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