Force Exile VI: Prodigal/Part 9

19
“Prepare for hyperspace,” Zeyn announced. Danni nodded from the seat across from him in the bridge. Behind and above them, a bulbous organic Yuuzhan Vong craft loomed over their ship, an antiquated XS-800 light freighter that Zeyn had traded in their absconded Skipray Blastboat for en route from Zonama Sekot. It was a roomier ship, albeit less well-armed and not as swift, but it also had one other advantage: its comm systems and hyperdrive were not transmitting information to Ariada. In appearance, the ship resembled the more famous CR90 corvette compressed down to a mere 30 meters length. The ship itself was not that impressive, but it had been cheap enough and Zeyn had confirmed it was reliable enough for their purposes. The long trip from Zonama Sekot back to Yanibar had allowed Zeyn to rest and recover from his wounds. The prolonged voyage had also afforded ample opportunities for him to talk with Danni over a plethora of subjects—their families, their interests, places and people on Yanibar, and their pasts. Now, though, as they made their final approach, Zeyn cleared his mind. Turning to Danni, he gave her one last instruction before they jumped to hyperspace. “Call up Niull Shac, remind him to wait for us here,” he said. “The Yanibar Guard will have a hard enough time accepting a cold approach from a non-secure ship, but if I show up unannounced with a Vong ship in tow, they’ll blast us first and ask questions later.” Danni complied, manipulating the organic villip that had been affixed near the other communications gear. “Niull Shac, stand by,” she told him. “We’re going ahead to the rendezvous point so Zeyn can convince his people to let you in.” The organic representation of Niull Shac’s head that appeared in the villip scowled, adding to the warrior’s already-foreboding visage. “This is another complication—just like you swapping ships was not in the original plan,” the Yuuzhan Vong warrior pointed out. Zeyn rose from his chair, moving to face the villip so he could explain. “And just like swapping the ship, this is necessary,” he said. “There’s a very good reason for me to not bring a Yuuzhan Vong ship straight to Yanibar while I’m travelling unofficially, and it involves avoiding a very quick death by turbolaser.” Niull Shac grimaced. “A fate which could still happen if you betray us, or even fail to convince your comrades,” he remarked. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Zeyn remarked acidly. “Like I’ve trusted you up until now.” “A refreshing concept between our two peoples,” Niull Shac said with a sudden twisted smile. “One I look forward to exploring further. Carry on.” The villip reverted, causing the Yuuzhan Vong’s visage to disappear. “I swear he does that to just get on my nerves,” Zeyn muttered, moving back to his chair and running a final check on the navicomputer. Finding nothing else wrong, he did one more sensor sweep. He would have preferred to check for Yuuzhan Vong creatures attached to his ship in case of a double-cross, but their meager freighter lacked the specialized equipment needed to perform such a trace. He would have to act on faith, a thought which left a distinctly sour taste. However, the concept wasn’t as foreign to him as it had been when he had first arrived on Zonama Sekot what seemed like hundreds of years ago. “Jumping to hyperspace,” he announced, pulling the lever. It was a short jump, only a few minutes, and one that took them to a pocket of deep space that the Yanibar Guard used as a rendezvous point. It was isolated, with the nearest star dozens of light years away, with no reason for anyone ever to journey here. Zeyn knew that there would be little here other than a hidden sensor station—but the eyes of Yanibar would see them. As soon as they reverted, he began broadcasting a short-range transmission across all frequencies. “This is Elite Zeyn Kraen, authentication code Five-Oh-One-Senth-Trill. Situation code is Wild Return Over Unsafe.” He waited for a response, but there was no immediate answer. Dutifully, he continued broadcasting the same message every thirty seconds for several minutes. Finally, Danni grew curious after hearing the same thing repeated verbatim a dozen times. “What does all that mean anyway?” she asked. Zeyn gave her a wry smile. “Military secrets,” he said. “Zeyn,” she persisted. Zeyn repeated his message one more time, then finally relented and gave her a basic explanation. “An authentication code tells them who I am. A situation code tells them under what circumstance I got here.” “So what is a Wild Return Over Unsafe?” Danni asked him. Zeyn frowned. “That is a military secret,” he said. “Can’t say.” Danni started to ask another question, but was forestalled by the sudden flicker of psuedomotion as two ships dropped out of hyperspace in close proximity. Zeyn recognized them as Remembrance-class cruisers, formidable midsize warships. “Receiving transmission,” Danni commented. “Just audio.” “Let’s hear it,” Zeyn said. “Elite Kraen,” a distinctively male voice addressed him. “Is this channel secure?” “Unlikely,” Zeyn answered. “But the people who might be listening in are potential allies. I need to speak with the Council directly.” “Excuse me? That is a violation of—,” “Security protocol, I know,” Zeyn interrupted. “This could have implications for the greater wellbeing for all of our people. I need to speak with somebody in authority, as quickly as possible.” “This is most irregular,” the voice continued. Zeyn sighed. He already knew the Yanibar Guard’s response protocol to such a situation. He also already knew that Elite Guardians had sufficient rank and privilege to bypass such measures if they claimed the situation was appropriately dire. Such as now. The captain of those ships was just trying to stonewall him and avoid showing deference in a potentially dangerous situation to avoid risking the refuge.

“Captain,” Zeyn cut him off again. “You and I already both know that if I’m who I claim to be and if no clear threats are detected, that I have a right to a relayed priority signal. Quit stalling and let me come aboard.” “Of course,” the voice answered in a sullen tone. Several minutes later, Zeyn and Danni had debarked their XS-800 in the forward hangar of one of the cruisers in an isolated ward where it was being checked over by technicians for listening devices or other tracers. A guard of armored marines met them at the ramp and ushered them to a secure conference room near the hangar. Danni took in the sights quietly, and while Zeyn assured her that she would have no trouble, he had advised her to keep silent thus far. Once the conference room had sealed behind them, Zeyn activated the holocomm controls. Soon, an eighth-size hologram shimmered into place atop the rectangular table that dominated the room, but instead of one of the Council members he was familiar with, it was his Aunt Cassi. “Hello, Zeyn,” she told him. “You seem to have got yourself into a situation.” “Yes, ma’am,” he answered slowly. “But I need to speak to the Council.” She gave him an amused smile that quickly turned sad. “I am on the Council now, Zeyn,” she replied. “Do you need me to verify my credentials?” Zeyn flushed red. His aunt had always been very fond of him and had helped raise him after his father had died. He hadn’t meant to imply that she wouldn’t be qualified to sit on the Council. “No,” he answered quickly. “I just didn’t know, I’ve been out of contact for a while.” “Yes,” Cassi’s holo said, glancing down as if looking at something else. “Your situation code says. . .” She looked up. “Why don’t you just explain it to me?” she said. “I’m still learning what all these definitions mean, and it’s quite mystifying to somebody who hasn’t been in the Yanibar Guard for years.” Out of the corner of his eye, Zeyn saw Danni suppressing a smirk and scowled. Cassi saw his eyes track over toward her and turned to see who else was in the room. “I didn’t realize you had company,” she said. “Who’s this?” “Danni Quee,” Zeyn informed her stiffly. “She’s an asset that I rescued from Zonama Sekot after Ariada targeted her.” “And you’re reluctant to reveal the situation code in the presence of an offworlder civilian,” Cassi surmised. “Something like that,” Zeyn muttered. “But you trusted her enough to bring her to a secret rendezvous point and onboard one of our ships?” Cassi questioned him. Zeyn flushed red again. His aunt was doing a good job of making him look ridiculous, and this was not the time or place for it. “Let’s skip the situation code,” he said hurriedly. “Aunt Cassi, Danni had an idea on Zonama Sekot that might help our people with the evacuation. It’s pretty. . . hard to accept as a concept, but I think it might work.” “Should I have Sarth listen in?” Cassi asked. “He’s in the next room.” “Uh, sure,” Zeyn replied. A minute later, a hologram of Sarth appeared alongside Cassi’s. “Uncle Sarth, Aunt Cassi, this is Danni Quee,” Zeyn told them. “Danni, this is Sarth and Cassi Kraen. She’s come to help us after I stopped Ariada’s attempts on her life. I, uh, told her about our predicament and she has a possible solution.” “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sarth spoke up to the scientist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Quee. Your reputation precedes you.” “Please, call me Danni,” she said. “Of course,” Sarth answered. “Did you know that we’re actually related? My mother’s maiden name was Quee—and from what I was able to look up, she was also your great-great aunt.” “Really?” Danni asked. “It’s true,” Sarth said. “And perhaps also a topic better reserved for later,” Cassi interjected diplomatically, seeing Zeyn’s impatience. “Certainly, my apologies,” Sarth said. “Cassi told me that you and Danni have a possible means to aid in the evacuation.” “That’s right,” Zeyn answered, “but it’s going to sound strange.” “At this point, we could use any help we can get,” Sarth told him. Zeyn’s hand fidgeted nervously as he wondered how to actually phrase this now that he was standing in front of his aunt and uncle. Danni sensed his discomfort and bravely filled in for him. “We believe that a group of Yuuzhan Vong could assist in the evacuation effort,” Danni said. “A group of what?” Sarth asked in utter astonishment. “You realize those are the people who caused this problem in the first place.” “I know,” Danni answered evenly. “Zeyn told me.” “So why should we trust or expect help from them?” Sarth inquired suspiciously. “Mr. Kraen, please understand,” Danni said. “If anyone has cause to resent the Yuuzhan Vong, it’s me. I was the only survivor of their attack on Belkadan, the first world they invaded. I was the first person to experience the horrors of Yuuzhan Vong captivity. I spent the next five years of my life running and fighting and inventing ways to stop them. I saw what they did to countless worlds and I lost many good friends along the way. To this day, I don’t know what became of my family.” “So why present us with this idea?” Cassi asked neutrally. “Because at the war’s end, I found myself living on the same planet with them,” Danni told them. “And that’s where I’ve been for the last eight years. They haven’t attacked me. They haven’t tried to shape me. What I’m saying is that at some point, I learned to see them beyond just through the prism of an enemy. They are different from us, yes, but they are not innately destined to hate us. Hatred and cruelty are just as much acquired traits among them as they are among humans. The group that is willing to assist you hopes to put some of the past behind both our peoples.” Sarth and Cassi were silent for a moment. “What are they offering?” “Are you familiar with dovin basals?” Danni asked. “Yes,” Sarth answered. “Unfortunately.” “Zeyn tells me that your evacuation ships are having a hard time lifting off,” Danni said. “The Yuuzhan Vong have offered to provide some of their dovin basals to help your ships reach atmosphere. They have also offered to correct Yorbinal’s orbit to stabilize it.” Sarth and Cassi exchanged glances, considering the matter. “We will have to consult the Council,” Cassi said. “This is not a decision we can make unilaterally.” “Danni, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like a word with Zeyn.” She took the hint and turned to leave. “Just wait outside,” Zeyn murmured to her. “I’ll be right out.” Danni nodded and left and Zeyn watched her go. Once the door had sealed behind her, he returned his attention to his aunt and uncle. “The Yuuzhan Vong are near, aren’t they?” Sarth asked. “Yes,” Zeyn admitted. “One ship, no larger than a medium cruiser. About five parsecs from here.” “Does this offer make any sense to you, Zeyn?” Sarth inquired. “The Yuuzhan Vong did save my life on Zonama Sekot,” Zeyn admitted. “Twice.” “So you believe them?” Cassi asked. He hesitated, then nodded. “I would not have made it this far without their help,” he said. “I wasn’t happy about the idea—or that Danni even told them in the first place—but the more I think about it, the more I think this might be our best chance at a successful evacuation, unless you’ve already figured out those problems.” “Unfortunately, no,” Sarth replied. “The task is quite. . . daunting.” “I understand it’s a lot to consider,” Zeyn told them. “Believe me, I already went through the same concerns and thoughts that you two are right now.” “Did you contemplate that your judgment might be clouded?” Sarth asked. “By what?” Zeyn answered. “Gratitude that they saved me? I understand your point, but I had to trust them, or else I would still be stranded on Zonama Sekot. They proved themselves.” “Fair enough,” Sarth replied, but Cassi wasn’t quite so sure. “And Danni Quee’s influence?” she asked. “It seems she instigated all this. Did she sway you?” Zeyn sighed. “To an extent,” he admitted. “She pointed out that I was being stubborn and narrow-minded regarding the Yuuzhan Vong. She did encourage me to consider their offer.” “Do you believe her judgment sound?” Sarth inquired. “She was one of the New Republic’s leading experts on the Yuuzhan Vong,” Zeyn pointed out. “I would tend to trust her judgment on the Yuuzhan Vong over most.” “And you find her attractive,” Cassi observed. “Does she reciprocate?” “Yes, and yes,” Zeyn confessed. “How serious is this involvement with her?” Sarth asked.

“I offered to let her come with us to Atlaradis if she wished.” Sarth and Cassi were silent again, and Zeyn felt himself growing flustered. “Look, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You think my judgment has been compromised since the mission to Zonama Sekot. I understand—it sounds crazy to me, too. I never thought I’d be bringing a group of Yuuzhan Vong to Yanibar willingly—and certainly not for productive means.” He sighed. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. I can provide the means for you to meet with the Yuuzhan Vong leader if you want, or speak with him remotely. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think they could help,” Zeyn answered. Sarth frowned. “Zeyn, from what I know of Yanibar Guard regulations, you’ve done a number of things that are not exactly approved,” he said. “Under ordinary circumstances, we would simply let your superiors deal with you.” “I accept that,” Zeyn said. “I’ll accept whatever punishment Master Kel’nerh or Master Kraen has for me.” “That won’t be possible,” Cassi informed him sadly. “Morgedh is dead. And Selu and Milya are still hunting for Ariada. Qedai left to join the search about a week ago.” “Dead?” Zeyn asked in surprise. “On Bespin. It was an ambush,” Sarth told him. “Ariada also has Shara, Ryion, and Jaina Solo.” Zeyn’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “I head out to the Unknown Regions for a few weeks and the galaxy decides to go completely sideways?” “As I said, these are no ordinary circumstances,” Sarth said. “The reason why your aunt is head of the council is that one of Ariada’s assassins snuck onto Yanibar and murdered the previous members.” Zeyn sat back, struck speechless by the overwhelming news he was hearing. “I had no idea,” he mumbled. “Now you know the gravity of the situation,” Sarth told him. “And why we have every right to be concerned.” “I understand,” Zeyn said, tight-lipped. “All I ask is that you give the offer due consideration. The Yuuzhan Vong are taking a huge risk by coming here—there was always the possibility that the Yanibar Guard would preemptively strike them, or that we would be ambushed en route. They are willing to do this to forge peace.” “We will consider it,” Cassi promised. “We need to gather some more information and determine how best to present this to the full Council, but we will give this matter our full consideration.” “Thank you,” Zeyn said with relief, bowing slightly out of respect. “It’s good to have you home, Zeyn,” Cassi told him. “I suspect the Yanibar Guard will want to debrief you fully, but from what I can tell, you accomplished your mission.” “It wasn’t easy, but I did. Zonama Sekot and Danni Quee both survived,” Zeyn answered, realizing the conversation was nearing its end. “One more thing, Zeyn,” Sarth added. “Yes?” “From what I can tell of her, you made a good find,” Sarth said. “Treasure her—she seems worth it.” A smile creased Zeyn’s face. “I will.”
 * Daara’sherum

Selu leaned over the large conference table, gazing at the holoprojection hovering in it. He was deep inside the Daara’sherum, in the largest planning room available. The translucent light depicted the detailed layout of a ship. It was a design unfamiliar to Selu, an oblong shape roughly cylindrical with an extension jutting out from its underside near the fore of the ship. Twin engine pods at the stern provided propulsion, while crystalline spikes protruded from its sides and weaponry blisters studded the exteriors. The ship was shown without its skin, revealing the deck plan to the best of their knowledge. This was the ship Ariada had created and had been using to terrorize the galaxy. He shuddered as he considered its name: the Knightfall. The fact that Ariada had the audacity to attack the Jedi Order and Galactic Alliance didn’t surprise him. That she’d been able to do so to this degree of success—that was impressive. Now, though, they would finally strike back. Ryion and Jaina had provided the means to find her, and Novera had supplied the information necessary to understand the layout of her lethal cruiser.

Red vectors traced their way through the holographic ship, depicting the paths the boarding teams would follow. The plan depended on surprise and speed—traditional allies of the Jedi against most opponents. Against someone as cunning as Ariada, Selu was less confident. He looked around him at the remainder of the occupants of the planning room. It was a small group, and they were studying the hologram as intently as he was.

“Well,” Kyle Katarn’s voice cut through the silence. “I think that about does it. It’s not going to get much better than that.”

“Recap the plan for us, please,” Selu asked Milya, who was standing off in the corner.

She nodded curtly.

“The operation will be a multi-pronged boarding action. Master Kraen will facilitate a covert approach to the Knightfall via the Hawk-bat. Upon attachment, we will detonate an ion charge to temporarily overload its systems and breach, at which point we will split up. Team One consists of Jedi Katarn and Jedi Tainer, as well as four YVH droids graciously supplied by Tendrando Arms. Their job is to reach the sanctum where Ariada controls the bombs from. En route, they will move through the bridge and disable the ship’s command crew.”

She traced their path from the entry point through the ship towards its stern compartments.

Kyle and Tyria, who were off to the side murmuring to each other, both nodded in acknowledgment.

“Team Two will consist of two commando squads from the Daara’sherum. Their objective is the primary engine room. Reach the engine room and deactivate the hyperdrive by whatever means necessary. The exact location of the hyperdrive is unknown; our source is not an engineer, but we guess it’s in this sector.”

The two commando squad leaders gave fractional nods indicating they understood their role.

“Lastly, Team Three is Master Kraen and myself, along with Qedai. We’re heading for the probable location that the prisoners are being held, and we’re going to free them.”

Milya swept her gaze around the room one last time, then turned her attention to the fleet officer off to the side.

“Meanwhile, Admiral Arystek will set a course for Tython. She will deploy troops to investigate and ultimately destroy anything we find in Ariada’s laboratory there.”

The aged officer gave her own acknowledgment of her orders.

“Are there any questions?” Milya asked.

There weren’t any after several seconds—and for that Milya was grateful. They had spent the last six hours hashing out the plan in a grueling planning session.

“All right then,” Milya said. “We jump to hyperspace in an hour, and there will be simulations available en route once our techs finish them up.”

“A word before you dismiss them,” Selu cut in.

He waited until he had all of their full attention.

“Ariada Cerulaen represents the greatest threat to the galaxy ever to come from Yanibar,” he said. “She has forsaken the light side to sow chaos and terror throughout the galaxy, and for that, she must be stopped. Each of you will have a vital role to play in the imminent confrontation, and I can only ask that you remind yourself why you are risking your life—so that others might live. That is why we all do what we do, why we knowingly endanger ourselves in combat. We do this so that others might live free from threats that they cannot and should not have to face. May the Force be with us all.”

“Dismissed,” Milya added.

The others filed out of the room, leaving Selu and Milya alone with the hologram. Milya’s brow furrowed as she stared at it with a troubled expression.

“You know, you don’t have to come on this one,” Selu told her gently. “Nobody will think less of you if you decide to go after the Tython base.”

Milya’s scowl increased.

“I’m coming,” she said flatly. “Out of all of us, I know Ariada the best. I’m also not about to let her get away from what she’s done.”

“I know,” Selu answered placatingly. “I also don’t want you to exercise any vendettas or to do something reckless in your pursuit of justice.”

Milya turned to regard her husband of fifty years.

“You’re worried about me doing something reckless?” she asked him with a wry smirk. “Isn’t that your job?”

“That incident on Yanibar twenty-four years ago was fairly reckless,” he reminded her.

“My daughter was in danger,” she said stiffly. “That was different.”

“And now your son is in danger,” Selu pointed out. “Not that different.”

Milya thought about it a minute, then conceded the point.

“Fine,” she said sourly. “Not that different.”

“What’s wrong?” Selu asked her. “You’ve been on edge. More than you should be.”

“I’m just worried about what might happen,” Milya said. “The Jedi claim that they don’t know fear, but I do.”

The momentary lapse in her normally steely emotional armor showed in her face, revealing a vulnerability and worry that she only displayed sparingly, and to those she trusted implicitly.

Selu put his arm around her warmly.

“We’re going to take care of this, and then we’re going to go home and get our people to Atlaradis,” he assured her. “This ends now.”

“It should have ended earlier,” Milya said bitterly. “We’ve already sacrificed too much. . . Morgedh. . . the Council. . . possibly Shara. . . and who knows if we’ll all walk away from this one?”

“And it will be worth it when we succeed,” Selu told her. “Evil must be stopped, and this particular evil is ours to stop.”

Milya brushed an errant strand of hair that had escaped the pulled-back chignon, smoothing it back into place. She bit her lower lip, both rare signs of nervousness.

“I just wish—that I had seen it coming,” Milya said. “I feel like I should have seen her fall coming before it happened.”

“And I’m sure Master Yoda regretted that his foresight didn’t show him Palpatine’s true nature,” Selu countered. “That’s not your fault, and neither was your decision to save those Wroonians on R’alla—and by extension, Ariada. She made the choices that led her to where she is today—not you.”

“I know,” Milya admitted. “I just wish I could fully convince myself.”

“You will,” Selu promised. “Until then, I’m here for you.”

She shifted, swiveling towards him and inclining her head forward. Selu took the cue and rested his forehead against hers, an intimate position that she understood meant unity and trust and security.

“Always and forever?” she asked.

“Always and forever,” Selu promised.

She nodded, and for now, that was enough. When they finally separated, Milya frowned, recalling one last detail.

“There’s one more thing,” she said.

“There always is,” Selu answered with a wry smile of his own, not flustered at all by her revelation.

“Novera asked me to join the strike force,” Milya told him.

Selu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“And you told her no, of course?” he answered.

“I told her I’d ask you,” she said.

“Then the answer is no,” Selu told her flatly. “That was simple.”

However, something in her posture told him that it wasn’t that simple.

“You don’t seriously think she should accompany us, do you?” Selu asked darkly.

“It’s not the worst idea,” Milya admitted. “Moreover, she feels she needs to do this to atone for her crimes.”

“Feelings aside, she is a massive security risk,” Selu pointed out. “Not to mention, she was until very recently one of Ariada’s most trusted operatives. If she betrays our position, the whole operation goes sideways. The answer is no.”

Milya sighed.

“You’re right,” she said. “Every logical bone in my body told me the same thing. But if I was her, I’d ask for the same chance. I don’t think she’ll betray us.”

“Are you willing to stake Ryion’s life on that?” Selu asked.

“I already have,” Milya answered him. “It’s her information that gave us the deck plan for the ship and allowed us to set up a plan to jam Ariada’s communications. If she was out to betray us, that’s the easiest way—she doesn’t even have to escape to make it happen.”

“But this could be an escape plan—and she could have done that,” Selu pointed out.

“In which case, all the better to have her near to sense any possible hints of a betrayal,” Milya said. “The old saying goes. . .”

“Keep your friends close, your enemies closer,” Selu finished. “We’ll have to take precautions.”

“I understand,” Milya said. “In the unlikely event you approve of this idea, I’d recommend sedating her until after we dock. And I wasn’t about to offer her a weapon.”

“Let’s keep going back to the part where this is unlikely,” Selu returned.

However, deep inside, he knew that as much as his initial reaction was to immediately reject this plan, that Milya was making too much sense for him to just dismiss it outright.

“Selu, I think this is the best thing. For everyone,” Milya told him sincerely.

He scowled again.

“I’ll consider it,” he said. “First, I want to know every possible scenario that could go wrong. If we can plan around the worst parts, then. . . we’ll see.”

“It’s a start,” Milya replied agreeably. “I can work with that.”

“Let’s just hope there’s a good finish too,” Selu answered grimly.

20
Ryion had been lying strapped to the bed for what he knew were many hours, possibly days. He had been unattended since his awakening on what he presumed was a ship. He was hungry and thirsty, and being kept in utter isolation without even the Force to sense those around him was proving an effective means of tormenting him. He had tried to sleep as much as possible, aware that he would need his strength, but the lack of water and nutrition was weakening him. The room he was being kept in was dark, with only the faint glow of the medical instruments for illumination, and it was very alone.

Captivity was not a new experience for him. He had been trained for such things, had endured considerable ordeals before. That knowledge kept him focused, but his conditioning could only stave off the effects of his confinement for so long. His mind, used to constant action and thoughts, was trapped in a state where nothing he considered mattered. He had already exhausted enough energy trying to break free of the restraints: that was a dead end. Hunger, thirst, and the absence of light and sentient interaction were beginning to erode at his will.

As his spirits ebbed, the one thought that kept him sustained was the knowledge that he had secured Shara’s release. He had saved his wife, and that justified the harsh treatment he was enduring. After some interminable time had elapsed, he finally heard a door opening and a dark silhouette stood backlit against the light streaming through the opening. Ryion squinted against the sudden brightness as the silhouette approached. His tongue was dry, too dry for speech, so he waited expectantly to see who it was.

It was Ariada. She had a trace of a confident, cruel smile on her face. For a relatively small person, she walked and moved with intentionality and surety, secure in her position. She strode over to him, her boots clacking against the hard floor. She stood over him, evaluating his condition, while Ryion kept his own eyes locked onto hers.

“You disappoint me, Ryion,” she said at last, her voice low and controlled. “Not even a feeble escape attempt. Instead, you lie here wasting away.”

Ryion opted to not engage her in banter, knowing that in his parched state he could barely speak. If she wanted something from him, she would have to give him water first. Ariada offered a nearly imperceptible hint of a scowl, then retrieved a plastic bottle from a shelf. With one hand, she squeezed his face, forcing his lips open, and with the other, she squeezed the bottle’s contents into his mouth. Ryion endured the humiliation as the water splashed onto him, greedily slurping it up. Ariada paused to let him breathe, then continued until she’d emptied the bottle. Replacing it on the shelf, she retrieved another identical bottle and set it on the bed just out of reach of his fingertips. Ryion knew that even if he could reach it, there was no way to bring his restrained arm up to his mouth. She was toying with him and he resented it, but he would endure that resentment if it meant more water.

Ariada brushed her blue fingertips against his face and he flinched away from the contact.

“You resent me,” she said. “I am not surprised.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Ryion croaked. “You doomed my world, poisoned thousands, killed my teacher, and kidnapped my wife. And you tied me to this bed where I’ve been rotting for the last ten days.”

“Eleven,” Ariada corrected mildly.

Ryion sighed.

“What do you want?” he asked wearily.

Ariada chuckled.

“I have what I want,” she told him. “I have you, weakened, but not dead. I need no information from you.”

“So this is just fun and games then,” Ryion realized aloud.

He shook his head and laid back. If Ariada was determined to toy with him, he would have to silently endure it, giving her what she wanted as quickly as possible until she became bored.

“You know,” Ariada said, producing one of the ceramic knives that he had attempted to smuggle onboard her ship. “I can only wonder what uses you might have had in mind for this.”

Ryion had taken stock of his tricks and tools when he had awoken and had soon found that none of them had remained on his person. Chagrined, he had been forced to admit that Ariada was far too clever and thorough—not to mention familiar with him—to fall for such elementary ruses. He braced himself for whatever torture Ariada had in mind.

Instead, she wedged the knife blade in between the restraints and the sturdy metal bed and snapped it in half. Ariada swiftly swept away the pieces. She frowned at him in utter disapproval.

“I would have thought you above such skullduggery,” she said.

“Ten years ago, I would have said the same thing about you,” he responded icily.

Her eyes blazed with momentary anger before she calmed herself.

“Ten years ago, I had not seen the things that brought me here,” she told him. “Had you experienced what I have, perhaps you would not be so quick to judge me.”

“I was with you up until the point you decided to leave,” Ryion reminded her.

“This is not about us,” Ariada said. “That is all a distant memory, nothing more.”

“We can agree on that,” Ryion answered defiantly.

“This is about the future of the galaxy,” she told him. “Your mother showed me how to access the Force, to use it for looking into the future, and what I saw drove me to desperate actions.”

“That’s an interesting defense,” Ryion remarked sarcastically. “You should use it at your trial.”

“Mock me at your own peril,” she warned him. “What if I told you that there is a growing darkness within the Jedi Order that threatens to engulf the galaxy in war? I have seen this possibility.”

“And the possibility where the Empire takes over the galaxy again, have you seen that too?” Ryion asked derisively.

“Yes,” Ariada said with chilling severity. “A betrayal and the right political intrigue make it possible, in the future.”

“Apparently you missed the part of Mom’s teaching where she explained not to take Force visions too seriously,” Ryion observed. “The future is in motion.”

“You ridicule my foresight while elevating hers,” Ariada pointed out. “Yet for all your jeering, she did not predict the Yuuzhan Vong invasion. She did not predict this. And when the Jedi Order crumbles from within and the Core Worlds burn for their sins, mark my words.”

Her voice lowered to a cold whisper, but Ryion thought he sensed a tremor of fear in her voice.

“There are darker things in the blackness of space than me, Ryion,” she said. “Biding their time, spreading their seeds of evil.”

“Like what?” Ryion asked.

Ariada visibly shuddered and Ryion saw that she was genuinely unnerved, as if disturbed by a distant memory.

“The Sith can be very patient, Ryion,” she warned him. “Their memories linger on in the minds of many.”

“The Sith? The Sith are dead,” Ryion scoffed. “Palpatine was the last one.”

Her visage turned regretful.

“How many times has that been said?” Ariada demanded. “They claimed that the death of the Sith Emperor marked the end of the Sith. They claimed that Bane was the last Sith. Now they say that Palpatine was the last. The Sith are no more tied to a group of people than the Jedi are.”

Ryion was silent.

“You speak from ignorance,” she scolded him. “I have been to the dark places of the galaxy. I have seen those that hide in the shadows, gathering their strength. Evil, Ryion, does not sleep. Neither does she.”

“Who is that?”

“A greater threat than I,” she warned him. “Once, I sought her help. Now, I know better. She has her own plans, and so do the others.”

“If there’s so much danger in the galaxy, then why didn’t you just send us a message with, say, a dossier on known darksiders?” Ryion answered. “If you’re really out to ‘help the galaxy,’ then wouldn’t that have been better in going on a campaign of terror?”

“To whom would I have sent such a message?” Ariada asked bitingly. “And how would it have been received?”

She scowled.

“The Galactic Alliance? I was unknown to them, with no credibility. The Jedi Order cannot be trusted. And the Yanibar Guard? They would not believe me even if I was willing to die for this. You, the one who knew me the best, scoff at my warnings.”

Ryion had no answer for this either.

“For this reason, I am alone,” she said. “And for this reason, I must persuade the galaxy to react to the danger before it is too late.”

“And you do this by attacking and killing thousands of people?” Ryion asked incredulously. “That was your best idea?”

“I do this by causing the cycle to stop,” Ariada told him icily.

“What cycle?”

“The cycle of the conflict between Jedi and Sith,” Ariada said. “It will always exist so long as the Force does, but the galaxy should not suffer for it.”

“What are you implying?” Ryion inquired.

“The people of the galaxy must no longer look to the Jedi or Sith for leadership,” she told him. “They have betrayed their guardianship for too long. The galaxy must guarantee its own stability, free from the interference of Jedi and Sith as much as possible.”

“The Jedi Order’s guiding principles are protecting peace and order,” Ryion countered.

“And they are always the last to notice when one of theirs falls,” Ariada returned. “Ulic Qel-Droma? Revan? Dooku? Anakin Skywalker? Distracted by affairs of the galaxy, they have lost their focus on the true threat. Only once they stop trying to enforce their will on the galaxy and look to stop the dark side will the galaxy-spanning conflicts cease.”

“That wouldn’t have helped during the Yuuzhan Vong War,” Ryion said.

“Having the Jedi as a separate entity, unshackled by the constraints of the New Republic most certainly would have helped,” she returned heatedly. “Having a government that hadn’t been spoiled by two decades of the Jedi cleaning up every mess for them would have helped. I am wasting my time with you—you choose not to see.”

“Then why are you here?” Ryion returned.

She composed herself, returning to her implacable expression and icy demeanor.

“One last chance,” she told him. “My last chance to save the galaxy from a future of war and strife. If the galaxy develops the means to deter Jedi and Sith without needing one to counter the other, then they will be less likely to plunge it into war.”

“I don’t buy all this,” Ryion answered. “You’re not here to save the galaxy. You’re doing this because you want revenge on the Yanibar Guard for not listening to you in the Yuuzhan Vong War and the Jedi Order and Galactic Alliance for not wiping them out.”

“This is not about petty revenge, Ryion,” she insisted. “The Yuuzhan Vong pose a threat to the future. The Jedi Order poses an even more imminent threat. By striking at the Jedi, I shall both weaken the danger they represent and force them to increase their vigilance, as well as cause the Galactic Alliance to understand what they are dealing with.”

“So why strike at my people?” Ryion demanded. “Why go after Jaina and I? That’s why you went after Shara, isn’t it? To get to me.”

“At first, you were only leverage,” Ariada said. “A means to buy time from the Jedi Order and the Yanibar Guard until my plans came to fruition. That was until I saw the two organizations cooperating, an eventuality I never foresaw. That alone has thwarted far more than I anticipated.”

“The danger of relying on foresight,” Ryion commented acidly.

Ariada ignored his barb.

“My plans were in danger of failing,” she said. “All my carefully-constructed schemes on the verge of collapse due to an inconceivable alliance. When the Force showed me a new option, one that would do little to help me in the near future but gave great promise for the future, I took it. I have seen a future where the galaxy is saved from grave danger by my choice.”

“Congratulations,” Ryion answered drily.

She smirked condescendingly at him.

“Perhaps I should be congratulating you,” Ariada said gloatingly. “After all, you are the father.”

The color drained from Ryion’s face and the retort he had been about to unleash died unsaid. What had she just said?

“What did you do?” he asked in a low, even voice.

“An ironic choice,” she answered, wickedness dripping from every word. “The Yanibar Guard and the Jedi Order joined forces to fight me, and now I have joined them together to create something that shall outlast them both.”

“What did you do?” Ryion repeated, a bit more forcefully.

“Come now, Ryion,” she taunted him. “Surely you remember biology better than that?”

Ryion glowered angrily, struggling against the restraints.

“Ariada, explain yourself,” he said.

“It’s quite simple,” she answered, relenting. “You have considerable Force potential, the most of virtually anyone in the Yanibar refuge. Jedi Solo is the heir of the Skywalker legacy. A child that contained both bloodlines would be. . . unstoppable.”

Ryion was beyond horrified.

“You didn’t,” he breathed.

“I did,” she said. “Even now, nestled in her womb, is the new hope I am preserving for the future, and it is a strong hope, Ryion. This is one of many reasons why I wanted you both unconscious when I found you. It was much easier to perform the necessary procedures that way—I doubt you would have cooperated.”

Ryion’s face twisted into a furious glare as anger overcame his initial shock.

“Damn right I wouldn’t have,” he snarled.

Ariada held up a hand to forestall his outburst.

“If you’re going to bring up your wife, don’t bother,” Ariada told him bluntly. “I don’t care. If she finds out, you can simply tell her the truth: this was done without your consent or knowledge. Or Jedi Solo’s, for that matter. You both have been sedated while you sleep for any medical procedure.”

Ariada smirked.

“She doesn’t even know. Thanks to some slight acceleration through the early stages, she’s nine weeks pregnant, and hasn’t a clue.”

“You’re a monster,” Ryion spat out.

“I can accept that if it provides hope for the galaxy in the future,” Ariada answered dismissively. “Until then, along with serving as leverage, that is why you must remain here. In case the first attempt fails and I need to try again.”

“I’m not some animal for you to use,” Ryion snarled.

“I’m not giving you a choice,” Ariada told him flatly. “The same with Jedi Solo. And that is why your precious Shara is also here.”

“What?” Ryion thundered, further incensed at this latest betrayal.

“I initially considered releasing her in good faith—I have no argument with her—but I noticed that Jedi Solo has sustained recent trauma that may make it difficult for her to carry a child successfully,” Ariada said. “She seems healthy enough, but such human intricacies are beyond my knowledge. Thus, I needed a. . . backup.”

“Isn’t that what you have your little accomplices for?” Ryion asked derisively.

“The physiological enhancements they received could potentially complicate such a delicate matter,” Ariada answered. “It’s not that they couldn’t, but why take the risk? In comparison, Shara is the picture of health. The only thing that has surprised me about her is that she yet to have any children of her own.”

“Leave Shara out of this,” Ryion demanded.

Ariada chuckled.

“You are in no position to make demands, Ryion Kraen,” she told him. “For the moment, Shara is in better condition than you—she is being provided with regular water and food and other basic dignities. As is Jedi Solo.”

“Guess that makes me special,” Ryion commented acerbically.

“Your recalcitrance is most lamentable,” Ariada told him.

“Are you saying that if I cooperated, I’d get treated better?” Ryion asked.

“If I was feeling charitable, perhaps,” Ariada mused aloud. “However, you personally have done much to vex me, and I am willing to indulge my vindictiveness this much. Your choice is simple: either you will receive regular food and water and better treatment, or Shara will. If I need you healthy again, that is easy enough to arrange.”

Ryion’s face set. There was no decision for him.

“Give it to Shara.”

“I thought you would say that,” she told him patronizingly.

She picked up the water bottle that had been sitting by his fingers temptingly and lifted it to her lips. Ariada drank its entire contents in front of him, leaving his still-thirsty body longing for more.

“I’ll keep you hydrated enough to stay alive, but until I have need of you, I want you thinking less about your outrage and the more about the debilitating thirst consuming you.”

She dabbed her finger on the tip of the water bottle, collecting lingering moisture onto her finger, and then traced it across his forehead tauntingly. Ryion could feel the wet sensation on his skin and his thirst welled up anew, but he ignored it as much as possible.

“You shouldn’t have told me all this, Ariada,” Ryion warned her. “It’s only increasing my motivation to bring you to justice, and when I get out, you’ll regret it.”

“You should save your breath,” Ariada answered. “Talking really dries out the mouth.”

She stalked off triumphantly, leaving Ryion stewing. She was right; the prolonged conversation had sapped the moisture from his mouth and it felt as dry as ever. He scowled as he remembered how vindictive Ariada could be at times—she knew exactly where to jab at him, and despite his words, the knowledge of her plans did little to give him hope. It would only be useful if he could escape. Thus far, he had seen no means of effecting one, and the knowledge about how unjustly he, Shara, and Jaina had been used, while fueling his determination, also left him wracked with questions and anxiety. Ariada had left him with the terrible choice of contemplating the injustice that had been inflicted on them, worrying about his wife, and pondering the overwhelming thirst he felt. All the while, he was lying there helpless, a feeling he utterly detested. It was a hopeless conundrum and one that would only worsen with every passing hour. Her punishment was proving far more effective than mere physical harm, and Ryion knew it. Despite his defiance, Ryion could slowly feel himself beginning to despair.


 * Yanibar

Sarth Kraen exited the conference room that was being used as the temporary Council chamber and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Exiting the building to stand out on a balcony, he gazed out across Union City as the setting sun kissed the tip of the distant mountains. For now, all was placid across the refuge, though he knew the tremors could strike at any moment. Despite the impending doom befalling his planet, he still appreciated its beauty.

Quiet footsteps reverberated across the patterned permacrete floor behind him. He didn’t need to turn or use the Force to know it was Cassi—the steps had her light tread and the familiar clack of formal shoes she had worn many times before.

“They made the decision,” he said. “I almost can’t believe it.”

“I know,” she replied. “We debated it for hours—but in the end, this was the best choice.”

Sarth shook his head.

“If Councilor Asharam could see us now.”

“At the end, he made the right decision,” Cassi told him. “He might have made the right one here too.”

“Perhaps,” Sarth mused.

“You’re thinking of all the work you need to do?” Cassi asked.

“I will soon,” Sarth told her. “Right now, I’m just thinking about how much I’m going to miss Yanibar. There are so many memories here.”

Cassi nestled in close to him as he leaned against the balcony rail.

“Me too,” she said. “But we’ll make new ones together on Atlaradis.”

Sarth laid his hand on hers.

“Yes, we will,” he agreed.

Straightening, he glanced up at the sky, squinting into the darkening expanse above.

“The Yanibar Guard wants me to meet with our. . . guests tonight,” he said. “Please give Rhiannon my apologies.”

“I will,” Cassi told him. “Don’t worry, Admiral Almani promised to take all the necessary precautions. You’ll be safe.”

She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“I know,” Sarth replied. “Walk with me?”

Cassi smiled brightly at him.

“Any time.”

Within an hour, Sarth was outbound from Yanibar on a Yanibar Guard transport. The small shuttle rendezvoused with a larger cruiser in orbit, forming up with a larger task force that included two Memoriam-class battlecruisers and three smaller Remembrance-class cruisers. Sarth stood quietly back on the bridge of the Zamara as the naval officers ordered battle stations and bustled about busily.

Soon, the small flotilla jumped into hyperspace, heading for the rendezvous point where Zeyn had left the Yuuzhan Vong vessel. As the reached their destination, Sarth made his way down to the hangar where Zeyn and Danni Quee were waiting by the ship they had arrived in, along with an armed guard. They had been asked to accompany the expedition, but as they had arrived before him, Sarth hadn’t run into them yet—he had needed the time to sort out his thoughts on how he was going to address the Yuuzhan Vong.

“What did the Council say?”

Sarth winced. He should have at least informed them of the decision, apprised them of what the Council had decided regarding the Yuuzhan Vong’s offer.

“We’re going to do this,” he said.

Both of their faces brightened, but Sarth had no time to indulge in celebration. If he was going to speak and cooperate with a Yuuzhan Vong, he would need to keep his mind focused, and the best way to do that was to maintain curt professionalism.

“I understand you have a means of communicating with the Yuuzhan Vong?”

“Yes,” Zeyn said, nodding towards their ship.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Sarth said, gesturing for them to lead the way into the small freighter.

Zeyn and Danni led him to the bridge, where the organic villip communication device was resting. Sarth eyed the round living thing with distaste. Danni, however, moved over to it and stroked the villip, causing it to evert, revealing the scarred visage of a Yuuzhan Vong.

“I was wondering if you would return,” the Yuuzhan Vong hissed in accented Basic.

“Niull Shac, this is Sarth, the leader of our evacuation effort. Sarth, this is Niull Shac, the leader of the Yuuzhan Vong ship that has offered its assistance,” Zeyn introduced them.

Niull Shac inclined his head slightly as a gesture of respect, which Sarth mirrored.

“Zeyn and Danni tell me you have a plan that might make our evacuation plan work,” Sarth said, skipping the pleasantries.

“That is correct,” Niull Shac told him. “So your Council has agreed to our assistance?”

“Yes,” Sarth answered frankly. “You understand, there will be serious limitations and precautions.”

“Ah yes,” Niull Shac replied. “I am familiar with the famous distrust of your people.”

“And it is for that reason that you’ll have to be monitored at all times and only allowed to work in specific areas,” Sarth told him. “For your own protection and to keep this arrangement intact, you’ll have to be isolated from most of Yanibar’s populace—this would fall apart if word got out that we had Yuuzhan Vong helping.”

Niull Shac chuckled.

“For my protection, or yours?” he asked. “It seems like your people would reject you just as readily for collaboration.”

“That they would,” Sarth answered firmly. “Which is why it is all the more important that we work together as quickly and quietly as possible.”

Niull Shac’s face grew grave.

“Your planet does not have much time,” he said.

It was not a question.

“No, it doesn’t,” Sarth admitted. “We wouldn’t even be having this conversation, but the truth is, we’re desperate. If we don’t find a way to get our ships off the ground, we won’t be able to bring everyone, or else we won’t have the supplies we need.”

“And you tell me this freely?” Niull Shac mused.

“I suspect you already knew,” Sarth told him.

“I suspected as much,” Niull Shac answered. “Believe it or not, Sarth, the Yuuzhan Vong know your struggle. For years, generations even, our people wandered the void in worldships, leaving a devastated galaxy in search of a new home. Always, we were concerned about if our ships would make the voyage, or if supplies would last. Some didn’t.”

“Then any help you can render would be appreciated,” Sarth said, surprised at how difficult it was to utter those words.

Was the cause of his reluctance due to lingering resentment at the Yuuzhan Vong for being responsible for this disaster in the first place? Or was it wounded professional pride that he hadn’t been able to solve the technical challenges himself?

“That is why we are here,” Niull Shac declared. “Impose what precautions you feel are necessary—my ship and its crew are here to set things right between our people. We are. . . grateful that you have granted us this opportunity.”

“If this works out, we’ll both come away from this having gained something,” Sarth agreed.

“An understanding, even,” Niull Shac added.

Sarth turned to Danni Quee.

“Technically, I can’t make any demands of you,” he said. “But, as the leading expert on the Yuuzhan Vong and their technology, I was hoping you could help supervise and translate between their efforts and ours.”

She nodded, offering her hand.

“My pleasure,” she said.

He shook her hand.

“Thank you,” he told her. “Having someone like you to help is. . .”

“Having someone he trusts to check our work for sabotage and can sense through the Force to test your sincerity, he means,” Niull Shac interrupted.

Zeyn pivoted back to face the villip.

“Now, now,” he said sternly. “Weren’t we just talking about cooperation and understanding? That’s not a very team-building attitude I’m sensing.”

Niull Shac grimaced.

“Perhaps we both still have much to learn.”

Sarth turned back to Niull Shac.

“Consider this part of our precautions,” he said. “I appreciate the situation your people have placed yourselves in, but having Danni act as the liaison between our two efforts is the best choice for both of us. She knows both your methods and our technology, and we both can trust her.”

Niull Shac considered Sarth’s statement, then nodded.

“That is true,” he conceded. “You have made a wise choice. Danni Quee coordinating between us is acceptable.”

“Good,” Sarth said. “There’s a couple of naval officers here who have instructions for where your ship will go and how to get there. In the spirit of cooperation, I’m hoping you’ll follow their instructions.”

“Of course,” Niull Shac assured him. “I look forward to meeting you in person.”

“Indeed,” Sarth said, hoping he was conveying the appropriate level of sincerity at that uncomfortable thought.

He turned and left while the two naval officers that had followed them in began discussing security arrangements with Niull Shac. Zeyn remained behind, but Danni followed in his wake.

“I want to thank you for placing your trust in me,” she said. “That can’t be easy, given that you barely know me.”

Sarth stopped and turned to face her.

“My nephew vouched for you on the highest levels,” he informed her. “You should be thanking him.”

“I will,” she promised. “This was my idea in the first place, so if anything should go wrong, I would. . . it would be my fault.”

“That is a large responsibility,” Sarth agreed. “But I also feel you are up to it. Like I said, I’m familiar with your work from the war. And believe me, you won’t be the only person we have checking on what the Yuuzhan Vong are doing.”

Danni nodded.

“I’m glad you and your people are giving this a chance,” she said. “When the Yuuzhan Vong War ended, I just wanted them to leave the galaxy, but as I spent time on Zonama Sekot, I began to hope they could find some measure of reconciliation.”

“Perhaps they will,” Sarth told her. “The hopes of our people are hinging on this collaboration.”

“I know,” Danni replied. “I’ll do my best to make sure this collaboration succeeds.”

“I’m sure you will,” Sarth said. “And I expect to see that same effort in your relationship with my nephew.”

Danni’s eyes fluttered in surprise as Sarth grinned at her.

“Oh yes, we know,” he said amusedly, then added warmly. “And we approve.”

She blushed.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I won’t let you down—either of you.”

Sarth nodded appreciatively.

“Let’s get started then.”


 * Daara’sherum

Selu stalked into the cell where Novera was sitting quietly. She did not look up as he entered, content to wait to see what he had to say.

“Milya tells me that you want to come along on the mission to the Knightfall,” he said, skipping any pleasantries.

“Yes.”

Selu stared long and hard at the prisoner.

“Why?”

Only now did she make eye contact, their hard stares meeting each other.

“Because I want to help stop Ariada. She’s done enough harm—and I helped her do it.”

“If the assistance you’ve already provided pans out, there’ll be no need for further atonement,” Selu informed her. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Would it be for you?”

Selu was silent, not having a ready answer for her pointed question.

“No, but I could accept being denied that opportunity.”

“So that is your answer?”

Selu’s eyes narrowed incrementally.

“Why should we bring you?” he asked. “Give me a rational argument, one that doesn’t involve feelings or compulsions or restitution.”

Novera didn’t skip a beat.

“I know that ship. I know its systems. If Ariada hasn’t detected my absence, my authorizations may allow you to bypass some of the security. If you keep me sedated until we’re onboard like your wife suggested, then any betrayal I attempt will be immediately noticeable—and punishable. Lastly, having me there by your side will be more persuasive in negotiations than anything else.”

“Yes,” Selu mused, rubbing his chin. “That is one of my concerns. How can I expect you to fight against people you practically consider sisters?”

Novera met his gaze unwaveringly.

“From my understanding, sir, I won’t be taking part in any fighting.”

“And if we have to kill them?” Selu asked. “Should I expect you to really just stand there and do nothing?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Selu scowled.

“We both know that it is very unlikely that your erstwhile sisters will suddenly lay down their weapons just because you’re there.”

The aged Jedi Master sat down next to her.

“I can’t bring you along unless I can be sure you won’t turn on us. I won’t risk the lives of my family on your need to redeem yourself.”

“Fine,” Novera said. “Rig me.”

“Excuse me?” Selu asked.

“Rig me. Implant an injector inside me and have the control. If I go rogue, one button press will send a lethal cocktail rushing through my veins.”

Selu frowned.

“That’s a bit extreme.”

Novera gave him a blank look.

“You don’t understand, Master Kraen. That’s how far I’m willing to go to prove myself. If that’s what it takes to persuade you to let me come along, I’ll do it. If you want me in force-cuffs the whole time, I’ll do it.”

She softened her voice.

“Besides, it’s not the first time I’ve been rigged,” she said. “There’s already a spot where Ariada’s rigged me before. You can use it again; right along the carotid artery.”

“You had to prove yourself to her,” Selu realized.

“She would have killed me if I had been captured or attempted to give her away,” Novera said. “At first, she said it was for our own protection, but now I know better.”

“Ariada has used you too cruelly,” Selu told her. “This never should have happened to you.”

“Lots of things happened to me that I didn’t deserve,” Novera said. “But I also did things to other people that they didn’t deserve. People do cruel things in the name of a cause.”

“And your sisters?”

“I’ll respect whatever decision you make regarding them,” Novera promised. “That’s as good I can give you—I want them to see what I did, but I also know that they won’t be easily persuaded. It took me long enough.”

Selu nodded slowly.

“You can come,” he said. “With force-cuffs and sedation on the way in.”

“Thank you,” she replied, rising to face him directly. “You won’t regret this.”

Selu gave her one last hard, evaluating stare.

“See that I don’t.”


 * Yanibar

“This is our opportunity!” the younger warrior, the headstrong Tisran Shac, hissed. “This is our chance!”

“Our chance for what?” Niull Shac asked from where he was supervising a group of shapers tending dovin basals.

“Don’t you see? These are the people who took your sister’s life! Now, their entire population is entrusted to us. Think about it.”

Niull Shac was silent a moment.

“Explain,” he said. “Why would I risk such a betrayal?”

“After the death of our sister and the disgrace of her mate, Tsaruuk, you remember what happened to our domain? Stripped of honor, sent to guard slaveworlds and intendants. We lost our esteem within the warriors, and it was because of these people, Niull Shac! These very people whose lives we now hold in our hands.”

“I have sworn us-hrok to them,” Niull Shac reminded his cousin. “Betraying them now would be a gross dishonor.”

“Pthah!” Tisran spat. “A gross dishonor! What was done to us in the war was a grosser dishonor. This is our chance to avenge our sister, and to reclaim our place among the warriors.”

“There is no place to reclaim without a war,” Niull Shac pointed out. “This is foolhardy.”

“It is bold,” Tisran corrected. “Think of what your sister would have wanted. Would she have wanted to see you working to save Jeedai heretics whom her agents had worked so hard to destroy? Would she want to see you undoing her work?”

Niull Shac grimaced.

“No,” he admitted.

“You did not pledge us-hrok to all of them,” Tisran elaborated. “Just that one, Zeyn. You can save him while we destroy the rest. All it will require is having the shapers alter the dovin basals to consume their ships on lift off. They will be a great sacrifice to Yiu Shac’s memory.”

Niull Shac scowled at his impetuous cousin.

“As if such a thing could be done without Danni Quee noticing. She is quite thorough.”

“It can be done,” Tisran assured him. “I have already consulted with the shapers—adding in a secondary villip to the control network will let us command the dovin basals without the Yanibar heretics knowing. If Danni Quee interferes too much, she can be. . . dealt with.”

“You dared initiate a plan without my approval?” Niull Shac questioned.

“No, of course not,” Tisran answered placatingly. “I merely asked if it was possible. What do you think?”

Niull Shac folded his arms huffily.

“I will consider it,” he answered begrudgingly. “I do not contemplate such a betrayal lightly.”

“Remember—this is for Yiu Shac,” Tisran reminded him. “You will be siding with her.”

“That is enough, Tisran,” Niull Shac said. “Leave me.”

“As you wish,” Tisran told him, bowing and sidling off.

Niull Shac stood there for several hours, ignoring the discomfort in his feet and calves from the long duration. Outwardly, he maintained his calm exterior, but his mind was filled with the insidious words Tisran Shac had pointed out. Niull Shac had been prepared to reject them outright, but Tisran’s mention of counteracting his own sister’s work had stung deep, enough to warrant prolonged consideration. He spoke in monosyllables and only when addressed; otherwise, it seemed he was engrossed in watching the shapers perform their work on the dovin basals in the cavernous hold of his ship.

What would his sister say if she was here? It was a difficult question to answer, as the last time he had seen her, they were at war with the galaxy, and now they were not. Compounding that difficulty was the knowledge that it was these very people who had slain his sister and her mate, leading to the downfall of Domain Shac. He wrestled with his decision—while the Yuuzhan Vong were not above skullduggery in wartime, they were not at war with Yanibar anymore.

Moreover, he would be rejecting everything he had told Zeyn Kraen about the war being over and no more need for hostility. He had promised the human his aid in good faith, only now to have that corrupted by Tisran’s words. His mood darkened as he knew it would be a heinous crime—the question was would it be worth it to avenge his sister and remove the stain on his family’s reputation?

“Niull Shac, might I have a word?” Danni Quee asked him.

He snapped out of his deep contemplation, surprised that the human scientist had approached him unawares. Niull Shac schooled his features into a carefully neutral expression and nodded.

“What is it?” he asked, leading her to an alcove away from the others.

“Don’t do it,” she said, and her voice was trembling slightly.

“Do what?” Niull Shac inquired, feigning surprise.

“I know already,” Danni told him. “I know what Tisran wants you to do. I know he wants you to sabotage the evacuation. I overheard him discussing it earlier.”

Niull Shac’s eyes narrowed.

“And yet you are here alone. If this is true, where are the warriors? Where are the ships come to destroy us?”

Danni shook her head, sending her blonde ponytail swaying with the motion.

“There aren’t any,” she said simply. “They don’t know.”

“If you did in fact discover evidence of a sabotage plan, then it was most unwise of you to come here alone and not inform the others. Do you not value them?”

“I do,” Danni answered. “But I also value the Yuuzhan Vong and the possibility of your people finding a lasting peace with the galaxy. You and your people came here to start that process—it would be a shame to abandon it so quickly.”

“You should not tell me what to do,” Niull Shac glowered.

“You’re the one who offered to help with the evacuation,” Danni reminded him. “You’re the one who spoke of putting the past behind us. You’re the one that said it was time for these two peoples to move forward.”

Niull Shac stared at her impassively.

“I remember,” he said.

“That’s why I’m here,” Danni told him earnestly. “I’m here because I believe in those things as much I believe you do. I didn’t tell the Yanibar Guard yet because I want to give you a chance to do the right thing.”

“And if I don’t?” Niull Shac asked.

“Then you should kill me,” Danni said resolutely. “Do it quickly and quietly, so you can claim it was an accident.”

Niull Shac scowled, but gave no immediate answer. Danni laid a hand on hilt of the coufee knife in his belt.

“You could do it here,” she told him. “It wouldn’t be hard.”

“You offer your life so willingly for these strangers?” Niull Shac said. “And for nothing?”

“No,” Danni replied. “I offer my life to give you one last chance to create a lasting peace between this world and the Yuuzhan Vong. It is a choice I once believed you were capable of making.”

“They killed my sister and left my family in disgrace. This is not as easy of a choice as I thought it was.”

“The Yuuzhan Vong killed my entire family,” Danni replied. “I’m not plotting revenge on you because of it. I’ve put that past behind me.”

She took a half-step back.

“You’re the one who said the war is over, that our peoples have no reason to continue fighting,” Danni reminded him. “You saved my life and you saved Zeyn’s life. We helped save Zonama Sekot. Wouldn’t it be better if we kept that streak going?”

Danni shrugged.

“It’s your choice, Niull Shac. Don’t let poisonous words sway you from the honorable decision.”

Then she turned and walked off. Niull Shac twitched, his hand reflexively going for the coufee knife that she had touched, but he restrained himself. He stalked back to the work area, beckoning to one of his aides.

“Bring me Tisran Shac.”

21
The Hawk-bat emerged from hyperspace on the outskirts of the Mustafar system. As soon as it reverted, the small freighter instantly disappeared, hidden from view by the power of the Force. Selu and Milya were at the flight controls of the ship as it slowly crept towards the system. Akleyn and Qedai sat behind them in the bridge, and all four were fully geared up, prepared for battle. Two squads of Yanibar Guard commandos occupied the crew lounge and cargo hold, so the light freighter was quite crowded. Novera was lying in a stasis pod in the cargo hold under guard by Kyle Katarn and Tyria Sarkin Tainer.

They were ready for war. Selu, Milya, and Qedai were wearing Elite Guardian battle armor, while the commandos were in full-body powered armor. Akleyn was wearing a light armored vest over dark clothing, while the Jedi made do with combat suits and Novera was left with a black jumpsuit for concealment. All of them save Novera were armed, even Akleyn, and they had prepared themselves mentally and physically for combat against a desperate foe. It was unlikely that Ariada would surrender, and even more unlikely that she wouldn’t put up a difficult fight. They had to strike hard and fast.

They had tracked Ariada this far; now all they had to do was reach her ship before she escaped into hyperspace again. The Hawk-bat slowly approached the system, its ion trail masked by specially-installed equipment provided by YGI. As they drew closer, five planets became visible, arrayed around the central star of Priate. Two of them were large gas giants, while a third, caught between its two larger brothers, was a volcanic hell, its surface cracked and torn asunder by gravitic stresses pulling on it. It was this third planet that gave the system its name.

Milya consulted the sensor board that was receiving the burst transmission from the nearly-depleted tracking particles.

“As far as we can tell, she’s in orbit around Mustafar itself,” Akleyn advised Milya, who was sitting in the pilot’s chair.

Ordinarily, Selu would have coveted that position, but his eyes were tightly shut as he concentrated on keeping the ship hidden and he had no focus to spare on mere flying.

“She would be,” Milya commented dryly.

“So it’s true then? The stories about this place?” Qedai asked.

“You mean is this the planet where Darth Vader and Obi-Wan Kenobi fought?” Milya replied. “As far as we know, it is.”

“Why would Ariada come here?” Akleyn asked, gazing at the fiery inferno of Mustafar’s surface as the planet swelled to consume their viewscreen.

“It’s isolated,” Milya answered. “No one would look for her here unless they already knew where she was.”

Under Milya’s steady hand, the light freighter swooped in closer to Mustafar. This close, they could see the bright arcs and splatters of fresh eruptions and lava flows amidst the choking clouds of smoke and ash engulfing the surface. The dark ash-covered rock of Mustafar was riven with vast fissures brimming with magma and towering volcanoes spewing up the world’s innards into the sky. They watched as Mustafar burned in its throes of tectonic agony below them, the ship skimming the edge of its atmosphere as it settled into an orbit.

“She’s close,” Milya said, her eyes searching the viewscreen.

“How are we supposed to know where she is if her ship is cloaked?” Akleyn asked. “I presume you can’t sense it in the Force?”

“No,” Milya answered. “We do this the old-fashioned way. We’ve interfaced an AI into the ship’s computer to tell us when the cloaking field protecting her ship is occulting surrounding stars. Based on Novera’s description of the ship, the computer will then attempt to render an outline of her ship based on which stars are occulted and predict her orbit and track.”

“So we could run into her at any time?” Akleyn inquired.

“It’s not likely, but it could happen,” Milya told him. “That’s why we’re flying nice and slow.”

“Comforting,” Akleyn answered sarcastically.

The Hawk-bat made several orbits around the hellish world.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Qedai remarked, staring down at an exploding volcano violently hurling lava into the sky. “Not just that it’s a volcanic world—it makes me queasy just being here. Like a lingering stain on the planet.”

“If this was where Vader and Kenobi fought, the after-effects of their Force-usage could reverberate for years,” Akleyn pointed out, then after a pause, added. “I feel it too.”

“Focus,” Milya said. “Focus on the mission.”

Qedai and Akleyn quieted down as Milya flew the Hawk-bat through yet another orbit. On their eighth orbit, the computer beeped at them, attempting to draw an outline. Milya immediately noticed, subtly altering course to allow the ship’s sensors to construct a more complete holo of the ship.

“She’s in a polar orbit,” Milya told them, vectoring on an intercept course. “Unorthodox.”

“How close?” Qedai asked.

“Very,” Milya said, toggling the ship-wide intercom. “We have acquired the target. All units stand by.”

Qedai nodded and slipped out of the ship to take her place by the hatch. When it came to boarding action, as a Force-user, it was her job to spearhead the charge until Selu and Milya could arrive. Meanwhile, Milya flipped the arming switch on the specially-equipped ion missiles that the Hawk-bat was counting on to temporarily disable Ariada’s ship. Apprehension grew within her as the Hawk-bat closed on the green wireframe representation of the Knightfall that the computer was drawing on her navigational display.

They were minutes away from docking with Ariada’s ship and beginning the most desperate and most personal struggle Selu and Milya had ever faced. Their son and daughter-in-law were onboard that ship. So was a woman that they had once raised like a daughter, now inexorably turned to darkness. This was the evil that Selu had said was theirs to stop, the last task left for the Yanibar refuge before they could fully focus on their pending journey to Atlaradis.

“Impact in thirty seconds,” Milya announced as the wireframe grew to consume her field of view. “Stand by ion charges.”

Slipping the ship under the protruding stern and its engine pods, Milya headed for the section on a long ventral extension that Novera had told them housed a series of docking hatches. They would have to fight their way upward to reach the prisoners and the vitals of the ship, but there was no other place to dock, and blasting their way into an unknown vessel was foolhardy at best. Milya lined up her targeting brackets, preparing to fire. She tightened her grip on the controls, knowing that this was the last chance to abort. If she failed now, the life of her son, her daughter-in-law, a Jedi Knight, and possibly millions of people on Bespin and Coruscant were forfeit.

She flipped another switch that would deploy a message buoy.

“Message buoy on standby,” Milya said.

Once released, the message buoy would transmit a hypercomm message to the Galactic Alliance that in essence said “Here I am.” Selu and Milya had decided that any other means of notifying them was too risky, in case Ariada had moles inside the Galactic Alliance.

The computer chirped at her again, indicating that she was in firing range. Sweat was beginning to coalesce on her skin, instigated by worry. Milya turned to Selu, who was still sitting quietly beside her in the cockpit, directing all his effort into hiding them from Ariada.

“Does she know?” she asked him.

“No,” Selu answered softly.

“And is this the right choice? Final call,” Milya told him.

“It is,” Selu said, his voice firm with conviction. “This ends here.”

Milya nodded.

“Firing ion missiles.”

The Hawk-bat shuddered as eight missiles shot from its single launcher in rapid succession, spiraling outward to impact various sections of the menacing cruiser they were dangerously close to. The missiles detonated in cascading orbs of blue ion energy that sent lightning skittering across the surface of the ship that had suddenly been revealed by the explosions.

It was just as Novera had described, an oblong black frigate with a prominent ventral extension. Dorsal and pectoral bulges contained weapons and communications gear, while a pair of drive pods at the stern provided propulsion. Enormous blue crystalline shards studded the ship’s sides like defensive spines, and Novera had informed them that they helped Ariada focus her power. The Knightfall loomed over them like an ominous predator as Milya suddenly thrust the Hawk-bat forward to close from firing range to the boarding collar. Thankfully, the engines and cloaking device had been temporarily knocked out, so Milya didn’t have to worry about the Knightfall maneuvering or disappearing.

Within seconds, the Hawk-bat was clamped onto the side of the Knightfall like an aggressive limpetfish attaching itself to a Dozoisian shark. Milya activated the docking clamps as Selu’s eyes opened, dropping the protective Force camouflage that hidden the tiny Hawk-bat until it could strike and latch on.

“Breach and board once the seal is secured,” Milya called as she and Selu unstrapped from their seats and headed aft to where Novera was kept.

By the time they had awoken Novera and secured her arms with force-cuffs that allowed her some freedom of motion but not enough to engage in combat, the boarding party had made their way into the dark confines of the ship. The ion missiles had knocked out the ship’s lighting, so only emergency lighting illuminated the corridors, resulting in a darkness abetted by the fact that the ship was paneled with a dark metal.

They were all there, and had faced no opposition thus far. So far, so good.

“This is it—the final clash we’ve been looking for.” Selu told them. “You know your objectives—maintain radio silence until engaged. Don’t stop, don’t hold back, and don’t give up. Millions are counting on us, and I know you won’t let them down. No matter what, this ends here. May the Force be with us all.”

At his parting words, the group split into their three and headed their different ways. Selu and Milya led Novera and Akleyn, with Qedai bringing up the rear, towards the central section of the ship where the prisoners were rumored to be held. Kyle and Tyria, followed by four hulking YVH droids, broke off and set out for the front of the top of the ship and its bridge, which housed the controls for the bombs. Meanwhile the largest group, the sixteen commandos and their four JRF fire-support droids, headed for the stern of the ship and its engines. While theirs was the largest group, it also lacked a trained Force-user. They moved in silent coordinated unison, quiet professionals breaching into the lair of a desperate and implacable enemy. No more words were needed—they knew their mission.

Ariada’s eyes shot open, though she had not been asleep. She did not sleep much these days, haunted by terrifying dreams and the faces of the young women she had sent to their deaths. She had been meditating, using the dark side of the Force to contemplate the future and its possibilities, and the portents had seemed particularly ill. This time, she saw not only the crumbling Jedi Order, but even more sinister things. A dark side entity, rising to drive Force-users mad. A man slaying his family for the sake of power. A forested world burning. And, worst of all, she had seen the Sith on Coruscant once more, conquering all in their path. In all of her visions, Ariada had never seen signs of Sith resurgence so obvious, and it chilled her to the bone to contemplate it. She sought power and called on the dark side, but to demand such absolute dominion, as the Sith did, and to utilize its terrifying power so as to be consumed by it—that was a horrifying prospect. Ariada knew the dark side was a tool, too powerful of one to be ignored, but to give oneself over to it completely—even as she acknowledged that recent events had forced her to walk further down the dark path, a part of her still stubbornly insisted that she was not completely under its thrall.

However, as her mind snapped back to reality, she knew that something was very, very wrong. Not only was her visions plagued by haunting possibilities, no, this was something in the present. Ariada stretched out her senses and immediately she knew that an event she had tried her hardest to pre-empt was happening. They had found her. They were here. The ship was plunged into darkness around her—they had disabled its systems and were attacking in force. She did not have much time. This was not completely unanticipated—Ariada had known about the possibility of an intrusion, but seeing it as a potential future in the Force and knowing that it was happening at this very moment were two very different things. For the first time, her foes had contrived to engage her on terms other than those she had dictated, and this did not bode well. Ariada had prepared for this eventuality to an extent, but the thought of implementing her contingency plans twisted her stomach. No matter what the outcome, today would have a bitter end. She steeled herself for the confrontation, knowing that there were things she had to do. First, Ariada picked up her comlink.

“Aspra,” she said.

“I am here.”

“We are under attack,” she told him calmly. “Expect to be boarded. Defend the prisoners at all costs.”

“As ordered,” he replied. “I shall ready the Nine.”

He did not bother reducing their number down to the fact that only six of them at best remained; Emerald was still missing, and Ariada had sensed Qixoni’s death some time earlier. To Aspra Serpaddis, they would always be the Nine, and for that, Ariada was pleased. It was a way of keeping things whole, unbroken. The way they should have been.

“Send Opal and Sapphire to me,” she said. “I will need them. Send Amethyst to the bridge—take the rest with you.”

Ariada slid on her weapons belt and strode forward from her sanctum. She knew where the intruders would go: down to the prisoners. She had to reach them first—if Ryion and Jaina Solo were also turned against her, she did not have a chance of surviving long enough to make a difference. In an instant, an epiphany came to her, and she knew what she had to do. The only question was she willing to make that sacrifice despite the awful consequences. Just as it had been for the last ten years, Ariada knew that the answer was yes, and that made up her mind.

She would do what was necessary.


 * Tython

The cruiser emerged from hyperspace and quickly accelerated to maximum sublight. The angular, flattened warship sped across the system until it orbited the Deep Core world of Tython. The cruiser barely registered amidst the sea of light and radiation signatures of the star-packed Deep Core, allowing it to take up position over a particular point on Tython without resistance.

Admiral Arystek surveyed the sensor report dispassionately as she stood on the bridge of the Daara’sherum. The ship’s sensors, combined with scans from reconnaissance probes, confirmed the location of Ariada’s laboratory perched across a chasm. It was a squat, armored structure, wreathed in mists, and while some parts of it were new and modern, it was clear even from orbit that it was an ancient structure that Ariada had repurposed.

“Just where we were told it was,” the admiral told herself.

Out of all the crew, only she knew that the original source for the laboratory’s location had been a former confidante of Ariada Cerulaen. However, thus far, Novera’s intelligence had proven true.

“Any sign of defenses?” she asked the sensor officer.

“No shields or ground-to-orbit defenses that we can detect,” came the response.

“Stand by ion cannons,” she instructed her gunnery chief, then turned to the fighter coordinator. “Launch the Maelstroms, have them sweep over the lab and suppress any defenses. Hold the Thunderheads in reserve for additional support as needed. Keep the Whirlwinds near us.”

The aged admiral turned to her ground complement director, Colonel Hosta, and gave him a single order.

“Drop troops.”

No other order was needed. They had already refined the assault plan en route. As soon as she gave the order, dozens of drop pods of various sizes shot from the Daara’sherum’s underbelly, rocketing down towards the surface of Tython from orbit. Behind them followed a wave of shuttles carrying additional personnel and equipment.

The admiral switched her personal console’s view to a feed from a high-altitude reconnaissance probe circling 10,000 meters above the laboratory. She saw a quartet of the double-pronged Yanibar Guard Fleet Maelstrom fighters streak over the laboratory and when green laser bolts rose to meet them, the emplacements instantly came under attack from the other eight fighters that had been biding their time. The dozen fighters of Paladin Squadron, Yanibar’s most elite fighter squadron, were showing their skill, destroying the anti-fighter defenses with ease as they swarmed over the laboratory.

“Initial wave has landed and is advancing,” Colonel Hosta reported.

Arystek switched her feed again to an infantryman’s helmet cam. She saw a ragged line of infantry in full-body powered armor suits advancing up a steep rocky slope, carefully probing the ground they walked for hidden traps or defenses. Intermingled with them were the venerable but still lethal droideka droids that the Yanibar Guard used to supplement their infantry, though the droids were having difficulty traversing the rugged terrain. The incline was severe enough that the soldiers could barely walk upright as they picked their way through the misty boulder field and crags that led up the steep cliff. Behind them strode several hulking JRF-3 fire support droids lugging repeating blasters, beamlasers, or minitorp launchers. Through the infantryman’s feed, Arystek could just barely see the lab peeking out about a half-kilometer farther up the steep slope.

Suddenly, a wave of blaster fire shot out from the mists, scything into the Yanibar Guardsmen from hidden defensive positions. The infantry took the first fusillade on their personal shields, but quickly sought cover among the rocks and boulders. The admiral watched as the troops returned fire with their blasters and rifles, attempting to use thermal or ultraviolet scanners to identify targets. The droidekas, unable to shield on such an uneven surface, were quickly destroyed, but the JRF-3s with their larger weapons and bipedal configuration were able to return fire. Arystek watched as one of the lumbering droids advanced past the man whose holocam she was viewing through, firing its repeater with a steady whump-whump-whump that spewed a stream of violet blaster bolts ahead.

The hostile fire immediately focused on the JRF-3s, allowing the Yanibar Guard infantry to crawl up tentatively, scooting from cover to cover as the fire support droids laid down suppressing fire. Her audio feed was suddenly filled with a roaring sound as Paladin Squadron came around for a pass on the ridge-top defenses. The supersonic flyover was soon mixed with the cacophony of laser cannon strafing runs and the boom of proton torpedoes that erupted in clouds of fire and sent dirt and rock flying into the sky. However, though some of the blasterfire diminished, the defenders continued to pour hot light down at the advancing Yanibar Guardsmen.

“Avatars, advance,” Colonel Horta ordered. “Admiral, you might want to view through Pathfinder One’s feed.”

Arystek switched her console’s view again and now saw the steep slope from eight meters up. She was viewing the battle from a cam mounted on a hulking eleven-meter tall Avatar battle walker, the most advanced piece of terrestrial technology the Yanibar Guard fielded. The sturdy walker shrugged off blaster impacts; even with its high profile, its shields easily absorbed the hits it took. Arystek watched as the walker and its three companions cut loose with their own weapons, twin repeating laser cannons and concussion rockets pulverized the ring of defenses protecting the laboratory. The Avatars continued laying down fire even as they stomped towards the summit. Their increasingly devastating firepower resulted in an immediate decrease in return fire, allowing the Yanibar Guard infantry to advance behind the armored spearhead of the four walkers.

They approached the shattered entrance, where the walkers stood guard across the fifty meters of open ground from the slope to the lab, while the infantry and surviving droids moved ahead. Shuttles dropped down to the level ground to pick up casualties while Paladin Squadron buzzed protectively overhead.

“We’ve secured the entrance to the lab,” Colonel Horta told her unnecessarily, as she was well aware of that from the sensor feeds at her disposal.

“Proceed,” she told him.

He nodded and issued the command. Yanibar Guard infantry began advancing into the facility, splitting up into groups to secure its various branches. Arystek cycled through the feeds, but the soldiers met little resistance. It appeared that most of its occupants were scientists, who were taken prisoner and passed to the rear for extraction. The remaining mercenaries fought hard when encountered, but the close-quarters combat expertise and superior equipment of the Yanibar Guardsmen allowed them to easily push through. Within half an hour, the entire facility was secure.

“No sign of prisoners, sir,” the infantry leader reported. “Just a bunch of scientists and their equipment. Lot of scary stuff down here.”

“Understood,” Colonel Horta said. “Have your techs download all the information and retrieve any data cores.”

The officer turned back to Admiral Arystek.

“We’ll be extracted offworld within three hours, ma’am.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Colonel,” she told him.

The colonel was as good as his word. Two hours and forty minutes later, the last Yanibar Guard Nimbus shuttle was rising through the clouds, en route to the Daara’sherum. Admiral Arystek had watched the whole process in case she was suddenly needed.

“We’re clear, ma’am,” Colonel Horta told her.

“Good,” she nodded approvingly. “Ahead of schedule, too.”

Arystek turned to the gunnery chief.

“Ventral turbolasers stand by. And Lieutenant, transfer fire control of the main ventral heavy to my console. I want a shot at Ariada’s rat’s nest for myself.”

“Yes, ma’am,” her gunnery chief replied.

Seconds later, her console showed the main targeting controls for the primary ventral turbolaser, a far heavier weapon than was normally mounted on ships of this class and one of only two the cruiser carried. She studiously calculated the firing solution, adjusting for atmospheric conditions to avoid dispersal, waiting for the computer to confirm her targeting. Admiral Arystek toggled the intercom that would let her communicate with the rest of the gunners training their turbolasers on the laboratory some three hundred kilometers below.

“Fire on my mark,” she said.

The admiral adjusted her aim fractionally one last time, then depressed the red fire button.

“Mark.”

All across the ship, dozens of gunners hit the same commands and the underside of the ship erupted as a volley of purple turbolaser bolts and the single continuous beam from the ventral heavy turbolaser seared down from space to smash into the laboratory. From a drone feed, Arystek watched the turbolaser blasts engulf the laboratory, unleashing immense destructive energy. Fireballs shot into the sky from secondary explosions, while the laboratory’s structure was blasted away as the columns melted under the bombardment. Successive volleys further punished the weakened structure, and on the third bombardment, the supports that held the laboratory in place over the chasm collapsed, sending the entire structure tumbling downward hundreds of meters into the misty depths of Tython.

“So much for Ariada’s presence here,” Colonel Horta remarked.

“And good riddance,” Admiral Arystek said. “We’ve picked up the Hawk-bat’s signal—set a course for Mustafar, maximum speed.”