Star Wars The New Jedi Order - The Final Prophecy - Book 19

Home > Other > Star Wars The New Jedi Order - The Final Prophecy - Book 19 > Page 28
Star Wars The New Jedi Order - The Final Prophecy - Book 19 Page 28

by Greg Keyes


  Nom Anor was standing on the bridge of the transport vessel Red Qurang,

  watching the planet recede with a grim smile of satisfaction. Jade Shadow had

  broken off her pursuit.

  "A large infidel ship is approaching," one of the subal-terns growled.

  "It's the Imperial frigate I mentioned to Shimrra," Nom Anor said. "You

  were supposed to occupy it with your other ships."

  "There are no other ships," Ushk Choka growled. "Lord Shimrra had need of

  them elsewhere." He grimaced at the sight of the approaching ship. "It's too

  large to engage," he said. "Can we outrun it?"

  "We will have to bear its first assault," the subaltern said. "After that

  we can outrun. Its mass will prevent it changing its vector quickly enough to

  catch us before we burrow into darkspace."

  "Can we withstand?" Ushk Choka asked.

  "Possibly," the subaltern said dubiously.

  "Maneuver evasively, then."

  Nom Anor was still watching the planet, feeling oddly calm, despite the

  danger he was in. He could still see where the hyperwave guides were by jthe

  boiling cloud, and as he watched, a brilliant blue cone suddenly appeared,

  then just as quickly vanished.

  Something was wrong. The core was supposed to ex-plode, not fire the

  engines. Had he failed? Was there some-thing about Nen Yim's protocol he

  hadn't understood, or had he underestimated Sekot? Perhaps Skywalker and the

  other Jedi had managed to somehow reverse the damage he had caused.

  The view swung away from the planet and was replaced by the night of

  space and a white wedge of abomination. It seemed Choka meant to run right

  into the warship's for-ward batteries.

  "Keep our present course," Choka said. "Secure for bombardment."

  "Entering range," the subaltern muttered.

  The ship began rocking from the frigate's guns, but Nom Anor ignored them

  and stumbled his way back to the mica-like rear viewport analog, where Zonama

  Sekot was still visible.

  Behind him, Choka and the pilot snarled at each other. Something

  exploded, and a haze of acrid smoke filled the air. Nom Anor dug his fingers

  into the spongy edge of the bulkhead, still unable to look away from the

  planet below. The planet of his prophecy.

  Not one, but three blue cones stabbed up through the at-mosphere. It was

  a beautiful sight.

  An earsplitting detonation snapped his face against the mica. He tumbled

  to the deck, black spots swimming before his eyes, but with grim persistence

  he dragged himself back up, noticing as he did that everything had gone eerily

  silent, though the ship still shivered beneath the Imperial frigate's attack.

  For a foolish instant he thought perhaps the ship had lost its atmosphere and

  he was in vacuum, but then he would be dead, wouldn't he?

  He wiped blood from his eyes, realizing his forehead was cut, and gazed

  back out the viewport, just in time to see that they had made their run past

  the Imperial ship. Its drive sec-tion was just coming into view. It eclipsed

  his view of the planet as it began a ponderous turn, trying to come after

  them. It was still firing at them from its rear tower. Nom Anor noticed that

  Red Qurang was trailing a cloud of vaporized coral.

  "We can stand no more of this," the subaltern said. "An-other strike,

  and..."

  Suddenly all the stars fell toward Zonama Sekot. The frigate quivered and

  twisted, stretched into a streak of light, and vanished with the stars. Nom

  Anor snarled, braced himself...

  And the stars were back. In the distance, the orange gas giant rotated as

  always. Where Zonama Sekot had been was only empty space.

  Not what I expected, Nom Anor thought as his body went light from relief.

  Not what I expected, but it will serve.

  Still, for long moments he gazed at where the planet had been, blinking

  away the blood even though there was nothing to see.

  He willed his muscles to relax. The truly dangerous part of his journey

  was yet to come. Ushk Choka and his men were surely doomed. Shimrra would

  probably execute them the instant they landed. Nom Anor would live longer, at

  least until he had told the Supreme Overlord everything he knew. Then the true

  test of his gamble would come. Would he join Choka and his crew in feeding the

  gods, or would he be forgiven and perhaps even elevated?

  Only time would tell. But the risk was worth it. One way or another, he

  was at last going back where he belonged.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  The hull-breach claxon blared as Mon Mothma closed with the pursuing

  Yuuzhan Vong fleet.

  "Deck Twenty-four, sir," Cel reported. "Contained. The damage is minimal.

  "

  "Get those deflectors back up," Wedge ordered. "Divert power from

  starboard, if necessary."

  Mon Mothma ran port broadside to the approaching vessels, lasers and ion

  cannons thrumming in a steady rhythm, missiles and mines ejecting as rapidly

  as the ship's weapons systems allowed. Wedge knew he couldn't keep that up for

  long, but he wasn't worried about depleting the power core or running out of

  ammunition-they would be overwhelmed by the enemy long before that happened.

  In the meantime, however, his desperate maneuver was causing the lead capital

  ships to either slow or veer onto lengthier vectors-not so much from fear of

  the Mothma's firepower as to avoid collision. That wasn't true of the entire

  advancing line, of course-the ships on the wings had simply gone around him.

  Those weren't the ones he was worried about; his central preoccupation was

  with tying up the cluster of the four ships flying point, because if they were

  slowed sig-nificantly, the second Interdictor would have to set a parabolic

  and hence longer, slower course to reach the rest of the Alliance ships. That

  would give the battle station that much more time to incapacitate the

  outsystem gravity-well generator and his fleet that much more of an

  opportunity to jump out of this thoroughly botched affair. And, to his

  surprise, it was working.

  The Yuuzhan Vong had been strange throughout this whole battle-tentative.

  The sudden appearance of t he Golan II seemed to have made them more so. Even

  approaching his lone Star Destroyer, the Vong seemed almost cautious. It was

  almost laughable-Ebaq Nine must have really shaken them up if they thought the

  string of mishaps that constituted the Bilbringi offensive might actually be

  the setup for some ingenious trap.

  Come to think of it, that might be why they were try-ing to stay

  relatively clear of Mon Mothma. Maybe they expected...

  He blinked. It might work.

  "Commander Raech," he said.

  "General," Mon Mothma's commander said.

  "Evacuate the sectors adjacent to the power core and reduce the core

  shielding efficiency by two percent every thirty seconds."

  "Reduce the efficiency, General?"

  "That's correct," Wedge replied.

  "Very well," Raech said.

  "Give me reports on that as it develops, Lieutenant Cel."

  "Yes, sir," the lieutenant said, clearly as puzzled as the commander.

  Wedge turned his attention back to the battle. The largest of the ships

  had rolled up above his horiz
on and was pound-ing their upper shields from

  medium range, while a smaller frigate analog was coming in from below.

  Wedge ordered a change in heading. Groaning, the ship turned its nose

  toward the Dreadnaught and the three cruisers behind it.

  Mon Mothma was now under fire from an entire hemisphere.

  "Forward deflectors failing, sir."

  "Steady," Wedge said. "Hold this course."

  The pockmarked surface of the Dreadnaught grew nearer, resembling a badly

  scarred moon. The lights on the bridge went out, suddenly, and stayed out.

  "Power core shielding down fifteen percent, sir," Cel said. "Sir, the

  surrounding decks are reporting contamination."

  "Continue as ordered," Wedge said.

  And hope the Yuuzhan Vong don't revert suddenly to form.

  The interdictor cracked at its central seam and bled plasma in a white-

  hot fountain of lead. Spinning from the reaction, it rolled like some bizarre

  child's firework and then split, light flashing inside it like lightning in a

  dark thunderhead.

  Jaina, still bound in stun cuffs, felt like cheering. So did some of

  Prann's people, apparently, because they actually did.

  Prann wasn't one of them. "Status?" he snapped.

  The Barabel at system ops looked over. "We've sustained major damage to

  the southwestern deflector grid. Other than that, we're in pretty good shape."

  "Good."

  He looked over his shoulder at Jaina, his eyes smoldering, then finished

  the turn and took a few steps toward her.

  "Well, Jedi," he said. "You got your wish. Now I get mine." He pulled the

  blaster out and pointed it at her head.

  "Hey, wait, Prann," one of the humans said. "None of us signed on for

  murder, especially the murder of a Jedi. The station is still in good shape,

  we're no longer interdicted-let's just blast jets out of here, stick to the

  original plan."

  "Unh-unh," Prann snarled. "Nobody gets inside my mind like that. It ain't

  right. And if we try to jump, she'll just do it again, drop us by the other

  interdictor. Once she's dead, then we jump."

  "Just let me stun her," Vel said. "She can't do anything then."

  "No, not until she wakes up. Then who knows what kind of mind tricks

  she'll pull? Better this way."

  Jaina watched the muzzle of the weapon calmly. "Right now you guys look

  like heroes," she said. "Nobody knows you weren't planning to help. Nobody has

  to. Kill me, and all that changes."

  "Hey, she's right," the Rodian-Jith-said.

  "No, don't be a fool," Prann said. "We've got all those other pilots on

  board. Somebody will talk."

  "Good point," Jaina said. "Are you going to kill them, too?"

  "Prann, come on," Vel pleaded.

  "I'd take his advice," an infinitely more familiar voice said, from

  behind her.

  Prann jerked the gun up and fired as Jaina whipped her head around. She

  was in time to see a large, furry mass intersect the bolt with a blazing

  bronze lightsaber and send it whining into the bulkhead, missing its intended

  target-her father.

  Lowbacca-the furry mass-growled and leapt toward

  Prann, followed closely by Alema Rar, whose lightsaber was also blazing.

  Then the air was suddenly full of blaster fire. Lowbacca slashed through

  Prann's weapon and then knocked him to the ground with an elbow strike; Rar

  leapt straight at the bridge crew. Her mother and father were suddenly in

  front of her, Leia blocking any shots coming their way and Han taking careful

  aim so as not to damage the consoles.

  It didn't take long for Prann's people to give up in the face of the

  furious and unexpected attack. Within a few moments they were all disarmed.

  Jaina let her breath out in a long sigh. "Hi, Dad, hi Mom. I was

  wondering how long you were going to take."

  Prann was picking himself up off the floor, rubbing his jaw.

  "We stopped to pick up reinforcements," Han told her, indicating Alema

  Rar and the rest of Twin Suns.

  Leia moved to stand next to her. "Are you okay?" she asked, putting her

  hand on Jaina's shoulder.

  "Never better," Jaina said.

  Her dad was staring Prann down.

  "Look, Solo," Prann said, most of his bluster suddenly gone. "I don't

  want any trouble from you."

  "You were holding a blaster on my daughter. What do you expect from me, a

  kiss and flowers?"

  "Oh-yeah." Prann muttered, almost as if to himself. "I was just-angry,

  you know. I wouldn't have really done anything."

  "The rest of you," Han shouted. "I want you back at your posts, because

  this crate isn't going anywhere until every last Alliance ship has made it

  out, understand?"

  The crew complied immediately, and the Twins went around collecting the

  discarded weapons.

  "This is our station," Prann said. "We earned it."

  "Hey," Han said, "what's your name?"

  "Erli Prann."

  "Erli Prann. Can't say as I've ever heard of you. But Prann?"

  "Yeah?"

  Her father's fist suddenly lashed out, cracking the butt of his blaster

  against the side of Prann's head. Prann dropped as if Han had used the

  business end of the weapon.

  "If you ever touch my daughter again, I'll kill you," he said.

  When he looked up, Prann's crew was staring at him.

  "Well?" he thundered. "Don't you all have something to do?"

  They jumped back to their tasks as if they'd been working for Han Solo

  all their lives. The lasers and ion cannons started firing once more, covering

  the Alliance fleet as it gathered speed for hyperspace.

  "And somebody get me the code to these stun cuffs!" he demanded.

  The Dreadnaught was suddenly receding instead of getting closer. So were

  the other capital ships.

  "Well, look at that," Wedge said. "It worked."

  "They think we're overloading our core, don't they, sir?" Cel asked.

  "Yes, Lieutenant, exactly," Wedge replied. "But they won't buy it for

  long."

  He turned to the pilots. "Hard about. Point us toward that space

  platform. And get the shielding efficiency back up in the power core."

  "Sir, the interdictor is down," Cel noted.

  "Brilliant. Control, order all ships to lightspeed." The Yuuzhan Vong

  shook off their uncertainty pretty quickly when they saw the Mothma's drive

  turn their way. They gave chase like a pack of voxyn.

  Up ahead of him, he had the satisfaction of seeing the rest of his ships

  vanish into starlight.

  "We can ramp up to lightspeed ourselves, General," the Mothma's commander

  said. "Shall I give the order?"

  Wedge's lips pinched in. Jaina and everyone else on the battle station

  were doomed if they left now. Not a good re-ward for what they had done, but

  if he attempted an evacuation, the crew of Mon Mothma might join them.

  He sighed. "Prepare..."

  "Sir, I've got an incoming message-priority one, from Millennium Falcon."

  "Put it on."

  A few seconds later, Leia Organa Solo spoke over the channel.

  "Wedge," she said, "can the Mothma make the jump?"

  "Yes. Where are you?"

  "In the docking bay of the Golan Two. Wedge, I'll ex-plain later, but

  we're okay here. W
e'll cover you on your way out."

  "That's good enough for me," he said. "Commander, take us out of here."

  So long, Bilbringi, he thought. If I never see you again, that'll still

  be two times too many.

  "It was easy enough slipping into a berth, after we lost the skips," Han

  explained. "What with all the shooting going on, I guess nobody was watching

  the dock."

  Jaina, her mother and father, and Wedge Antilles were sitting around a

  table in the refectory of the Alliance-commandeered Golan II Battle Station,

  currently occupying an orbit in an uninhabited system with what remained of

  Wedge's ships and Admiral Gilad Pellaeon's fleet. A few Yuuzhan Vong ships had

  followed their vector on the jump, and had paid dearly for it.

  Now they were awaiting orders on how and where to disperse to. Prann's

  people were in custody, waiting to be charged, and the near-system lookouts

  hadn't spotted any-thing that looked like an imminent Yuuzhan Vong attack. The

  combined fleet remained on high alert, but there was time for a little

  relaxation.

  Wedge poured another round of Corellian brandy.

  "If this station had lips," Wedge said, "I'd kiss it. Since it doesn't-

  Colonel Solo, I'll drink your health instead."

  "Hear, hear," Leia said, and they all raised glasses.

  "We really have Prann and his people to thank, in a way," Jaina said,

  after the toast was over. "I mean, it's not like they intended to help, but if

  it weren't for them..."

  "Yes, if it weren't for them we would have all died," Wedge said. "Even

  as it is, we lost way too much here. Pash Cracken, Judder Page..." He shook

  his head. "Old friends, young people I never knew."

  He looked up at them, and to Jaina he seemed suddenly old. "You'd think I

  would be used to it by now."

  "You don't get used to it," Han said.

  From the corner of her eye, Jaina saw a flash of uniform, then an aging

  human face with an iron-gray mustache. She came quickly to attention.

  "Grand Admiral Pellaeon, sir," she said, saluting. The others at the

  table came to their feet more slowly, Han slowest of all.

  "Please," Pellaeon said. "At ease, Colonel Solo. After what you've been

  through, you deserve a rest."

  He turned to Wedge and saluted stiffly. "General Antilles, I've come to

 

‹ Prev