve still got one of the five big haulers that brought in almost everything for our original building site. It’s ungainly, but it made hyperspace getting here. It’d hold about two thousand, according to my figures.”

  Han sat down on the floor beside her. “What’s wrong with it? Why didn’t SELCORE take it back? Why didn’t it take off already?”

  Jacen watched his mom squint, frown, and shake her head. “I don’t remember. I’m sorry. Threepio would know.”

  “He’s on the Falcon,” Han said.

  “Can we comlink him?”

  “You can try,” Han said, “but I’ve got him running preflight. I’ll check out the hauler. What did you do, bury it?”

  Leia nodded. “Piled harvest debris on top. Our scanners would find it in a heartbeat, but the Yuuzhan Vong might not have thought to look down there by the bluffs. And we know they don’t have the technology.”

  “They’ve got technology, sweetheart. They just build it in different ways.”

  “Maybe,” she said with exaggerated patience, “they won’t have found it yet. I don’t know. But it’d be a lot faster to get there aboveground than by following this.” She brandished her datapad map of the mines.

  “Skulking! Our specialty,” Droma put in.

  Han broke a lopsided smile. “Not to mention ship repair. Okay, Mezza—Romany. Droma and I are going to go check out a hauler. As soon as the pick people break through, start people moving through the mines toward the bluffs, and station someone at Leia’s transmitter—but watch those side tunnels.”

  “Right,” Jaina put in. “Nom Anor could still be down here. And if he is, he could Greenie-trap more ceilings.”

  A few refugees stared up at the stone overhead.

  All expression faded from Leia’s face. “A couple more hours, you said, till they’re through?”

  Mezza nodded.

  Leia stood up and brushed rock dust from the seat of her SELCORE coveralls. “Almost midnight,” she said. “There’s some time.”

  “For what?” Han demanded. “Hey, Leia. Stay right here. I just found you. I want to find you again, when I get back.”

  Leia compressed her lips. “Thanks,” she said. “Really, Han. Thank you—but you’re right. You’re in charge of this group, and I left something important over at admin.”

  Han scowled.

  Nom Anor led Tsavong Lah toward the laboratory built-thing, taking such obvious pleasure in walking unmasked that the warmaster briefly wondered what it would be like to live most of his life in an infidel’s guise, and pitied him.

  They strode up the sandy main road between hideously ugly constructs, past a three-sided built-thing filled with monstrous machinery. Sgauru and Tu-Scart, the huge Beater and Biter creatures he’d ordered released, attacked the nearest wall. This symbiotic pair could destroy artificial constructs within minutes. As soon as his own energy-creating creatures nested down and started to feed, he would put Tu-Scart and Sgauru to work on whatever abomination the infidels used to fuel the overhead lamps.

  Tsavong Lah turned to an aide. “Dig the pit here,” he ordered.

  A contingent of warrior escorts fell out of the group.

  Near the dome’s north edge, Nom Anor led him into a construct shaped like one of their ugly bricks. In the main hall, he heard sloshing and clanking noises.

  “My coworkers,” Nom Anor said proudly. “When I unmasked, I told them that those whom you found at work, helping remove poisons from the planet, would be specially honored.”

  “All accepted?”

  Nom Anor blinked his genuine eye. “Two refused to work any further,” he admitted. “Even when I offered them full honor, and … amnesty.”

  “Amnesty.” The tizowyrm in Tsavong Lah’s ear didn’t translate anything he could comprehend. “What is this?”

  Anor smiled. “A word like peace, with two meanings. They define it in a way we do not. Something like … mercy.”

  The tizowyrm didn’t translate that, either. “Explain mercy.”

  Nom Anor paused at the entry to a room built around a long table. Tsavong Lah saw two infidels seated inside, wearing spotted white gowns.

  “To the infidels,” Nom Anor answered, “it seems generous to let them escape destiny.”

  “It is not possible to escape destiny. Death is inevitable. How it is faced … that is all-important.”

  “Incredible though that ma
y seem, they do not understand.”

  Tsavong Lah shook his head. “Then we will give your coworkers better than they deserve, as thanks for their tireless efforts.”

  “You speak my thoughts,” Nom Anor said.

  “Perhaps some will volunteer to assist with our research?” There were never enough volunteers for that noble work, but his staff had brought the requisite planters and coral seeds.

  “I offered that option. Sadly, all declined. Perhaps having directed research makes them reluctant to contribute as participants.”

  Tsavong Lah shrugged. “Then we shall consecrate this built-thing for your future use.” He turned to his black-robed priestess. “Vaecta?”

  The hunched, older woman had followed them, leading her ritual musicians. She stepped forward, carrying a translucent bivalve shell against her robes.

  Tsavong Lah reached inside, wriggling his fingers, calling one of the tkun creatures to his hand. He felt the delicate touch of a furless nose, then the warmth of furry coils wrapping around his wrist.

  He drew out his arm with the crimson tkun coiled around it. Master shapers had recently created the species, responding to the need for quick, efficient—but spiritually significant—individual sacrifices.

  From another aide, the priestess took a wad of tishwii leaves. She arranged them in a water basin, then held a flint spark against them and dropped them into the basin to smolder.

  “Bring the first researcher,” Tsavong Lah said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Han wrapped an arm around Leia’s shoulders and pulled her close, momentarily resting his chin on her white turban. “Take care of yourself, then.”

  “You, too.”

  Jacen’s parents kissed each other—barely a peck at first, and then Han leaned into it. Leia went up on her tiptoes. Jacen lowered his eyes, caught Jaina’s glance, and half smiled.

  She nodded.

  But Han’s expression was grim as he and Droma headed back up the entry. Jacen watched until they disappeared. His memory fled back to Belkadan and a marsh full of villips, and he wondered what the Yuuzhan Vong would do with the Thirty-two reclamation project. Maybe they had creatures who could live in poisoned water.