Force Exile VI: Prodigal/Part 8

17
Selu waited at the bottom of the ramp inside the Daara’sherum’s forward hangar bay, staring out through the translucent shimmering magcon shield that kept the atmosphere inside. From the black star-speckled backdrop of space, a small gray dot slowly resolved itself from the distance, growing as it drew nearer. Within a few minutes, the inconspicuous freighter had arrived, swooping through the magcon shield to settle down on the dull gray hangar floor with practice ease. Its landing gear made contact and puffs of gas efflux emerged from braking thrusters as it parked on the zone designated by a uniformed flight controller. A protective detail of armored commandos and an Elite Guardian stood nearby. Once its engines whined down, Selu approached the ship, reaching it just as its boarding ramp lowered.

Milya and Tyria descended from the ramp, ushering a young redhaired woman in a simple tunic and pants down in front of them. Novera’s hands were force-cuffed, but aside from those and her two potent guards, she was unrestrained.

"Take her to the brig,” Selu instructed the protective detail. “Protocol Seven.”

“Yes, sir,” the commando leader replied.

Milya reluctantly surrendered her charge over to them.

“Is this necessary?” she asked with a frown.

“For a highly-trained Force-using murderer and saboteur, she’s lucky that’s all the precaution I’m taking,” Selu replied. “We have only your word that she’s not dangerous.”

“I’m no threat to you, Master Kraen,” Novera spoke up.

Selu gave her an even look, appraising the young assassin.

“I hope not,” he replied. “Until we can be sure, you’ll forgive my prudence.”

He nodded and they led Novera away.

“I’ll visit you soon,” Milya assured her as Novera shot one last worried look back at her.

“Bringing her here is dangerous,” Selu remarked. “Jedi Tainer, what do you think?”

Tyria shrugged.

“The only better place for her would be the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I’d be concerned about the escape risk anywhere else,” she said.

“True enough,” Selu agreed. “Master Katarn is waiting for you in the guest quarters. He wishes to discuss Master Skywalker’s condition.”

Tyria took the hint and left, allowing Selu to escort Milya to a nearby secure conference room.

“Fill me in,” Milya replied simply once the door had sealed shut behind them and the conference room’s security console indicated they were secure.

“Ryion and Jaina have been captured,” Selu said. “Ariada demanded their surrender and they complied. She threatened to kill Shara and destroy Cloud City if they refused.”

“Go on,” Milya said, her face frozen into an expressionless mask.

She was internalizing her emotions, clearing them away so she could function with the cold rational logic that was demanded of the Director of Yanibar Guard Intelligence.

“Shara was supposed to have been released under the terms of the deal, but she hasn’t turned up yet,” Selu said. “No reason to think Ariada lived up to her end of the bargain.”

“Her history isn’t exactly in favor of it,” Milya remarked curtly.

“There’s still no word from Skywalkers and Solos either,” Selu said. “Master Katarn’s been in contact with the Jedi Council; they’ve sent a party to the Drexel system to investigate. Their preliminary reports indicate that the system is inaccessible to hyperspace travel.”

“An interdictor ship?” Milya asked. “I would think that’s quite out of Ariada’s budget.”

“Sensor sweeps found high concentrations of dark matter,” Selu explained. “Sound familiar?”

Milya nodded grimly.

“A dark mass shadow mine,” she said. “Ariada worked with Sarth to develop them.”

Dark mass shadow mines were developed by the Yanibar Guard during the Yuuzhan Vong War specifically to deal with the alien ships. While the mine’s explosion did little actual damage, it left behind a large expanse of dark matter that quickly engulfed billions of cubic kilometers, rendering hyperspace inaccessible for any ship caught within the trap, as well as cutting off hypercomm signals. While the effects could be countered with the proper application of anti-matter charges to clear corridors through the dark matter, the Yuuzhan Vong’s reliance on biotechnology meant that they likely didn’t have ready access to anti-matter, unlike most standard galactic militaries powered by normal reactors. They could be crippling to an enemy unaware of their effects, as the ships would be trapped inside, only able to maneuver via sublight engines, which could take weeks to escape the bubble, but they were not lethal, particularly to a full battle fleet and the appropriate technical knowledge.

“I’m impressed she managed to reverse-engineer the technology,” Selu answered. “Nevertheless, the Jedi have already sent a relief expedition with the necessary anti-matter to free the system from its effects. They should arrive any time now.”

“Good,” Milya answered. “At least that explains where they’ve been.”

“Hopefully,” Selu told her. “We still don’t know what happened in there, but none of the Jedi reported sensing any deaths.”

“Which of course could be hampered by ysalamiri bubbles,” Milya finished. “I get the holo.”

“So that leaves us with Tython,” Selu said. “If your source is accurate, we can threaten Ariada with its destruction if she doesn’t surrender.”

“And if she chooses to cut her losses?” Milya warned him. “She could try to use Jaina, Ryion, and Shara as leverage.”

“She won’t get that chance. We have more hidden leverage,” Selu told her. “Ryion and Jaina left us a clue.”

“What? How?” Milya asked.

“They rigged their ship with tracking particles,” Selu said. “The solid-state transponders in the particles are providing us with real-time location information on the whereabouts of her ship, accurate to within about a million cubic kilometers.”

“Won’t the cloak on her ship hide them?” Milya asked.

“The transponders are networked,” Selu said. “Some of them fall off the ship at set intervals when it’s in realspace and burst-transmit a different frequency when they detach. We can map out not only where she is, but what her path has been.”

“It’s simple, then,” Milya replied. “We coordinate with the Galactic Alliance and take her down. I’m sure it won’t take much convincing for them to provide the firepower and interdiction ships needed to hold her in place.”

“Let’s just hope Ryion, Shara, and Jaina aren’t paying too high of a price,” Selu replied grimly.

Selu’s comlink chirped. He picked it up and saw that the call was from the comlink he’d loaned to Master Katarn, so he activated it, setting it to speaker mode.

“Go ahead, Master Katarn,” Selu said.

“We should talk,” the Jedi Master answered simply.

A few minutes later, Kyle and Tyria arrived at the conference room and were admitted. Once they were all seated around the broad rectangular table that dominated the room, Selu gestured for Kyle to speak. The Jedi Master’s bearded face was solemn.

“The Jedi Temple just contacted me again,” he informed them. “They relayed a message from the Galactic Alliance. Ariada’s apparently given them a quiet threat, but it’s a very dangerous one.”

“Go ahead,” Milya told him.

“She said she’s left four bombs containing the technobeast virus on Coruscant,” Kyle explained gravely. “If the hunt for her isn’t called off, she’ll detonate them and infect millions.”

Selu and Milya were aghast at the news.

“She wouldn’t,” Selu said. “All of her attacks thus far have been fairly localized, as if to avoid galactic pandemic. She wouldn’t dare deviate now.”

“The Jedi Council is concerned about the possibility,” Kyle admitted. “So is the Galactic Alliance. Their analysts have noticed an alarming pattern of. . . escalation in her attacks. We have to treat this as a real threat.”

“It most likely is,” Milya replied. “Ariada doesn’t bluff much.”

“She’s kept it quiet for now, but warned us that just the announcement would cause mass panic,” Kyle said. “That alone could cripple Coruscant for months on end.”

“So the Galactic Alliance is quietly complying with her for now until they can figure out a better solution,” Milya surmised.

“Unfortunately,” Kyle answered.

“Blast! Just when we found a way to track her and could use the Galactic Alliances’s help!” Selu muttered.

At the quizzical looks from Kyle and Tyria, he quickly explained about the transponders that Ryion and Jaina had tagged her ship with.

“We have another two weeks at the most before we run out of transponders,” Selu concluded. “We believe we can both catch her and deal with her lab on Tython in that time frame. . . if we have Galactic Alliance support.”

“That’s a big risk,” Tyria answered worriedly. “The Galactic Alliance no doubt doesn’t like cooperating with Ariada, but we’re talking about galactic panic, economic upheaval, and millions of casualties on the line here.”

“The other part of it is that she has Jaina Solo, as well as my son,” Selu added. “Ariada has a lot of leverage right now, and she’s using it.”

“So we take it away,” Milya suggested. “If we can’t trap her the old-fashioned way, we sneak onboard her ship and neutralize her.”

“How do we stop her from activating the bombs?” Selu asked.

“Hit the ship’s comm array with an ion charge on the way in,” Milya said. “We get close, find out where the prisoners are held, then we hit them with an ion charge right before we board. Their comms will be scrambled long enough for us to free the prisoners and stop Ariada.”

“In the meantime, we can arrange for the Daara’sherum to pay this lab on Tython a visit,” Selu added. “I’m sure they can find a way to deal with it.”

“It’s a risky plan,” Tyria pointed out. “If it goes wrong, a lot of people could die. Do you think Novera knows about the bombs?”

“Possibly,” Milya said. “It’s worth asking her about.”

“That may be our best bet. Her leverage isn’t going away, and our window of opportunity to find her is,” Kyle answered. “I’ll need to inform the Jedi Council, but if this is the best route, count me in.”

Selu’s comlink chirped again.

“Well, I appear to be popular,” Selu quipped, answering it.

“Master Kraen, incoming priority message from Yanibar,” the bridge comm officer informed him.

“Understood. Stand by,” Selu said, then turned to the two Jedi. “If you’ll excuse us. . .”

“We understand,” Kyle said, gesturing to Tyria. “We’ll talk this over more later.”

“Of course,” Selu assured them.

They both rose and left. Once the room was clear, Selu prompted the bridge officer to relay the conversation to the room’s holoprojector. A minute later, a holographic representation of Cassi appeared, but she was wearing unusually professional attire: a formal suit instead of her normal casual wardrobe.

“Cassi, how is Sarth?” Milya asked.

“He’s still recovering. It’s a slow process, but we’re managing,” Cassi replied.

Selu frowned as he looked at the message details appended to the datastream.

“Cassi, it appears this message was sent using the Ruling Council’s protocols,” he said.

“Yes, that’s why I’m calling,” Cassi explained. “Your ship was incommunicado the last few days; we’ve been trying to reach you.”

“So why the Council protocols?” Selu asked.

“Because I’m on the Council now,” Cassi revealed. “Provisionally, pending a full vote, I’m actually chairing it.”

Selu and Milya exchanged surprised looks.

“Congratulations are in order, I suppose,” Selu said slowly. “Last I heard, they were talking about having Sarth chair the Council. What happened?”

“I volunteered,” Cassi answered simply. “Sarth was already overwhelmed with his technical work before being injured. Adding to that responsibility was simply too much for him.”

She seemed pensive, concerned about Selu and Milya’s guarded response, so Milya did her best to put her sister-in-law at ease.

“Well, I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job,” Milya told her. “With Selu and I busy out here and your prior experience running a relief organization for refugees, you’re exactly the chair the Council needs right now.”

“Thank you,” Cassi said appreciatively. “I still have a lot of catching up to do in terms of understanding the position, but. . . at this point, the provisional members of the Council are just looking for stability.”

“I understand,” Milya replied soberly. “Just do your best. We’ll be back as soon as we can stop Ariada.”

“How is that going?” Cassi asked.

“We may have a lead on her, but it’s a risky one,” Selu responded. “She has Ryion and Shara, but they left us a way to track her.”

Cassi paled.

“Are they all right?”

“Hard to say,” Selu answered tersely. “But she’s threatening millions of people with destruction if we interfere with her again. Stopping her before she can react will be difficult.”

“I trust you’ll make the right decision,” Cassi said soberly. “There’s no real update on the evacuation effort. Sarth’s still trying to find a way to get all of the ships off the ground. It’s. . . not looking good.”

Selu and Milya appeared downcast at the news.

“We’ll do what we can,” Cassi assured them.

“I know,” Selu replied. “But we need to finalize the contingency plans. How do plans look for leasing ships or carrying reduced cargo?”

“We’ve already cut back the cargo manifests as low as we dare,” Cassi warned him. “Atlaradis may be a wonderful planet, but given that we won’t be able to import anything, it’s crucial that we be as self-sufficient as possible. As for leasing ships. . . we’d need a lot of ships. At this point, the evacuation ships can only lift off and make it into hyperspace at half-capacity.”

Selu exhaled heavily.

“That’s not what the earliest models showed when we designed them,” he reminded her.

“The earliest models were constructed assuming different engine specifications,” Cassi reminded him. “They had to change the design and materials to even be able to complete them all within the deadline.”

“Which doesn’t even matter if the ships can’t do their job,” Selu fumed, then softened his tone. “I know, it’s not your fault. I’m just frustrated that I can’t be back there helping. We are not leaving half our people behind.”

“I understand. It’s been hard on all of us,” Cassi said. “There’s one other thing you should know. Rhiannon’s come back to visit, and she brought one of her sons with her.”

“She is?” Milya asked instantly. “What for? Is something wrong?”

Cassi left unsaid a comment about how Milya immediately asked if something was wrong when her daughter came to visit. The prolonged separation between mother and daughter had never sat well with her, but she knew that mentioning it would only cause Milya further grief, especially in light of the news she had for her, so she refrained.

“You could say that,” Cassi explained. “Their community voted in favor of resettling on Naos instead of Atlaradis.”

“What?” Milya demanded. “You can’t be serious.”

“Unfortunately,” Cassi replied.

“Why would they do that?” Selu asked. “There’s no logical reason to pick Naos over Atlaradis!”

“There’s no logical reason to live Outside either,” Cassi reminded him. “These people wanted to be independent and free—and they’ve never really trusted us. They like having contact with the rest of the galaxy and the Naotian representatives apparently made them a good offer.”

Selu threw up his hands in disgust.

“So it’s come to this,” he said bitterly. “The reason Rhiannon’s come back to visit is to say her last goodbyes, and we’re not even there to see her. Just when I thought we had a chance of being together as a family again.”

“How can you be so sure she’ll leave forever?” Milya asked him.

“Oh, I know,” Selu replied sourly. “She made that choice twenty years ago when she married Kavlis Burke. If their entire community is going to Naos, then she’s going with them.”

“Kavlis was actually the one who asked her to visit, to come Inside and make her decision after experiencing both sides of the decision,” Cassi put in.

Selu nodded.

“He’s a good man,” Selu replied. “Which is unfortunate for me, because if he wasn’t, then I never would’ve let Rhiannon within a kilometer of him. Nevertheless, when her decision is finally made, she’ll go with him.”

“And she should,” Cassi added. “She’s not just your daughter. She’s a wife and a mother and a friend and if she’s anything like her parents, then she’s a key part of their community.”

Selu sighed heavily.

“I know,” he said. “I just wish it could’ve been different.”

“It’s not a sure thing,” Milya replied. “There is still hope.”

Selu shook his head.

“Even if you could persuade her, or even her entire family, to leave the rest of their community and come with us, would you want to?”

“Of course I would,” Milya insisted. “I’ve been on Atlaradis. I’ve seen how much better it is than Yanibar, or even Naos.”

“Which matters surprisingly little if the people you love aren’t there,” Selu remarked. “I’d choose Raxus Prime over Hapes if you were on Raxus.”

“I note how you’re leaving us out of the ‘people you love’ category,” Milya answered dryly.

She rose from her chair.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Novera, see if she knows anything about Ariada’s latest leverage,” she said before leaving.

“I apologize for that,” Selu told Cassi. “She’s taking the news rather hard, and not being there only makes it more difficult. I suspect she’s known that we would be separated from Rhiannon permanently for a long time, but hasn’t wanted to face it.”

Cassi nodded understandingly.

“And how about you?”

Selu pursed his lips.

“In my heart, I have always known that Rhiannon’s destiny would be different than mine. That is something I struggled to come to terms with for many years, but now, knowing that she will be with the people she is closest to, I am at peace. That is the best I could hope for my daughter.”

Cassi smiled at him.

“She’s staying at my place, and it’s wonderful to see her again,” she said. “I’ll see if we can arrange for her to talk with you and Milya.”

“I’d like that very much,” Selu told her. “No telling how long we’ll be out here—we’ll definitely make the next scheduled check-in.”

“Rhiannon said she could stay for up to a month,” Cassi told him. “I’ll arrange for her and Tavin to come to the next check-in so you can talk to her.”

“Thank you,” Selu said. “It would mean a lot to both of us.”

“Any time,” Cassi replied. “Stay safe out there, and may the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” Selu answered. “We’ll do what we can.”

“That’s all we really can ask anyway,” Cassi said. “Until next time.”

The hologram dissipated into nothingness, leaving Selu to sit thoughtfully at the table for several minutes before moving on.


 * Zonama Sekot

Zeyn looked out across the impromptu camp that the Yuuzhan Vong had formed around the Dragon Cave. It was sunrise on Zonama Sekot and the burning golden orb cast sunbeams around a lone figure looking out at it from the edge of ridge, catching her hair in its warm glow. Too slight and blonde to be a Yuuzhan Vong, Zeyn knew it was Danni. They hadn’t spoken in the two days since their last conversation, and he had to admit, it had been a lonely convalescence. Over the past several days that they had been stuck together, he had grown accustomed to at least having her to talk to, even if there had been nothing to talk about. She’d been avoiding him.

He was sure that if he asked her about it, that she would merely say she had been working to help the Yuuzhan Vong shapers construct a cure to Ariada’s virus. She felt indebted to him, yet he’d callously hurled vitriol at her the last time they’d spoken. In truth, Zeyn was still angry that she’d divulged the precarious nature of the Yanibar colony to the Yuuzhan Vong, but he also knew that some of the trust she’d placed in him had been eroded by his ill-tempered remarks. He grimaced, knowing he was going to have to earn some of that trust back eventually if he wanted to restore their rapport. While his mission didn’t require him to be on good terms with Danni Quee, he felt bad for hurting her. The level of remorse was enough to give him pause, knowing that he was feeling the seeds of some dangerous emotions. He would have to tread lightly.

Easing himself up slowly, he found he had the strength to stand. The dull pain in his gut and ankle flared up, sending spots through his vision, but he steadied himself. Neither of his arms was fully functional and his balance was tenuous from the concussion sustained in the fight against the assassin, but he was able to limp forward. Slowly, he made his way over to where Danni was standing at the ledge. He noticed that she had managed to clean up over the last couple days and her clean skin stood in stark contrast to his still-dirty and haggard appearance. She turned slightly to see him there.

“Good to see you up,” she told him.

“Agreed,” Zeyn replied. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay, I guess,” she said listlessly. “It’s been a rough past few days. It’s catching up with me now that I have time to breathe and process all of it.”

“I understand,” he answered, then hesitated. “About two days ago. . . I said some things harshly. What I mean is, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Danni admitted, nibbling on her lower lip nervously. “I should have been more respectful with the things you told me. I didn’t realize they were spoken in confidence—I was just trying to help.”

“I know,” Zeyn said.

“It’s my fault for even asking in the first place. That’s how it always starts,” she continued distractedly. “I get caught up trying to learn or do something, and it comes back to bite me. I went out to ExGal-4 and the Yuuzhan Vong attacked, nearly killed me a dozen times over. I came out here after five years of horrible war to find peace and learn about Zonama Sekot, only to find that makes me a target for a ruthless assassin and gets my best friend killed. Then I pry into your life and end up giving away the secrecy of your people after you saved me.”

She was rambling now, and felt foolish for doing so, but the onrush of words kept spilling out of her, releasing emotions she’d bottled for days on end. Zeyn gave her an impassive look.

"I’m sorry,” she said softly, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“Someone needed to hear it,” he answered, equally softly. “You’re strong, Danni Quee, but there’s no shame in admitting when you can’t endure alone.”

“I suppose not,” she said. “And you? Are you alone also?”

Zeyn scanned the horizon for a moment before replying.

“I have my teammates and my people,” he said. “It is enough.”

She took the remark in stride, then shifted subjects.

“What will you do next?” she asked.

“I can probably walk by tomorrow,” he said. “I need to find out if my ship is reachable. I need to contact my people, assess the current situation.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

Zeyn shrugged.

“Whatever you think is best,” he said. “I can barely walk, much less protect you right now, so it may be safer here if you trust the Yuuzhan Vong. If you’d rather come with me, that’s fine also.”

She stared at him, confused.

“That’s a significant shift from the single-minded planning you were showing earlier,” she said uncertainly. “Do you not want me along?”

“Up to you,” he said. “I need to determine what the threat to your life is, and then we can proceed from there. If you’re still in danger, then I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.”

“What if you’re ordered elsewhere?” she asked inquisitively.

Zeyn hesitated.

“I doubt I would be if a definite threat remained,” he said. “I would argue strongly against leaving you unguarded if that was the case.”

“And if there’s no threat?”

He shrugged.

“Then my mission will be complete, and I’m sure I’ll be either reassigned or return home,” he said.

“Will you speak with your mother when you get home?” she pressed.

“Of course,” Zeyn replied stiffly. “I promised I would.”

“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she told him. “I can see you’re not fully healed yet—best give it some more time.”

She used her last words as a farewell and walked off, leaving him standing alone, pensive. Zeyn wasn’t sure whether her reference to his status reflected his physical injuries or the betrayal he’d felt when the Yuuzhan Vong revealed they knew of Yanibar’s plight. He gazed out over the ledge as the sun continued to rise over Zonama Sekot.

The slight crunch of heavy footfalls alerted him to the approach of another, and the weight of the tread was far too heavy for Danni’s light steps. Zeyn bristled as he realized it could only be a Yuuzhan Vong. He turned slowly to see Niull Shac regarding him.

“Need something?” he asked.

The Yuuzhan Vong’s dark eyes glinted as he detected the undercurrent of suspicion in Zeyn’s voice.

“We have located your ship,” he said. “It is contaminated with the pathogen.”

Zeyn scowled.

“If you do not believe me, I can have some of the shapers show you to it,” Niull Shac told him. “We have not tampered with it.”

“Thanks,” Zeyn replied, “but if it is contaminated, then I can’t exactly use it, can I?”

Zeyn didn’t exactly trust Niull Shac’s report, as there were many valid reasons the Yuuzhan Vong would want to deny him access to his ship if they were planning something, but he could always verify that later, when he had the strength to make it to his ship alone.

“Perhaps,” Niull Shac replied mildly. “That’s not all we found.”

“What else did you find?” Zeyn asked.

“Another ship,” Niull Shac explained. “Outside the quarantine zone. Her ship.”

Zeyn’s eyebrow arched.

“We have no use for such a thing,” Niull Shac told him. “But you might.”

“That I might,” Zeyn agreed.

“This way,” Niull Shac told him, leading him through the tampasi. “It is not far, less than half a day’s walk.”

In Zeyn’s weakened condition, he wasn’t sure that he should really be hiking through the forest instead of healing. In all honesty, he could have asked Niull Shac to lead him to it the next day. However, his stubborn pride also forced him to refuse showing weakness in front of a Yuuzhan Vong. That much candor was simply too much to ask.

Zeyn stopped by to pick up his armor and weapons belt on his way over. The Yuuzhan Vong might’ve been keeping him here as part of a charade because they needed something, but alone in the forest might provide greater opportunities to dispose of him. Danni saw him across the camp and approached him as he prepared to follow Niull Shac.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Niull Shac said he’s found the assassin’s ship,” Zeyn told her. “I’m going to investigate, since my ship’s inside the quarantine zone. I’ll be back by nightfall.”

“Should I come with you?”

“Up to you,” he said. “Wherever you feel safer.”

Danni wordlessly grabbed her pack and tagged along as Niull Shac led them through the thick tampasi. The sun rose higher as they trekked through the thick brush. Zeyn’s breathing was soon labored from the exertion, his weakened body struggling under the demands placed upon it, but he refused to admit discomfort or fatigue. His willpower and determination not to fail in his mission sustained him, while he split his caution between his surroundings and watching Niull Shac for any sign of a double-cross.

There was little conversation between them, for Zeyn was in no mood to talk and simply traversing the rugged terrain was taxing enough. Danni and Niull Shac had a few scattered conversations, but Zeyn’s brooding silence was enough to quell at least Danni from prolonged exchanges. He kept himself in between Danni and the Yuuzhan Vong, and the positioning alone also aided in stifling conversation. While he had done it to be in a protective position, the relative silence was an added secondary perk.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached their destination. The journey had been grueling, but otherwise uneventful, and Zeyn was relieved that no further threat had manifested itself—he was unsure of his ability to defend Danni at the moment.

Niull Shac gestured at a thicket of trees and Zeyn peered inside to see the distinctive silhouette of a small transport. The pod-shaped craft had a pair of stabilizers extending from its aft as well as stubby outriggers along the fuselage, allowing him to identify it as a Skipray Blastboat, a well-armed, sturdy vessel that had been in service for many years. Zeyn carefully surveyed the ground around the vehicle, advancing cautiously.

“We didn’t approach it too closely,” Niull Shac said. “One of our warriors perished in an explosion when they found it.”

“Mines, probably,” Zeyn muttered. “Good news is that it’s not likely that it’s equipped with a remote self-destruct.”

“Why not?” Danni asked.

“Because I can’t imagine one of Ariada’s assassins wanting to be stuck on a planet full of Yuuzhan Vong that she intends to poison without a way to get off just because some locals found her ship,” he said as he slowly circled the craft. “It’s not camouflaged that well, likely because she was in a hurry, possibly sensed me coming.”

Despite his reassuring words, there was a sense of a growing danger in Zeyn’s mind, though he couldn’t quite place it. Possibly there were more unexploded mines in the area.

“Stay back,” he warned them. “I sense some kind of threat.”

There was a sudden snapping of branches and a flurry of leaves arose from the broad branches sheltering the Skipray. Zeyn leaped aside just as a trio of cluster rockets exploded where he’d been standing, his lightsaber already in hand before he landed. Shrapnel from the explosions lanced out, nicking his right hand, but he ignored the fresh wound. One of the menacing war droids that he’d faced twice now swung down from the branches to hit the ground near him with a loud thud. Zeyn saw Niull Shac push Danni into cover while he turned to face the threat.

“Intruders,” the droid rumbled in a deep mechanized voice. “Not just any intruders—the ones that Qixoni seeks. How promising.”

Zeyn knew he was in trouble—the droid had interposed itself between him and Danni, and he already knew they could be formidable opponents. To divert its attention, he shouted out to the droid.

“If you’re talking about the assassin, she’s dead!”

“Unlikely,” the droid growled, turning its repeating blasters on him.

Zeyn stood his ground, using his lightsaber to deflect the incoming streams of fire, but the ones he directed back at the droid simply glanced off of hazy shields. The droid’s third arm swiveled around to fire on Niull Shac, who had drawn a coufee knife and charged it. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior didn’t hesitate, continuing his rush even when the droid’s arm blasted him with freezing cryospray, which he ducked under. Faced with a threat that its secondary arm couldn’t stop, the droid started to switch to point its two primary arms at Niull Shac while its third arm kept Zeyn at bay. The moment of transition was an opportunity, though, and Zeyn took it. Using the Force, he torqued the secondary arm in mid-firing sequence to point at the droid’s head. As expected, a safety protocol prevented the droid from firing on itself, allowing him to lunge forward and skewer it on his lightsaber. The droid roared and thrashed around wildly, knocking him loose and convulsing as its shield overloaded, sending tendrils of electricity skittering across its body. It staggered three more steps towards Niull Shac before collapsing lifelessly, Zeyn’s lightsaber hilt still embedded in its back. Niull Shac stalked forward, his left arm hanging wounded at one side and drew the lightsaber out, marveling at it. Then, he found the power switch and deactivated the blade. Stalking forward, he offered the weapon to Zeyn hilt-first.

“Good kill,” the Yuuzhan Vong told him.

Zeyn accepted the lightsaber slowly.

“Good diversion,” he returned, unsure of why Niull Shac had employed such a seemingly suicidal tactic by charging the droid.

He knew the Yuuzhan Vong had little in the way of self-preservation instinct, but to deliberately sacrifice himself for seemingly no gain seemed unnatural. That added to the growing confusion in his mind about the Yuuzhan Vong perspective that had been niggling him since being saved and healed by the aliens he had once fought against so bitterly. Zeyn shook his head slightly to refocus himself on the task at hand. He could contemplate Yuuzhan Vong philosophy when their position wasn’t so tenuous.

“Stay back, I’m going to check for any more surprises,” he told the others as he began circling the perimeter in a search for traps.

There were five more mines arrayed around the ship, and another one tucked away into the recess near the rear access door. Zeyn carefully disarmed each one, then began slicing into the lock. The AI built into his suit was offline, but he was able to breach the lock without too much effort using a preprogrammed slicing routine that cycled through a vast array of possible entries. In a few minutes, the hatch unsealed and he entered the Skipray Blastboat slowly, checking for danger. There was one more mine leading towards the bridge, and Zeyn took care to disarm it before proceeding.

The ship was otherwise unoccupied, though it had been extensively modified. Ariada had packed in a small bunk, refresher station, and a workbench for field modifications along with racks and recharging stations for the droids. The laser cannon turret had the option to be fired remotely from the main bridge. Zeyn also noted with relief that the ship had an expensive full-range hypercomm onboard.

“It’s clear,” he told the others.

Niull Shac declined to enter, no doubt averse to being around that much machinery. Some Yuuzhan Vong beliefs, such as distaste for inorganic equipment, were no doubt deeply-rooted in their culture. Danni, however, entered and looked around while Zeyn seated himself at the main pilot’s chair and attempted to slice into the hypercomm. It was slow going and he soon found himself frustrated. His fatigue and unhealed wounds only added an unnecessary distraction that was compounded by a difficulty in breathing.

“Are you doing okay?” she asked, noting his labored breathing.

“I’m fine,” Zeyn lied, though he suspected that his abdominal wound had re-opened in the struggle with the droid.

For once, he was actually thankful that his AI, whom he’d named Backup, wasn’t online. The program was sometimes too worrying for Zeyn’s tastes, and would have revealed his injury to Danni. On the other hand, if Backup was working, the AI could have probably sliced into the ship’s computer already. Computer work had never been Zeyn’s specialty. He considered bypassing it manually and trying to directly splice the hypercomm cables to the power supply, but the likelihood of the device working properly if he did that was slim—he wasn’t much of a mechanic either. That had been Ryion’s and Qedai’s preferred areas of expertise.

“Can I help?” Danni asked. “It’s been a while, but I’m not bad with computers.”

Zeyn was sufficiently vexed that he didn’t brush her offer aside.

“Sure,” he said. “Maybe you can make more headway with it.”

Vacating the pilot’s chair, he gestured for her to take over while he rummaged through the rest of the ship. Danni was soon engrossed enough in her work that Zeyn was sure she didn’t see him find the medical kit. Turning so his back was to her, Zeyn peeled off his lower-body armor sheath to expose the unhealed stab wound. Sure enough, it had re-opened and was seeping blood. Thankfully, there seemed to be no sign of infection. Zeyn dabbed the wound with a bacta gel and then applied a fresh bandage over it, glad that it wasn’t one of the organic creatures the Yuuzhan Vong used for healing. He taped the bandage in place with space tape and then reached for the armor plating to hook it back into place. A twinge of pain shot through his freshly-aggravated wound and he halted, grunting as black spots swam across his vision. He sat back slowly, taking deep, gradual breaths until his eyesight returned to normal.

“A little slower next time, Zeyn,” he told himself as started to reach for the plate again.

A pair of slender hands picked it up and offered it to him. Danni was standing beside him holding the scarred and dirty armor, looking worried.

“I’m fine,” he told her as he accepted the armor and began strapping it back into place. “Thank you.”

“You’re still hurt,” she pointed out.

“I’ve been worse,” Zeyn told her. “How about the hypercomm?”

“I was able to slice through it,” she said. “Its codes were fairly standard, with a few encryption layers I recognized from your datapad. I also found out from the ship’s logs that she’s the only person that was sent here. She’s alone.”

“You sliced into my datapad?” Zeyn asked, ignoring the good news she had just given him.

“I was trying to find a way to contact your people when you were injured,” Danni explained. “I hoped the datapad would give me a way to do so. I didn’t even get through most of its security before you awoke.” Zeyn scowled. It was rather too late to be annoyed about it now, but he couldn’t completely stem the tide of irritation rising within him at her.

“I see,” he answered laconically. “Good work on the hypercomm.”

Limping over to the pilot’s chair, he sat down heavily and activated the terminal. First, he checked to make sure the transmissions weren’t being automatically forwarded—they were. Zeyn frowned, a frown which deepened once he saw that the navicomputer was also similarly monitored. That meant that any transmission he sent would be received by Ariada as well, and revealing that her assassin had failed might provoke a stronger response. Leaving the planet would have the same effect.

“It’s no good,” he said. “Any transmissions routed through this hypercomm or hyperspace jumps are monitored by Ariada. I’d just be giving us away.”

Without waiting for her reply, he stalked out of the Skipray Blastboat in frustration. What he really wanted to do was reach his ship and blast off this Vong-infested rock and obtain some decent food in a proper medcenter with a pretty nurse or two. Sadly, that didn’t seem to be in the cards since he couldn’t even reach the Yanibar Guard, much less get off Zonama Sekot.

Zeyn was glaring out in the tampasi that surrounded them like an oppressive verdant curtain when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Did you contact your people?” Niull Shac asked.

A lie bubbled into his mind, but since he hadn’t informed Danni, there was no guarantee his story would check out if she was questioned. There was no reason to clumsily show distrust in such an obvious manner. If the Yuuzhan Vong was intent on betraying him, the information would make little difference since any help Zeyn could summon wouldn’t reach here in time anyway.

“No,” Zeyn answered tersely. “The hypercomm and navicomputer are monitored—Ariada will see anything we transmit or track us anywhere we go.”

“A downfall of your communications,” the Yuuzhan Vong said. “Villips cannot be monitored or intercepted.”

Zeyn scowled again.

“Not all of us have living telepathic creatures for communications,” he said. “And those have limitations too.”

“Of course,” Niull Shac answered diplomatically.

Zeyn decided to change subjects.

“Why did you charge that droid?” he asked him. “It could have killed you.”

“You had the better chance of killing it than I or Danni Quee did,” Niull Shac said. “Neither of us would have escaped it if it pursued us. The only choice was to attack and hope you could finish it with your Jeedai weapon.”

“You would have died for a pair of alien strangers,” Zeyn replied in disbelief.

Niull Shac bared his teeth slightly.

“I would have gladly died in battle for a chance at victory rather than being hunted and killed like prey.”

“You saved all of us,” Zeyn pointed out.

“More importantly, we defeated our foe. That makes it a good tactic,” the Yuuzhan Vong told him. “That we did it with minimal loss makes it a viable one as well.”

The Yuuzhan Vong faced him.

“Would not your people say the same thing? Do you not accept losses as part of war?”

“Not willingly,” Zeyn answered slowly. “We treasure every life as valuable, the innocent more so.”

The Yuuzhan Vong stared at him for a moment as if trying to understand the alien concept.

“I have heard of that belief among the Jeedai; I confess I do not understand it,” he said.

“Wouldn’t expect you to,” Zeyn said.

“I can overlook that difference,” Niull Shac told him. “Can you?”

“If this is about your offer of help. . .” Zeyn started.

Niull Shac held up a clawed hand.

“Zeyn, you will have to trust me if you wish to leave Zonama Sekot. Your ship is contaminated and you cannot contact your friends,” he said. “Barring the arrival of your people, you are stranded here—and your people may well be stranded on their own world.”

Zeyn contemplated telling the Yuuzhan Vong to shove his amphistaff somewhere it didn’t belong, but he was running out of options. He had banked much on being able to contact Yanibar, and that had fallen through. At this point, he had nothing to lose by hearing what Niull Shac had to say.

“I’m listening,” Zeyn said.

“This ship can still fly, but it cannot communicate or jump to lightspeed on its own without giving away its presence, yes?”

“Right.”

“What if another ship took it into hyperspace?” Niull Shac asked him. “What if another ship carried it?”

“Then it wouldn’t be monitored,” Zeyn said. “The navicomputer wouldn’t even have to be on.”

Niull Shac nodded slowly.

“And as for your people. . . dovin basals can destroy, but they have other uses.”

“You’re not serious,” Zeyn said in disbelief.

“I am,” Niull Shac told him. “Our shapers could use dovin basals to help lift your people off the ground.”

“And you would do this because. . . ?” Zeyn asked him. “I fail to see why you’d want to do that.”

“I fail to see why you would have come out here to protect someone you have never met on a world populated with beings you hate when you could have let us die,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered. “You and your people stood to gain nothing from sending you out here. We could be dead right now, this world destroyed.”

Zeyn nodded.

“We treasure all life, the innocent more so,” he said. “Nobody else was coming to defend this place, so I was sent.”

“As I said, it is a foreign concept to me,” Niull Shac said. “But a debt has been incurred—and among our people, such debts are honored. The lives of your people for the lives of mine.”

The Yuuzhan Vong gestured in an enigmatic staccato manner in front of Zeyn’s face.

“I pledge us-hrok to you, Zeyn of the Jeedai,” he said. “In Basic, a rough translation is a debt. As I understand it, nobody is coming to aid your people in leaving their world—but we will.”

Zeyn was taken aback, surprised by the Yuuzhan Vong’s candor and frankness. While part of him suspected the Yuuzhan Vong of treachery, his understanding of Yuuzhan Vong body language betrayed no skepticism on the part of Niull Shac.

“That’s not an easy offer for me to accept,” he said slowly. “You understand why.”

Niull Shac nodded sagely.

“Of course,” he said. “But I needed to make it—for honor’s sake.”

“Thank you,” Zeyn replied. “I’ll think about it. We should head back to the village—it’ll be dark soon, and even if I agree, I’ll need to collect the rest of my gear from there first.”

The warrior nodded and stalked off; leaving him to contemplate the longest and strangest conversation he’d ever had with a Yuuzhan Vong.


 * Yanibar

Tavin walked into the front office of Sarth and Cassi’s house, quietly taking in everything. The room was otherwise empty, and most of the furnishings were boxed up. A lone desk sat along the wall, while on the other side, across from a window that the bright afternoon sun shone through, several easels rested, draped with cloth.

Curiosity got the better of the young man and he walked over to them, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face. Carefully, he peeled back the canvas covering over the first easel to reveal a painting of a breathtaking panorama. Snow-tipped mountains crested magnificently in the background, while fields of lush green grass dominated the landscape. Splotches of color showed flowers while the darker jade of trees dotted the horizon. A magnificent setting sun illuminated patchy clouds in hues of magenta and ochre, shining benevolently across the alpine landscape.

Tavin stood for a moment, admiring its beauty, and then went on to the next piece. It was another mountainous landscape, a ledge that jutted out from a sheer cliff overlooking a misty canyon. Eight moss-covered pillars were arrayed in a circle around a perfectly tranquil pool of water, which was bordered by a single tree with silver-green leaves. The scene bespoke serenity such as he had never seen even in the loneliest wastes of Yanibar—which certainly lacked the natural beauty he was seeing in the paintings.

There was one more painting and as Tavin removed the canvas, he took in a deep breath. It was a view of a planet mottled in greens and azure blues from space, with wisps of white cloud overlaying its surface. An ancient toroidal space station was visible amidst a dense asteroid belt that surrounded the planet. Calling it a ring or belt didn’t do them justice, though, for the rocks surrounded the planet from every angle and the solar wind impacting the magnetic field of the planet caused a shimmering iridescent aurora to dance over the poles of the world in the painting. Tavin felt a stirring in his heart at the incredible sight. He had never been in space before, and seeing that perspective was both strange and incredible to him. He stared enrapt for several seconds, taking in every detail.

“Do you like them?” a voice asked.

He turned suddenly, startled, and immediately felt embarrassed, as if he had been caught snooping. His great-aunt was standing there, but there was no condemnation in her face, so he was able to relax.

“They’re beautiful,” he said. “Did you paint them?”

“Force, no,” Cassi replied with a smile. “I described them, but a Jal Shey named Trillvillai painted them. He did an excellent job.”

“I can see that,” Tavin answered, admiring the painting once more. “What world are these of? Surely this isn’t Yanibar.”

“No,” Cassi admitted. “This is Atlaradis.”

“You’ve been there,” Tavin realized.

“Myself and your grandmother, nearly ten years ago,” Cassi affirmed.

“And you didn’t stay? I mean, this place is gorgeous.”

Cassi’s eyes twinkled.

“It’s magnificent all right, but we had to come back to tell people about it.”

“And this is where your people are going.”

“That’s right,” Cassi said. “As long as we can leave Yanibar safely.”

“I can see why my mother was so confused about why our community chose Naos over this,” Tavin said.

“And how do you feel about all of this?” Cassi asked him.

He frowned.

“I’ve always been sort of contrary,” he answered. “I don’t generally go along with the crowd for the sake of it. Drives my brother and dad crazy sometimes. But if this is what we’re passing on for Naos. . . we’re making a mistake.”

“Believe it or not, the paintings didn’t sway the leaders of that community,” Cassi told him.

“That’s absurd,” Tavin said. “Look at them.”

“And look at what you have seen in the refuge,” Cassi pointed out. “Yet we offered a life inside to the Outsiders at any time, if they would promise to abide by our laws. Some joined us. Many refused.”

“I don’t understand,” Tavin answered. “Now that I’ve been in here, there’s no logical reason to live outside.”

“Pride,” Cassi said. “And stubbornness. Some people prize familiarity and despise change so much. Some people can’t handle the idea of a free gift. They prize being able to earn what they have so much that they miss out on the potential they could have by accepting a free gift.”

“And this planet is just waiting for your people to settle on it?” Tavin asked.

“That’s right,” Cassi said. “Seems hard to believe, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me looking at these.”

“Not at all,” Cassi told him warmly. “I look at them myself from time to time. Feel free to look at them any time you want.”

“Thank you,” he said. “They’re giving me a lot to think about.”

“You do a lot of that, thinking,” Cassi answered. “Anything you want to share?”

“Not really. Nothing much to say for now,” Tavin replied with a shrug.

“All right,” Cassi said, checking her chrono. “I should go. Sarth will need his medicine soon, and he won’t take them unless I watch him.”

Tavin nodded and she left. However, he lingered, staring at the paintings for some time, transfixed by the scenes portrayed in front of him.

18
Milya paused before entering the cell, clearing her mind of the last vestiges of the conversation she had had with Selu and Cassi earlier. She had intended to come here straightaway, but knew that having her mind buzzing with distractions would not make for a good conversation. She needed to be at her sharpest to handle Ariada and to a lesser extent, Novera, so she had made use of the ship’s gym, working her muscles until she could focus on nothing else but the strain, until her body was too tired to think about Rhiannon and the terrible choice she had to make. A quick sanisteam and a meal while reading over Katarn’s full report had helped focus her mind once more on the task at hand: stopping Ariada. R eassured, she entered the passcode and nodded to the pair of guards, who opened the first of two thick durasteel doors, admitting Milya into an isolation chamber. Only once they had sealed behind her did the second set of doors open, admitting Milya into the small chamber where Novera was housed. This was the ship’s isolation cell, the only one onboard, designed for holding Force-sensitives. It was magnetically sealed and Milya knew that it could easily be flooded with stun charges or sedative gas. However, it was at least furnished, with a heavy bench of a bed and a flimsy chair that would be of little use as weapons. As she stepped inside, Milya saw that Novera was lying on the bed, staring at the featureless metal ceiling. Novera’s eyes immediately darted to her and the tray of food she was carrying.

“You must be hungry,” Milya said, walking over to the bed as Novera sat up.

She set the tray down beside the young woman. Novera hesitantly picked at it.

“Go ahead,” Milya urged her. “I’ve already eaten, and this is probably the best food you’ve had in weeks. It’s not laced with anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Milya sensed the woman’s tentative mental probe, testing the veracity of her words. Milya stood by quietly with silent confidence; she had been telling the truth. Novera, too, seemed satisfied, and then dug in to the proffered tray with relish. It wasn’t the most elaborate meal, a Denuba sandwich, Almakian apple, fried cebolas, and beebleberry juice, but Novera hungrily wolfed it down. Milya watched her eat patiently, seeing no reason to interrupt Novera’s repast.

“Thank you,” she said in between bites.

“You’re welcome,” Milya said. “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner; there were a lot of things I had to deal with.”

“Ariada. . . and something else,” Novera answered. “Something’s happened to your family.”

Milya took the keen observation in stride. Someone had apparently been passively sensing her emotions, and without her noticing.

“Perhaps,” she said enigmatically.

Novera gave her a thin smile.

“We should learn to trust each other, Master Kraen,” she said.

Milya’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s interesting coming from the person who used the Force to sense if I was lying about drugging the food.”

Novera shrugged.

“Old habits die hard,” she said.

“That’s what concerns me,” Milya answered evenly.

No doubt the reality of being locked in an extremely secure cell again had made Novera less sanguine about her current circumstances. Novera finished her meal and set the tray aside.

“So, where do we stand?” Novera asked.

Milya appreciated the straightforward question. Novera was determined to understand her situation and possible leverage before she volunteered any further information. Milya considered evading the question, but she felt the young woman deserved better after being unceremoniously hauled off to a detention cell after Milya had given her some level of trust.

“You’re in the custody of the Yanibar Guard. Officially, you’re a high-value asset with possible intelligence that could prove crucial to stopping Ariada.”

“And unofficially?” Novera asked bluntly.

“There’s two different versions of the unofficial story,” Milya informed her. “The first is that you’re a young Force-sensitive who was brainwashed by Ariada, and we rescued you from her, and you’ll be given asylum, along with a fresh start. No history, no recriminations—just some minor YGI surveillance and an occasional meeting once Ariada is stopped.”

“The second?”

Milya didn’t even bat an eye at the question.

“The second is that you’re an assassin linked to multiple murders and attempted murders on numerous planets, and once Ariada is stopped, you’ll be handed over to the Galactic Alliance along with all of our data for use in your prosecution.”

Novera’s thin smile returned.

“And who gets to decide which version becomes reality?” Novera asked.

“We do,” Milya answered, indicating Novera and herself. “You, because you are free to choose between your loyalty to Ariada and the potential of leaving that past behind. And me, because I’ll be the judge of your character.”

“You already know I have no love for Ariada,” Novera said. “She took everything from me.”

“And you already know that I’m a suspicious gundark who doesn’t take many people’s words at face value, even if I sense their sincerity through the Force,” Milya answered lightly. “The possibility of someone lying to me and getting away with it using the Force cannot be discounted.”

“So you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you more than most,” Milya countered. “That’ll have to do, for now.”

Novera nodded, her voice softening.

“It does,” she said. “Thank you for your candor.”

“You deserved it,” Milya replied.

The young assassin shook her head despondently.

“After the things I did, convinced I was saving the galaxy, I doubt I even deserve to be here.”

“We all have things in our pasts we regret,” Milya reminded her, thinking back to the dozens of lives she had taken in her quest for vengeance decades ago. “Remember what I said; we’ll do this one step at a time. This is the next step.”

Novera nodded again.

“All right,” she said with more confidence. “What’s the next step?”

“Ariada has threatened the Galactic Alliance,” Milya informed her. “Reportedly, she’s planted four bombs loaded with the technobeast virus on Coruscant, as well as a nuclear device on Cloud City. Do you know anything about those?”

Novera considered.

“I never made it to Bespin,” she said. “I knew there were missions there, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“And Coruscant?”

Novera placed her fingertips on her temple as she sought to recall.

“If it’s what I think they were, I might,” she said. “We didn’t know they were bombs. Ariada gave four of us assignments to plant large listening devices that would sample government transmissions and relay them back to her. I can’t think of any other packages we placed, and I can’t see her entrusting such a dangerous mission to anyone else. That has to be them.”

She grimaced at the distasteful thought.

“None of us knew they were virus bombs,” she said, disgusted with her prior subservience to a cruel mistress. “We should’ve known better, but we never questioned her.”

“Do you know where they were planted?” Milya asked.

Novera shook her head.

“I wasn’t one of the ones given the package,” she said. “And Ariada kept the information compartmentalized—only she and the deliverer knew where it was going, in case one of us was captured.”

Milya scowled.

“I know,” Novera said. “Believe me, if I knew where they were, I’d tell you.”

“What about the devices?” Milya asked. “Any details on the bombs themselves that might help us find them?”

Novera considered.

“They’re black cylinders about a meter and a half in length, half a meter in diameter,” she said. “With the appropriate antennas for receiving comm traffic and clamps for anchoring to the attachment points. Oh, and explosives packages. They have a self-destruct coupled to either a proximity sensor, or via comm signal.”

“Sounds typical,” Milya said. “Unfortunately, such a device could be hidden anywhere on Coruscant.”

“If I was Ariada, I’d put them somewhere with guaranteed dispersal,” Novera suggested. “Perhaps near an air filtration station?”

“The problem becomes that merely stumbling on one could release the virus,” Milya answered sourly. “Your information helps us know what to look for, and the knowledge that they have proximity sensors tells us that they’re somewhere out of the way since Ariada won’t want them accidentally going off, but that’s still not enough to coordinate a search.”

“Well, I can tell you this,” Novera told her. “If Ariada’s using it, it can be controlled from her sanctum on the Knightfall—her ship. She can activate or disarm them from there.”

“What about interfering with the communications so she can’t remotely arm the bombs?” Milya asked.

Novera shook her head.

“She had them piggybacked onto government transmissions. My guess is that stopping the signal would require virtually all outgoing transmissions from Coruscant to be jammed. Ariada might have left a comm buoy there to relay information also.”

“If they’re controlled by communications, she would have to decloak her ship to arm them,” Milya realized.

“Sure,” Novera said, not understanding the gravity of the situation.

“Thank you,” Milya told her. “You may have helped a great deal more than you think you have.”

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Novera asked.

Milya gave her a cryptic smile.

“Not yet,” she said. “We’ll talk again soon. In the meantime, start thinking about the layout of her ship.”


 * Knightfall

Jaina awoke with a start, eyes blinking open in surprise as her mind clawed out from unconsciousness. Pain shot through her retinas as she realized she was staring into a bright glowpanel. She quickly shut them again while her vision adjusted. As her senses returned to her, Jaina immediately noticed that she couldn’t touch the Force. It had been cut off from her, and she knew from past experience this was due to the dampening effects of a ysalamir.

Slowly, she took stock of her situation. She was lying spread-eagled on her back on some kind of hard bed, and her ankles and wrists were shackled to it with thick padded restraints, the kind that mental institutes used to keep their victims in place. Her Jedi robes and garments had been confiscated, replaced by what appeared to be a loose pajama shirt and pants. As far as she could tell, all of her weapons and the comm beacon had likewise been taken. Jaina felt another oddity—the sensation of monitors and probes attached to her arms and chest. Medical instruments.

Daring to squeeze her eyes open again, she looked away until her eyes adjusted, taking in her surroundings. She was alone, in an otherwise dark room. As she had suspected, an array of medical monitors had been set up behind her. Jaina tested her restraints, but they seemed quite secure, and without the Force, there wasn’t much she would gain out of struggling against them. She laid there for what seemed like an eternity for a Jedi Knight not renowned for her patience, but was actually closer to an hour by her count.

She was surprised when a thick door opened, admitting a slender Wroonian woman wearing a long black cassock. Jaina recognized her from the holocomm conversation as Ariada. The woman approached her and quickly checked the medical instruments.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said as Jaina’s eyes tracked her across the room. “And the therapy to deal with the side-effects of the carbonite freezing apparently worked since you can see me.”

“You must be Ariada,” Jaina said.

Ariada nodded.

“That I am,” she said politely. “Would you like something to eat? Perhaps a visit to the ‘fresher?”

Jaina frowned, surprised at her captor’s seeming hospitality.

“Why would you offer me that?” she asked.

Ariada arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“I gain nothing from treating you poorly,” she said. “I have no reason to mistreat you.”

“You could gain keeping me miserable or hoping to wear down my resistance to interrogation,” Jaina countered, knowing that Ariada also already knew this. “So what’s the deal?”

Ariada sighed.

“I need no information from you,” she said. “I merely need you here as leverage until my plans are complete. Once they’re done, I’ll let you go. Now, would you like to eat and walk around a bit, or should I leave you here?”

Jaina considered the matter, then decided to accept Ariada’s offer. There was no guarantee that they would be rescued soon, and if food and a chance to move around were offered, then all the better to keep up her strength.

“I could use a break,” she said.

“I thought you might say that,” Ariada told her, disconnecting the medical monitors.

The Wroonian clamped a pair of force-cuffs onto her wrists and ankles. Unlike standard models, these had longer tethers between them that allowed for greater range of motion and would stretch to reach her spread-eagled limbs. Once she was secure, Ariada loosened her wrist restraints.

“Sit up and hold your arms together,” Ariada instructed.

Jaina complied, and Ariada slid a collar on the tether, tightening it until Jaina had just barely any range of motion with her wrists, just enough to use her hands, but not enough to say, allow for a solid punch. Ariada repeated the process with her legs, helping Jaina off of the bed.

The Jedi Knight found that she could shuffle, but not run, meaning that Ariada wanted to keep her restrained, but also didn’t view her as that much of an escape threat. Jaina vowed to prove her estimate incorrect silently.

“This way,” Ariada said, leading her over to a table with a single chair.

Jaina sat down while Ariada brought her a platter of food. To Jaina’s surprise, it wasn’t prepackaged, and it smelled delicious. She recognized it as stuffed Bellassan peppers along with flatbread. Ariada produced a packet containing cheap—and dull—plastic utensils.

“Where would you like me to sample to prove it’s not poisoned?” Ariada asked mockingly. “Or can we move past such nonsense? If I wanted you drugged, I could have done it at any point after obtaining you.”

Jaina scowled; she had been tempted to make that point, but Ariada’s argument made sense. Instead, she broke open the packet and began eating. Though the force cuffs made things awkward, she managed. The food was in fact delicious, although she detected the faint sour of tang of a bit too much vitamin enrichment in the food. As she ate, Ariada placed a thin plastic glass of blue milk on the table for her. Jaina was discomfited by having the Wroonian watch her eat, but that came with captivity. Your captor did whatever they felt they needed to make sure you understood your predicament.

“Is it good?” Ariada asked.

“Yes,” Jaina replied. “Thank you.”

Thank you for helping keep me nourished until I break out and deal with you, Jaina thought silently, knowing that Ariada was as Force-blind as she was in the ysalamiri bubble.

“Good,” Ariada said.

When Jaina finished, she removed the platter, utensils, and cup.

“Refresher is that way,” she said. “Don’t make me come in after you if you want to keep that privilege.”

Once Jaina had returned from that particular errand, she found Ariada waiting expectantly for her. Now that she was up, Jaina was not eager to return to the bed. She stopped short and gave Ariada a questioning look in lieu of being able to cross her arms defiantly.

“All right, so what exactly do you want with me?” Jaina demanded.

“I told you,” Ariada answered coolly. “Leverage.”

The Wroonian had a masterful understanding of body language, judging by the fact that her nonverbal cues betrayed nothing. Without the Force, Jaina couldn’t ascertain the veracity of her words. A sudden thought came to her.

“And my family?”

“I have received word that they will be free soon,” Ariada answered. “All the more reason to keep you here, at least for now.”

Jaina scowled. Ariada was playing this a little too cavalier.

“What about Ryion? And Shara? Where are they?”

“They are fine,” Ariada assured her.

“I want to see Ryion,” Jaina said. “Prove it to me.”

Ariada arched an eyebrow.

“You’re not in a position to make demands.”

“And it doesn’t hurt you to show me some proof,” Jaina countered. “Doing otherwise would run contrary to your ‘amiable host’ routine.”

“You shouldn’t press me, Jedi Solo,” Ariada warned, but she nevertheless produced a datapad.

Activating it, she showed Jaina a holocam view that showed Ryion lying unconscious on a similar bed to the one she had recently vacated, down to the loose pajamas and the wrist and ankle restraints.

“Satisfied?” Ariada asked.

“For now,” Jaina muttered.

“Good,” Ariada said, gesturing to the bed. “You can go back on your own accord, or I can have you forced down. Your next meal and refresher visit hinge on your response.”

The Solo defiance welled up within her, and for a moment, Jaina nearly stood her ground. However, her sense of pragmatism got the best of her, and she acquiesced. It was better for her to play along with Ariada for now until a real escape opportunity presented itself, and having good food and a chance to walk around to stretch her muscles would help in that, not to mention the basic dignity of refresher visits. She climbed back up on the bed and laid down.

“Wise decision, Jedi Solo,” Ariada told her. “Keep this up, and I’ll see about allowing you a sanisteam as well.”

Once Jaina was secured back in place, the force cuffs removed and the restraints and monitors reattached, Ariada left her. Jaina felt distinctly uncomfortable about the whole thing. Ariada had been courteous, even hospitable, about the whole affair, a marked departure from her previous antagonism. Something was wrong and she knew it, but Jaina didn’t know what it was, but along with escaping, she vowed to also find out.


 * Yanibar

Akleyn Kraen entered the small bedroom that he and his wife shared in temporary quarters that had been erected near the evacuation site after a groundquake had claimed their house. It was a far cry from their former dwelling, with bare metal walls supported by trusswork instead of paneled siding and artwork, but they had made the best of it. Their furniture had largely been destroyed, so the shelves and cabinets of their house had been replaced by functional inelegant metal footlockers. The ceilings were also lower than he cared for, with a single glaring overhead glowpanel with only a single setting instead of the recessed softer lighting with variable output settings they had formerly enjoyed. The room was best described as functional, and little more.

He saw Qedai standing in the refresher rummaging through the tiny medicine cabinet. Instead of her civilian attire or even the earth-toned Elite Guardian tunic, trousers, and jacket, she was wearing a form-fitting matte black bodysuit. Akleyn recognized it easily; it was the underlayer for the specially-designed Elite Guardian combat armor. This was not something she normally she wore at home, and he was surprised to see her donning it now.

“Where are all your medicines?” she asked him.

“Excuse me?” Akleyn asked.

As a doctor of some renown and experience, he made a habit of storing a far larger arsenal of medical supplies and drugs on hand at his house than one might expect. However, this was the first time Qedai had ever asked him for his own supply without asking him to administer it.

“Your medicines; I’m going to need some of them.”

“Which ones?” Akleyn asked.

“Integrase inhibitors, entripodine, morpholino, and quinolone.”

Akleyn’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“May I ask why you’re collecting a regimen of my strongest antivirals and antibiotics which all happen to be controlled substances?”

“You can ask.”

Akleyn stepped over to an open satchel on their bed and began peering inside. There were two medpacs inside, along with several pouches of sterilized plasma and haemoglobin solutions, as well as a bundle of the stimulant-and-nutrient injections known as pick-me-ups favored by the Yanibar Guard for combat endurance. Tucked away in the back, Akleyn thought he saw his trauma kit and several thick expanding trauma bandages used to staunch bloodflow from major injuries.

“And which wartorn plague world are you going to?”

“You can ask,” she told him in the same light but firm manner.

Akleyn entered the refresher to find her standing with an injector in one hand, preparing to inject herself. She had a pained expression on her face and was holding the injector loosely, hesitating to administer it.

“I hate these things,” Qedai admitted.

“We both know you hate needles,” Akleyn added. “So. . . do you want to tell me what’s going and let me help, or shall I watch you suffer in silence?”

Qedai gritted her teeth.

“I can do this,” she insisted.

“You can,” Akleyn said mildly. “The question is, do you have to?”

“Fine,” she said. “Just do this for me so I don’t have to look.”

Akleyn took the injector from her, laying its tip against the pull-away patch on the underside of her arm that had been placed there for such a purpose; it was one of five on the suit. Flicking her bicep, he quickly found a vein.

“Relax and breathe,” he told her, administering the injection.

“Three more where that came from,” she said, nodding to the counter.

“As your doctor, what’s in these?” he asked.

"Haemoglobin, nutrient cocktail D, immunomix 17, and stovastin. The first one was jorizul.”

“Is there a reason you’re having me inject you with an anti-radiation drug, an immunobooster, and an awareness-enhancer along with general endurance and stamina enhancers?” Akleyn inquired.

“Yes.”

Akleyn held up the last injector.

“So why the secrecy?” he asked. “I’ve known about your missions before, so what’s so special about this one? It’s not like I can’t keep the secret, and your regs don’t forbid it.”

“I just. . .”

“Can’t tell me?” he finished. “Come on, you can do better than that.”

Qedai was silent. Akleyn sighed and administered the last injector to his wife. If she wasn’t going to be forthcoming, he decided that a little deductive reasoning might suffice to explain her mysteriousness.

“For maximum effectiveness and minimized side-effects in Twi’leks, jorizul is usually administered in a week-long therapy that ramps up the dose with each successive injection. Most of these can likewise be ramped up to acclimate the body to the therapy. This is the first and lowest dose. That tells me that you’re not anticipating immediate exposure to an irradiated zone or you would have gone with a higher initial dosage. The medications you’ve selected suggest that you also anticipate contagion as well as exposure to ionizing radiation in addition to a physically demanding environment. Given the rest of what you’ve packed in that satchel, I’d say you were also preparing for severe trauma.”

He discarded the injector tip along the rest of the other ones, producing a puncture-proof biohazard bag to hold the waste as he continued.

“The most likely inference is that you are going to fight on a wartorn plague world. The second most likely is that you plan on fighting onboard a plague ship or space station that you intend to systematically destroy, thus the need for anti-rad meds.”

He turned to face Qedai, who was staring at him impassively.

“So which is it?”

She scowled and turned aside.

“I can’t tell you, Akleyn,” she muttered.

Akleyn crossed his arms.

“It’s a rescue mission,” he added. “You wouldn’t bring that many pick-me-ups or trauma bandages for one person, and a team would have their own supply. It’s also not a rescue mission launching directly from Yanibar, or you wouldn’t need my stash. You’re anticipating that the people you’re rescuing are hurt or infected.”

He put a finger to his chin thoughtfully.

“Now, if I were a betting man—,”

“That’s not fair, you count cards when you play sabacc,” Qedai interjected.

“It’s legal,” Akleyn countered, then returned to his original train of thought. “I would surmise that the target is a ship or space station belonging to Ariada and that she has prisoners. Valuable ones, too, I’m guessing—she wouldn’t take any other kind.”

Qedai’s scowl deepened.

“Did you already know?” she demanded.

“No,” Akleyn answered truthfully, “but it was the only logical conclusion.”

“Sometimes you’re too insightful for your own good,” Qedai told him sourly.

“So I’m right then?”

She sighed.

“Is that really such a surprise?”

Akleyn shrugged lightly.

“I suppose not. What is a surprise is that my loving wife would make me infer the details instead of just simply telling me.”

She placed one red hand on his chest and smiled sadly.

“Because I was trying to protect you,” she said.

“From what?”

“Yourself,” Qedai told him. “Because if you knew the details, you would want to come along. And I didn’t want you to risk yourself.”

Akleyn began slotting new injector tips on the injectors, retrieving vials from the medicine cabinet.

“Correction,” he said mildly. “I am coming along.”

“Now wait just a minute,” she interrupted.

“Let’s see,” Akleyn said to himself. “I’ll need to adjust the jorizol and haemoglobin doses, skip the stovastin, and switch to immunobooster 11 and nutrient cocktail A.”

“Akleyn, I think you made a hyperspace jump without checking the navicomp!” she said. “We didn’t agree that you were coming on this mission.”

“What mission?” he asked. “The one you’re not telling me about?”

Qedai set her teeth.

“This is serious, Akleyn,” she told him. “It’s best for you to sit this one out.”

“Oh, really?” he responded acerbically. “A mission targeting a rogue darksider who escaped the most secure prisoner on Yanibar is serious? Tell me something new.”

Qedai started to reply, but Akleyn wasn’t finished.

“Judging by the medical equipment you’re bringing along, you’re anticipating some serious casualties,” he told her. “Now, how is it ‘best’ for me, a trained medical doctor with experience dealing with trauma and a holographic memory and the best damn surgeon on Yanibar to ‘sit this one out’?”

She was silent, arms crossed in silent irritation.

“Moreover, I’m guessing I know the prisoners Ariada took, which is why you’re trying to insulate me from that fact. Is it Selu? Milya? Shara?”

Her lip twitched fractionally.

“I’m getting closer, aren’t I? How about Morgedh?”

“Morgedh’s dead,” she said flatly. “Ariada has Ryion, Shara, and a Jedi named Jaina Solo. I’m meeting up with Selu and Milya to go after her. The ship they’re on will need all their medical supplies for an upcoming assault elsewhere, so they asked me to bring extra.”

“I’m sorry to hear about Morgedh,” Akleyn answered regretfully. “But I still think I should come along. It sounds to me like my skillset is exactly what you need.”

“It sounds to me like it’s far too dangerous,” Qedai told him firmly.

“For who? Because it sounds like I could help the prisoners, and if that’s your rescue party, I’d rather have the three of you taking bad guys apart instead of putting the good ones back together. Plays to your strengths. Qedai, you may not want to believe it, but you need me on this one. Let me help.”

He laid his hands on her arms, his tone softening to a soft plea.

“Please.”

Qedai pursed her lips together.

“Akleyn, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t either,” he answered. “But I’m willing to risk it to help Ryion and Shara. You need to let me make that risk if it’s the better decision—for everyone.”

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Releasing the breath, she found the strength to make eye contact.

“All right,” she acceded. “But when we’re on the mission, you do what we say.”

“Absolutely.”

“And no wild heroics.”

“Of course not.”

“Not even if I get hurt.”

Akleyn frowned skeptically.

“Are you going to make that same promise?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Qedai replied without skipping a beat.

“I didn’t think so,” he said. “But I love you anyway.”

She wrapped her arms around him.

“I love you too.”


 * Zonama Sekot

Zeyn gathered the rest of his meager pile of belongings from the Yuuzhan Vong encampment. As far as he could tell, they were undisturbed. Nevertheless, he checked them thoroughly for any sign of tracking creatures. In the event he returned to Yanibar, he’d be required to go through a thorough decontamination process, but he took the precautions anyway—his distrust of the Yuuzhan Vong lingered.

Satisfied, he collected the rest of his belongings. Twilight had set in on Zonama Sekot and the Yuuzhan Vong had lit their encampment with strange bioluminescent creatures. Zeyn was tired and preoccupied with mulling over the questions Niull Shac had posed to him back at the assassin’s ship. Adding to that, a long day’s hike and the brief combat had left his wrist, gut, and ankle throbbing. Biting his lip to get past the discomfort, he hobbled through the camp until he found Niull Shac, who was sitting at a brazier, picking pieces of piping hot meat out of the coals and chowing down. The aged Yuuzhan Vong caught sight of his approach and rose from his meal.

“You wish to speak with me?” the Yuuzhan Vong asked.

“Yes,” Zeyn said, gesturing aside.

Niull Shac followed as Zeyn led him to the outskirts of the camp. Neither one made any attempt to speak. Zeyn was still wrestling with the difficult decisions he had to make, while Niull Shac wisely made no attempt to press him. Finally, Zeyn stopped and turned to face the warrior.

“Seeing the Yuuzhan Vong as anything but an enemy is difficult for me,” he said slowly. “I never thought I would ask one for help.”

Niull Shac made no answer, letting him finish whatever thoughts were on his mind.

“My people, we talk about healing the harms done to the galaxy and acting in selfless, humble servitude,” Zeyn continued. “We talk about seeking peace and justice for everyone.”

He paused, mustering his courage for what he had to say next. He had agonized for hours over the decision, his resentment and distrust battling against his sense of pragmatism and his Jedi training, as well as his Lorrdian heritage that told him Niull Shac was sincere. In the end, he had been forced to a conclusion that would have shocked a less desperate version of himself. He would have to trust the Yuuzhan Vong.

“It’s about time I backed up what I claim to believe,” he said. “Niull Shac, I would be grateful for any assistance you and your people could render.”

In an act that Zeyn was sure had never been offered by any citizen of Yanibar to a Yuuzhan Vong, he extended his hand to Niull Shac. The Yuuzhan Vong regarded him for several long seconds, then took Zeyn’s hand in a crushing grip.

“And I would be glad to offer it,” Niull Shac replied with the toothy grimace that passed for a smile among the Yuuzhan Vong.

“I can’t guarantee my people will be as receptive,” Zeyn warned him. “If you can help me get back to them, I’ll do my best to convince them, but it won’t be easy. No promises.”

Niull Shac’s grin broadened.

“Ease is not the way of the warrior, Zeyn,” he said.

Zeyn nodded.

“When will your people be ready?” he asked.

Niull Shac shrugged.

“We can fly as early as tomorrow. The shapers have been making preparations and we can ready a ship quickly.”

“Good. No offense, but I’m ready to be off this rock.”

Niull Shac’s eyes narrowed.

“I can see how it would not be to your liking.”

“To each their own,” Zeyn answered. “I’d be surprised if we had similar tastes.”

Niull Shac nodded in agreement.

“What of Danni Quee?” he asked suddenly. “Will she be accompanying you?”

Zeyn stiffened.

“That,” he said curtly. “Is up to her. I’ll see you in the morning when we head to the ship. Also, make sure your people are away from my ship. I’ll be activating its self-destruct before we leave.”

As he had no desire to continue any conversation involving her further, he turned and hobbled off. Returning to his crude bed at the encampment, he gratefully settled down for the night. Sleep did not come easily to him, though, despite his fatigue. Lingering aches and pains combined with seeing alternately Niull Shac, Ariada, and Danni Quee in his mind’s eye did their best to delay the onset of slumber, so it was late in the night when he finally succumbed to his weariness. To his surprise and annoyance, it was the latter’s face that disturbed him the most.

The next morning came early for him, and he awoke to the sounds of the Yuuzhan Vong clearing their camp. Zeyn stretched as he arose, stiff and sore. The Force helped alleviate some of the discomfort, but he still wasn’t strong enough to shrug off the discomfort completely. Buckling on his armor and gear, he ate a ration pack that he had poached from the assassin’s ship rather than taking a risk on Yuuzhan Vong cuisine.

Within an hour, Niull Shac approached him as he finished packing up for the long hike ahead of him.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I am,” Zeyn said. “Are your people clear of my ship?”

“All of our shapers are out of the contaminated zone,” Niull Shac informed him.

“Good,” Zeyn replied. “You might want to double check, because I’m about to destroy about a hundred square meters around it.”

The words seemed strange, the fact that he was showing concern over the possibility of Yuuzhan Vong casualties. Zeyn reminded himself that the fact that they were Yuuzhan Vong didn’t supersede their status as innocent civilians whom he had no quarrel with. Another strange notion.

Niull Shac stalked off to confirm and once he had returned and given Zeyn his assurances, the Elite Guardian retrieved his comlink and sent the transmission. A few seconds later, a thin plume of smoke rose in the distance.

“It’s done,” Zeyn told him. “Ready to leave when you are.”

If Niull Shac noticed that he made no mention of Danni, he shrewdly said nothing of it. Personally, Zeyn hoped to avoid her entirely. He had apologized for his harsh words, but though she had apologized to him, he had not entirely forgiven her. The divulging of his refuge’s plight to the Yuuzhan Vong had been a bitter betrayal, and while Zeyn had enjoyed her company prior, the incident had left a sour taste in his mouth. Despite the fact that she was the only other human in the camp, he had made no attempt to speak with her since their return from the assassin’s ship, or even during the long hike back. Part of him told him that he was acting like a child. Given that her admission might actually—although he reminded himself that this was a major stretch of optimism—help his people in their evacuation, he was being a fool for spurning her. Yet at the same time, his pride and his indignation were not easily abandoned, not even for an intelligent, tough, and good-looking young. . . scientist, Zeyn reminded himself. Easier to keep her out of his mind that way. She had been an objective to protect, and now that his mission was complete with the removal of the threat to her life, nothing more. He scowled at the thought as he walked across the remains of the camp behind Niull Shac.

“Zeyn,” he heard someone call him.

Of course it would be her. He turned stiffly to see her walking toward him. Once again, she had contrived to clean herself off and the morning sun illuminated her hair. Zeyn mentally cursed himself for even noticing, but he couldn’t help it. Instead, he signaled Niull Shac to continue on without him.

“Good morning,” he said evenly.

“Where are you going?” she asked, noting the pack he was wearing.

“If Niull Shac can be trusted, home,” he answered. “I have accepted his offer to transport me back in the assassin’s ship with the help of a Yuuzhan Vong vessel.”

Her eyes brightened.

“That’s great,” she said. “And your people?”

Zeyn fumed inwardly at her curiosity, but since she had been the one to deliver their need to the Yuuzhan Vong, he owed her an explanation.

“If Niull Shac keeps his word and I get back safely, I’ll do my best to convince my people to accept their offer. It won’t be easy, but maybe they’ll be desperate enough to listen.”

“I’m sure you’ll convince them.”

“We’ll see.”

She took a tentative step forward.

“And what about me?”

Zeyn arched an eyebrow.

“You? You saw it yourself yesterday—the threat to your life is over, at least for now. With the Yuuzhan Vong and Sekot aware of the threat Ariada poses, I’m sure you’ll be safe. You don’t answer to me—and if you did earlier, you don’t anymore.”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, then her eyes flicked back to his.

“So I’m free to do as I like?”

Zeyn gave her an appraising look.

“You always have been. That’s why you were here in the first place, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“Zeyn, I may be as free, but that’s not enough this time.”

He frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m not much for clinging or chasing, Zeyn,” she told him. “That’s not who I am, but. . . I’m also not big on letting chances like this walk away, and I see that happening in front of me. So. . .”

She took a deep breath.

“Now that it’s come to this, I have to ask. If I said I wanted to come with you, to be with you, would you want me?”

Zeyn blinked in surprise.

“You would want that?” he blurted out before he could help himself.

Danni shrugged.

“You make me feel safe, Zeyn. You take care of me, but you don’t patronize me. You see me as who I am, flaws and all. Can you still accept me?”

Part of him wanted to smirk at her condescendingly, to remind her of the betrayal she had subjected him to, the hardship and suffering he had endured on her behalf. That part of him told him to mock her for even daring to suggest such a thing, but that instinct was consumed and obliterated by a stronger voice in his mind. A voice that said she too was worth a chance. That told him that she intrigued him, captivated his interest in a way unique to her. It said he was in as much of a danger of letting her slip away as she was of losing him. And it was that voice he listened to.

“I can,” he said.

Her shoulders slumped in relief.

“I thought. . . the way you acted after you woke up, that you resented me,” she said, seemingly as surprised as he was.

“I did,” Zeyn admitted. “I was wrong.”

Now it was his turn to take a step closer until they were only a pace apart. She looked up at him, staring into his eyes as if looking for clues on his face.

“So was I,” she told him. “But we both know that. The question is, do you forgive me?”

Zeyn took her hands in his and leaned in so his forehead was resting against hers. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on him and he knew that for them to have any future together, they had to put this behind them forever.

“I do,” he whispered. “I nearly walked away from you, and I would have made a terrible mistake.”

That close, her green eyes seemed huge, engulfing his field of vision.

“And I nearly let you,” she said.

“Proving that both of us have a lot to learn,” Zeyn answered with a wry smile.

He shifted his head slightly to whisper in her ear.

“You asked me something earlier,” he said. “If I wanted you.”

“Yes?” she asked, and he felt her hands tremble in his.

Zeyn kissed her softly by way of reply. His lips brushed against her upper lip in a light nip. It was a delicate, tentative kiss, as he was unsure how she would receive it. He broke apart enough to judge her reaction by her facial expression. Her eyes widened as if she’d been shocked and then she leaned forward with a look that told him enough. Their lips met in full contact as he drew her close and held her against him, a kiss that said both of them were tired of wrestling with their feelings, tired of guessing how the other felt, and most of all, expressed the bottled up feelings they had been afraid to convey. Zeyn chose not to prolong the kiss, not wanting to overstep his bounds and Danni seemed to agree with his decision as they mutually parted.

“I’m glad we can talk again,” she told him.

“Me too,” Zeyn said. “I’m even happier that we can move forward.”

“So am I.”

She smiled.

“When do we leave?”

“Soon,” Zeyn told her. “You should pack.”

She indicated his still-dirty appearance.

“You should clean up. It’s a long flight back to Yanibar.”

He smiled in spite of himself.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Where’d you find the watering hole?”

“Downslope from the cave about half a klick,” Danni replied.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

He gave her a parting smile and walked off. Five minutes ago, she had been the last person he’d wanted to talk to. The conversation had happened anyway and, to his pleasant surprise, had exceeded his wildest expectations. He sauntered off with a spring in his step that came from a heart suddenly lightened of a heavy burden.


 * Yanibar

“Rhiannon!” a familiar voice called her name.

Rhiannon turned as her cousin Jasika Knrr came running up to embrace her firmly. She was standing outside one of the popular cafés that she and Jasika had used to visit often after work, twenty years earlier. It was much as she remembered it, and revisiting those old sounds and smells brought a pang of nostalgia back to her heart.

“Sorry it took us so long to get back,” Jasika said. “There were. . . issues on Bespin.”

“What kind of issues?” Rhiannon asked as Jasika released her, allowing her husband, Bryndar, to give Rhiannon a welcoming hug as well.

Jasika pursed her lips.

“It’s not something you should know about,” Bryndar said.

“Bryn, she knew him as well as we did, if not better. He saved her life. She deserves to know,” Jasika argued.

“Know about what?” Rhiannon interjected.

Jasika laid a hand on her arm sympathetically.

“It’s Morgedh,” she told her despite the warning look from Bryndar. “He. . . he’s gone.”

“What?” Rhiannon exclaimed in shock. “Sarth and Cassi didn’t mention anything about it. . .”

“They probably didn’t want to upset you further,” Jasika replied. “It’s true. He was in an auxiliary Tibanna refining station when Ariada attacked. It appears the self-destruct was activated. . . he didn’t survive.”

Horror was etched on Rhiannon’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Jasika told her. “I knew he was a special friend of yours.”

“Who’s Morgedh?” Tavin asked from where he’d been standing patiently at his mother’s side.

“Morgedh was one of the refuge’s most powerful warriors,” Bryndar explained. “A long time ago, he saved your mother’s life. He was her unofficial bodyguard for many years.”

A tear spilled from Rhiannon’s unseeing eyes and she wiped it away quickly.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said sorrowfully. “The last time this kind of tragedy happened was when I was a little girl.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Jasika admitted regretfully.

“No, thank you for telling me,” Rhiannon said, fighting against the ache welling up in her chest.

She had returned to the Yanibar refuge to seek peace and inner clarity, but it had been a bittersweet homecoming. Her aunt and uncle had been attacked and she was still in shock at the idea of the reticent Noghri warrior, an implacable protector of the refuge, somehow being dead. Instead of peace and quiet contemplation, she was being met with grief even as she was reunited with her family and old friends.

“Here, let’s sit down,” Jasika said, ushering her to a table and ordering drinks for them.

Over several cups of steaming chocolate, Rhiannon, Tavin, Jasika, and Bryndar talked quietly, reminiscing about Morgedh mostly. When they could bear to talk of him no more, the conversation eventually shifted to daily happenings. Jasika and Bryndar talked about the challenges and opportunities of running Bexpress Shipping after Bryndar’s parents, the previous owners, had stayed on Atlaradis during their initial voyage there. The company was close to being sold, and though events on Bespin had put a wrinkle in their plans, they were nearly ready to part with it. Jasika and Bryndar spoke regretfully of the decision, knowing that they were going somewhere better.

“We’ll miss it,” Jasika concluded. “I don’t know what kind of shipping Atlaradis will need, but I can’t imagine it’ll be the same as wandering the spacelanes.”

“We made friends on Bespin that will be hard to leave behind,” Bryndar added.

“How do you handle leaving them, knowing that you won’t see them again?” Rhiannon asked.

Jasika shrugged.

“Keep your eyes forward,” she said. “Atlaradis is the future for our people, and that’s where we look.”

“I wish it was that easy for me,” Rhiannon answered sadly.

“She wasn’t being literal,” Bryndar remarked, thinking Rhiannon’s consternation was due to Jasika’s use of eyesight as a figure of speech.

“Oh, I know she wasn’t,” Rhiannon assured him. “It’s just that. . . the Draskar community is not going to Atlaradis.”

“You’re not serious,” Jasika said.

“I’m afraid she is,” Tavin put in. “The representatives from Naos made a compelling argument and a lucrative offer. That’s where the majority voted to go.”

“And the Outsiders have never been keen on trusting us,” Bryndar added.

“This is absurd,” Jasika said. “Surely your family isn’t bound by any agreement just because the rest of them want to go somewhere else.”

“No, nothing like that,” Rhiannon said. “And yet. . .”

Jasika nodded as she realized Rhiannon’s reluctance.

“Those are the people you’ve lived with for the last twenty years,” she finished for her cousin.

Rhiannon nodded.

“My oldest son, Tamaron, is engaged to one of them. My daughter is seeing someone. These are the people that my family is the closest to.”

Jasika squeezed her hand.

“I see your dilemma,” she said sympathetically. “Are you back to say goodbye?”

“I. . . I don’t know,” Rhiannon admitted miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

Bryndar and Jasika exchanged looks. Finally, Bryndar looked back at Rhiannon.

“It would be incredibly selfish of us to ask you and your family to leave an entire life behind,” Bryndar said.

“Whatever you do, Rhiannon, we’ll support you,” Jasika added firmly.

“Thank you—thank you both,” Rhiannon said. “I just don’t know if I can face the thought of never seeing you—or anyone else from the refuge again.”

They sat in silence for some time, deep in thought. Jasika and Bryndar knew that Rhiannon was burdened by the recent bad news as well as her conflict, but there was little more they could say to help her. Rhiannon was indeed trying to sort out the chaotic emotions roiling in her mind, while Tavin was his same quiet, attentive self.

Finally, Rhiannon broke the silence.

“Tavin, what time is it?” she asked.

“1625,” he answered, checking his chrono.

“Oh my,” Rhiannon said. “I’m sorry, I have to run. My parents are supposed to check in with Sarth and Cassi in five minutes and I was going to speak with them.”

“And we need to pick up little Nate,” Jasika said. “He should be out of school by now.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Rhiannon added.

Jasika smiled.

“We’ll make sure to stop by again before you make your decision. How long are you here for?”

“Three weeks at the most,” Rhiannon said.

“Then definitely we’ll see you again,” Jasika told her. “As much as possible.”

They parted ways, with Jasika and Bryndar leaving to pick up their son, while Tavin and Rhiannon returned to Sarth and Cassi’s house. The door was unlocked, so they entered, making their way through the house to the back room where Sarth and Cassi were standing in front of a holoprojector, which was projecting a full-size holo of Selu and Milya.

“I’ve been able to maintain the astral projection for up to half an hour now,” Cassi was telling Milya. “It’s very tiring.”

Milya nodded.

“Longest I’ve ever done it was a couple hours,” she said. “Though I suspect it’ll be easier on Atlaradis.”

Sarth quietly beckoned Rhiannon and Tavin forward into the holocam’s field of view.

“Hi, Mom,” Rhiannon answered shyly, a considerable amount of little girl in her voice.

“Rhiannon!” Milya replied.

Selu grinned.

“Well, if it isn’t my little sweetheart, come back to visit.”

“Good to hear from you too, Dad,” Rhiannon said, smiling at his antics.

“I’m just sorry we couldn’t be there in person,” Selu added seriously. “How long are you Inside?”

“Another three weeks,” Rhiannon answered. “That’ll be cutting it close.”

“We will try our hardest to finish up this business out here and come back to visit you,” Milya said.

“Do what you have to,” she told them. “The galaxy isn’t saving itself.”

Selu stretched his holographic hand towards that of his daughter in the simulacrum of gently brushing his fingers along her cheek. Cassi helped plant the image in Rhiannon’s mind so she knew what he was doing and she smiled in response.

“Your mother and I want to be there when you have to make your decision,” Selu said. “And whatever you decide, we’ll support you. We always will.”

Milya nodded stiffly, unwilling to verbally admit the possibility of Rhiannon leaving.

“Dear, I’m sorry, but there’s something else you should know,” Milya said. “It’s about Morgedh.”

Rhiannon nodded sadly.

“Jasika told me.”

“It’s been hard on all of us,” Milya answered. “Still can’t believe he’s gone.”

Selu heaved a sigh.

“When we return, we’ll hold a ceremony for him in the Hall of Remembrance, right before we pack it up for the trip to Atlaradis. We’d be honored if you could be there.”

“If I can, I’ll be there,” Rhiannon said.

“He would have liked that,” Milya added. “He always felt like he had to look after you.”

Rhiannon smiled.

“He was the one who was always fixing things, driving off predators, and generally being helpful unseen.”

Milya nodded.

“It was his idea of a good time.”

“He loved to look after people,” Selu agreed. “We’ll miss him—and you, should you choose to go to Naos.”

“I know, Dad,” she said. “What should I do?”

“What your heart tells you,” he answered firmly. “Make the decision that you feel is right—not based on what other people might think.”

“But I might never get to be with you again,” Rhiannon pointed out.

“That’s not exactly true,” Selu admitted. “Milya. . . you should tell her.”

“I’ve learned a technique called Force projection,” Milya said. “It allows me to create apparitions of myself. They can interact with the physical realm briefly. . . I can’t maintain them for long, but long enough to visit you.”

“Cassi and I know the technique also,” Selu added.

“There’s also something called the Oracle on Atlaradis,” Milya told her. “I don’t know if it’ll help, but it allowed Cassi and me to talk to Spectre. It might let us communicate with you.”

“The planet is very strong in the Force,” Selu said. “In time, we might even be able to have an entire evening with our daughter.” Rhiannon frowned.

“You’re talking as if you already know what my choice is,” she pointed out.

“We’re telling you that it’s okay to go with him and the rest of your family,” Selu said. “That we won’t lose you forever. In time, we’ll find a way for Ryion and Jasika to talk to you as well.”

“And that is a great comfort to me,” Rhiannon admitted, feeling relief wash over her. “Where is Ryion anyway?”

When next they spoke after several seconds of silence, Selu’s and Milya’s voices were grim.

“Your brother is in some trouble right now,” Selu revealed. “We’re going to help him.”

“We’ll bring him back,” Milya promised.

“All right, Mom,” Rhiannon said, having learned from long experience to take her parents at their word when it came to security matters.

“What about you, Tavin?” Selu asked his grandson. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think?”

“I’ve seen the paintings of Atlaradis, and they look magnificent,” he said. “I’m as puzzled as you must have been when the Draskar community refused to go there. Then again, after being Inside, I don’t understand why anyone would leave.”

“Your mother did, for the one reason that bypasses pretty much any circumstance,” Selu told him. “Love.”

He nodded.

“And now I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Milya turned her head as if speaking to someone out of the holocam’s view on her end.

“We have to go,” she said regretfully. “Duty calls.”

“We’ll be home soon with your brother,” Selu told her. “We love you, Rhiannon.”

“I love you too, Mom, Dad,” she said. “See you both soon.”

Then the hologram dissipated.