Force Exile VI: Prodigal/Part 7

15
Zeyn led the way into the cave, Danni following along behind him. His sides were on fire from two hours of virtually non-stop running, adrenaline and the Force keeping him moving, away from the horrific slaughterhouse of the village. Danni was barely upright, completely fatigued from the exertion and gasping for breath.

“In here,” Zeyn told her tersely as he entered, holding his carbine one-handed with the glowlamp activated as he led them into the cave.

His left wrist was throbbing inside the crude improvised splint, but he knew that they weren’t out of danger yet. His boots splashed as he stepped down into water and the rays from his glowrod swept through a fine mist circulating above the cave.

“Hold up,” Zeyn said.

Advancing cautiously, he checked the depth of the water, which increased with every step. The first step had swallowed his ankles. Three more left him submerged up to his knees. Five steps in, he was wading at waist level. The water was cold, but not unbearably so. The humid air of Zonama Sekot mixing with the chilled water was no doubt responsible for the mist. Zeyn took one more cautious step, but found a shelf along one rocky wall which the water stayed about a meter deep.

“This way,” he told her. “It’s going to be cold.”

As she made her way over to him, Zeyn swept his blaster’s barrel with the affixed glowrod around the cavern. Its smooth walls were in the shape of a shallow arch twenty meters into the cave, no doubt due to the steady erosion of the water. There was no telling how far back it went. A few stalactites protruded here and there, while the sides and floor and ceiling were fairly smooth. The light from his glowrod diffusing through the water was reflected back onto the walls and ceiling in chaotic tendrils that undulated and writhed with each passing second.

“Get behind me,” he instructed Danni.

She wordlessly scooted around him, following the rock shelf as she waded to his left side, giving him a clear view of the entrance. Zeyn put his back on the wall, following its slight curve, and sighted in on the mouth of the cave.

“Do you know far back this goes?” he asked her.

“Not far,” she said. “It widens out about another dozen meters up. I’ve been here once before.”

“Is there any other way in?”

She shook her head.

“No,” she said. “This is the only way in or out.”

“Well, at least we know which way she’ll come for us from,” Zeyn remarked acerbically.

“Can you hide us again, like you did last night?”

“No,” Zeyn answered shortly, his strength depleted.

Just getting here had been taxing enough.

“So what now?” Danni asked, having finally caught her breath.

“We wait,” Zeyn said. “I doubt we can run much farther tonight, and I’m not taking my chances in the tampasi being hunted.”

“Do you think we’re being hunted?” Danni asked.

Zeyn was silent, his mind running through various tactical scenarios as he kept a vigilant eye on the cave’s entrance.

“I suppose that’s a stupid question; I’m sorry,” Danni answered.

She began rummaging through her pack, retrieving a pair of protein bars.

“You should have one of these,” she told him.”

“You eat,” Zeyn told her. “I have to keep watch on the entrance and my left hand isn’t useable right now.”

Danni wordlessly unwrapped one of the bars and held it up to his lips. Zeyn took the hint and bit off a chunk, savoring the sweet taste. His stomach growled as his body caught whiff of possible nourishment and demanded more. Danni allowed him to chew and then peeled back more of the wrapper so he could take another bite, continuing the process until he had finished. She held up the canteen as well so he could drink, but Zeyn only allowed himself to sip the water instead of gulping it down so he could maintain his watch. Once he’d finished, she dug into her own protein bar. Zeyn kept his sights trained in on the cave’s mouth, but neither saw nor heard anything other than Danni slurping water from the canteen and chewing bites of her protein bar.

“Thank you,” Zeyn said in a whisper.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “It’s the least I could do.”

“No,” Zeyn shook his head. “After what happened back there, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” Danni answered. “I just felt the Force surge up within me, in a way I haven’t felt it in many years. I felt. . . compelled to act, like the power had suddenly flowed into me and I had to use it.”

“You saved my life,” Zeyn told her.

“We’re saving each other,” Danni reminded him.

They fell silent again by mutual unspoken agreement. Zeyn maintained his vigil on the dark entrance of the cave, his senses alert, while Danni leaned back against the cave wall, trying to take some of the weight off her tired feet.

“At first the water felt nice on my toes, but now it’s just chilling,” she said.

“Don’t sit down,” Zeyn replied. “It’ll just sap your strength faster. You can stay close to me if that keeps you warmer.”

She huddled up against his back, careful not to brush his injured left wrist.

“Did you ever think it would end like this?” she asked him in a hoarse whisper.

Zeyn arched an eyebrow.

“Hmm?”

“On a strange world, far from home, pursued by a ruthless enemy,” Danni said. “Is that how you pictured your life ending?”

“We’re not dead yet,” Zeyn answered after considering the matter for several seconds. “No reason to think like that.”

Danni rested her head against his back and contemplated for another several seconds.

“If you get a chance to escape, you should leave me,” she said. “Return to your people—talk to your mother again. Tell her you love her.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Zeyn answered firmly. “We go together.”

“You have another life out there waiting for you, Zeyn,” she said. “You should spend it with the people who love you, with your family. Don’t waste it on me.”

“It’s not a waste,” he told her. “My orders are to protect you, and that is what I am going to do.”

“Your orders aren’t doing you very much good out here,” Danni answered. “Zeyn, if you see an opening, I want you to take it. You’ll have a better chance on your own than trying to protect me.”

“Danni, I appreciate the gesture, but I did not come all this way to give up now,” he replied sternly. “I will complete my mission.”

“At what cost?” she asked. “I keep thinking of your mother—how she might never have a chance to reconcile with you.”

Zeyn tensed.

“You shouldn’t spend your thoughts on my mother,” he answered stiffly.

“Someone should,” she said. “Zeyn, I want you to promise me to speak with her when you return to Yanibar.”

Zeyn growled.

“That is not a fair request,” he grumbled. “You do not know my mother.”

“I’ll go with you,” she offered. “Then I’ll get to know her.”

“Then you have to stay alive,” he pointed out. “No self-sacrificing heroics.”

“I guess you’ll have to get both of us to Yanibar alive,” she replied. “Promise?”

Zeyn sighed.

“I promise,” he said, if only to get her to drop the subject. “Though I can’t guarantee it’ll be on Yanibar.”

“Does your mother live somewhere else?”

“She might by the time we get back,” Zeyn answered grimly. “Yanibar is a doomed world.”

“I’m sorry,” Danni said. “Did Ariada contaminate it?”

“Not Ariada. The Yuuzhan Vong,” Zeyn said. “You’re familiar with their use of dovin basals to alter the orbits of moons.”

Danni blanched.

“Zeyn, I’m so sorry,” she said.

“We found it in time to keep the moon from colliding with Yanibar, but the destabilized orbit amplified the moon’s gravitational effects. The planet is nearly uninhabitable and my people are in the process of evacuating.”

He glanced over at her, then sighed.

“It’s not going well,” he admitted, feeling that opening up to her helped ease the emotional burden of knowing the dilemma that Yanibar faced.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are your people looking for a new home?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “Last I talked to my uncle, who’s in charge of the process, the evacuation ships we built are having a hard time getting off of the ground fully loaded,” Zeyn answered. “There isn’t enough power or thrust to get everyone off, and if we can’t lift off fully loaded. . . we won’t be able to bring everyone.”

“I’m sure your people will find a way,” Danni answered. “If they’re anything like you, I have every reason to be confident in their future.”

He fell silent, accepting the compliment at face value. Nothing stirred around them as they hid in their cave. Several minutes ticked by.

“You should get some sleep,” Zeyn told her. “I know it’s hard in this water, but at least close your eyes and rest.”

“Good idea,” Danni replied. “I don’t think I could run another kilometer.”

Zeyn nodded grimly at the cave’s entrance.

“There won’t be any running this time if we’re found,” he said. “Only one way in or out. We fight or die.”


 * Yanibar

The stalks of the deyna grain were dry as she brushed her hand through them. The wind whipped across the plains, stirring the stalks as if they were a wave in a stormy ocean. She knelt down to touch the ground, feeling the hardened, cracking dirt. It was only a few weeks before the harvest, and the deyna was in danger of burning up from the parching heat—assuming that a groundquake didn’t swallow it or a thunderstorm didn’t ignite a prairie fire. The success of this last growing season hinged on Yanibar’s weather, already inhospitable before Yorbinal’s orbit had been altered, now rendered outright fierce. They’d already lost most of the spelt to a violent hailstorm. Such was the lot of a farmer’s wife.

She straightened, allowing the wind to tug at the ponytail she’d tied her long brown hair into, as she remembered her first expeditions into the wide expanses of Yanibar beyond the refuge over twenty-one years ago. The years of living on the rugged exterior, lacking the shelter of the refuge and its weather control machines, had taken their toll on her, and her once-flawless complexion had been supplanted by skin aged and worn by arid heat, furrowed with wrinkles and crow’s feet.

She heard another set of footsteps crunch through the field toward her, and the heavier footfall told her who it was. She let him approach to stand behind her, his arms encircling her waist.

“What are you doing out here, Rhinny?” her husband asked.

“I wanted to know how the deyna was doing,” she replied, resting her head on his broad chest. “I wanted to know what we’d have to bring with us for the trip into the refuge.”

“About that,” Kavlis Burke replied hesitantly. “Just received word that the final votes have been tallied. The majority decided to go to Naos.”

Rhiannon frowned, clearly disturbed by the news.

“Naos?” she asked. “Kavlis, how can that be? That was supposed to be an alternate. We were supposed to approach the people of the refuge and journey with them to Atlaradis.”

“That’s not what the majority decided,” Kavlis told her gently. “I’m sorry.”

Rhiannon turned to face him.

“Why?” she asked him pleadingly. “Didn’t they listen to you?”

“They did,” Kavlis reassured her. “I told them what you passed on about Atlaradis, but Naos sent representatives that made a better offer. They’re willing to help defray some of the relocation costs and provide some equipment to get our farms started, as well as provide land and good loans. Seems they’ve had a labor shortage ever since a bunch of refugees left their planet after the Vong War. I can see the appeal.”

“You don’t believe Naos is a better world for us, do you?” she asked him.

“I believe it’s a good world,” Kavlis replied. “I haven’t seen Atlaradis.”

Rhiannon shook her head and stepped away from him to face out across the plains.

“So everyone’s going to Naos.”

“Where else would we go?” Kavlis asked. “Those who already had somewhere else to go have pretty much left already. The Erskols, the Hanichats, the Rulans. . .”

“I remember,” Rhiannon said. “I remember how angry they were when the refuge sent its representatives to inform the settlements what had happened.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” Kavlis replied.

“What happened to Yorbinal was not their fault!” Rhiannon replied.

Kavlis stepped to stand in front of her and took her hands in his rough, callused ones.

“I know it isn’t, Rhinny,” he said. “But I know that’s who they blame. That’s why they reached out to Naos. They don’t trust the refuge.”

“They trust you,” she told him. “Shouldn’t that have been enough?”

Kavlis pursed his lips together.

“Not everyone believes in me the way you do,” he said.

“Well, they should,” Rhiannon answered bitterly. “What will you do?”

Kavlis raised her hands to his lips, kissing her hands gently. Despite the affection, a sinking feeling began growing in Rhiannon’s stomach.

“You want to go with them, don’t you?” she asked him, her voice a haggard whisper.

Kavlis didn’t immediately answer. It hurt him to see his wife conflicted, and he had wrestled with this same question for weeks now.

“Kavlis, you’d rather go to Naos, wouldn’t you?” Rhiannon asked him again.

“Rhinny. . . ,” he started to explain.

“Don’t. . . please,” she said. “Just tell me.”

“Rhinny, all of our friends are going to Naos,” he said. “Our son’s fiancé is one of them. Aurelise’s friend, the Davinor boy, and his family are going. My extended relatives are going. Those are our people.”

A hot tear slid down her cheek.

“And what of my family?” she asked.

Kavlis’s voice caught on a lump in his throat. He wanted to remind her that her family and friends only visited a few times a year, that they no longer considered her part of their community. Part of him knew that was a gross exaggeration, that Rhiannon’s family loved her dearly, but he also could not ignore their self-imposed isolation. His mind was made up on Naos, except for the fact that Rhiannon was heartbroken by the news. There was nothing he could say to console her, so instead he drew her close and hugged her tightly.

“They will always love you,” he told her. “But so do the people out here.”

He brushed one of the tears away from her cheek as gently as his brawny hand could manage.

“Rhinny, when I brought you out here, I never thought it would come to this,” he said. “But I can’t start over again, and I can’t ask our children to do so either. Could you ask that of them?”

“No,” she admitted hoarsely. “But this is a mistake, beloved. The stories my Aunt Cassi tells of Atlaradis. . .”

“I’m sure it’s a wonderful place,” Kavlis replied. “Better than Naos, even. But not for us.”

Rhiannon shook her head silently, more tears spilling from her eyes.

“Rhinny, you know that I would rather face hardship with the people I love than paradise with strangers,” Kavlis said. “But I also know they’re not strangers to you.”

He hugged her tight.

“Would you still rather go to Atlaradis?” he whispered in her ear.

“Kav, you said I couldn’t ask that of you. . .” Rhiannon replied.

“Just tell me,” he said, mirroring her earlier words.

She reached up to stroke his face.

“Not if it meant leaving you, or the children,” she said. “You are my greatest love, and I will go wherever you lead. Even to Naos. That was the choice I made when I married you twenty-one years ago.”

“And your family?” Kavlis asked.

“They will not understand,” Rhiannon answered. “But then again, they never really have.”

“I don’t want to force this on you,” Kavlis told her. “I don’t want you to be miserable.”

Rhiannon blinked away the tears.

“My place will always be at your side, beloved,” she told him.

“And my first job is to love you,” Kavlis answered, his voice thick with heartfelt concern. “If this divides us, then it’s not worth it.”

She started to speak, but Kavlis held a finger to her lips.

“I’ve already told the children,” he said. “I didn’t ask them to give me an answer immediately, and I don’t want you to give me one either. I want you to go back to your parents and think it over, hear their perspective. It’s only fair. Aurelise is packing you a bag and Tavin’s warming up the speeder. We have almost a month until the transports leave for Naos, so take as long as you need.”

“But what about the harvest, and the—?”

“We’ll take care of it,” Kavlis assured her. “This is my choice.”

He kissed her forehead lovingly, then took a step back, her hands still resting in his.

Rhiannon tried to say “thank you,” but the words couldn’t escape her, so she simply flung herself onto him, hugging him as tightly as she could, fresh tears falling from her unseeing eyes.

“I know,” Kavlis said. “I love you.”

He held her for several minutes, until she finally released him. Once again, he swept the tears from her eyes and kissed her cheek.

“Have a good trip, Rhinny,” he said.

She nodded, then turned and headed back towards their farmhouse, where her second son, Tavin, was in the garage. He was tall, like his father, though he had her slender build and his features seemed more delicate than her oldest son, Tamaron. She had always understood Tavin better than Tamaron, for while Tamaron was the spitting image of his father in body and mind, Tavin had inherited some of her own inquisitiveness and imagination that at times seemed alien to his father and brother.

“Are you okay, Mom?” he asked.

“No,” she replied honestly. “But I’ll manage for now. Is the speeder ready?”

“Yes,” he said. “Dad said you were going back Inside?”

“That’s right,” she said. “You can drive me to Draskar and I’ll meet someone there to take me Inside.”

“Actually. . .” Tavin answered. “Dad wanted me to go with you.”

“Did he say why?” Rhiannon asked.

Tavin’s voice was slightly hesitant in his reply.

“He didn’t want you to be alone,” he said. “Aurelise and Tamaron both have obligations out here—they want to go Naos anyway. Me? I’m keeping an open mind. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to see where you used to live.”

Rhiannon managed a small smile despite the turmoil within her.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she told him. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”


 * Knightfall

Shara huddled in the corner of the cell she’d been tossed into. It was small, dark, and cramped, with little to distinguish it other than a cold steel bench that also served as a bed. The walls and floor were of the same solid gray metal, while the translucent teal haze of a force field barred the entrance, preventing her from escaping.

She did not know how long she had been kept as a prisoner, nor where she was other than a vague awareness of being deep inside the bowels of Ariada’s ship. She hadn’t spoken to anyone for what seemed like hours since Ariada had paraded her in front of Selu and Ryion. Her freshly-reattached finger throbbed, and she was both weary and hungry, but dared not call out for attention. From what Ryion had told her of Ariada, there was no reason to expect mercy from her captors. She hugged her knees close to her chest, trying to stay warm in the chilled cell. The thin shift she’d been given was little help in the cold environment and she shivered from the cold.

“Cold, is it?” a menacing voice hissed from the darkness.

Shara shrank back into the corner of the cell as she saw what appeared to be almost a palpable shroud swallow the gloomy light from outside the cell. A pair of glowing yellow eyes, narrow and glaring, shone through the inky blackness, directing their malicious gaze on her. Shara did her best to meet the terrible stare, but the pure venom in the expression caused her to avert her eyes after only a few seconds.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Shara asked.

The chuckle that replied was completely devoid of mirth. Rather, it reminded Shara of a pittin toying with its prey. Shara suddenly felt her throat constrict, choking her. Her hands went to her throat, but the tightening of her windpipe continued, as if an invisible chain was strangling her. She gurgled, her head pounding as its blood flow was constricted.

“You don’t ask the questions,” the sibilant, evil whisper replied. “You are an inferior creature, unworthy of addressing me. Unworthy of him.”

Shara felt the invisible hand release and collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing as she tried to breathe.

“Ryion. . . loves me,” she managed in between huge gulps of air.

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Ariada replied, stepping forward so she could look down on Shara and dropping her affected voice. “I’m counting on that.”

Shara looked up at Ariada from her prone position on the ground, terror evident in her eyes.

“What do you want with him?”

“Ryion has disrupted enough of my plans to prove an annoyance,” Ariada said. “I tried to let him go, but he wouldn’t stop chasing me!”

Anger crept into her voice, cold fury that spoke of premeditated determination.

“Ryion has a choice,” she said, controlling herself again. “He can surrender himself to me, and I will deal with him, or you will die a horrible death.”

“What will that accomplish?” Shara asked. “Didn’t you love him at one time, too? Why would you do that to him?”

“He has given me no other choice,” Ariada answered coldly. “I warned him not to interfere, but he disregarded me. Now, two that I love are dead, and you and Morgedh and perhaps more on Yanibar must suffer the consequences.”

“So he doesn’t mean anything to you. . . ?” Shara replied quietly.

Ariada stiffened.

“Once he did,” she said. “But he died to me the day he chose his constricting, narrow-minded principles over me. I made sacrifices to save the galaxy, to help save him and the rest of his people. Instead, he stood by and watched in condemnation.”

“Then you want revenge on him?”

Ariada laughed mockingly.

“Such misconceptions of pettiness,” she replied, then her laughter subsided, returning her voice to a sinister whisper. “Ryion is an obstacle to a greater work, nothing more, and soon he shall be removed.”

“I would not underestimate him,” Shara replied.

“Underestimate Ryion Kraen?” Ariada scoffed bitingly. “You must think me imbecile. I knew Ryion Kraen on a level you’ll never understand or appreciate or experience. The Force bound us together, and that is something far beyond your comprehension.”

Ariada scowled as she realized that Shara had been subliminally directing the conversation.

“I give you credit for being manipulative and devious enough to have me answer your questions,” she said. “But don’t savor your small victory too long.”

“Any victory against evil is to be savored,” Shara answered defiantly.

Ariada held up a hand and suddenly Shara was thrust back into the metal bench, the invisible fist squeezing her throat once more.

“I’m not doing this out of petty spite,” Ariada told her as she struggled in vain to breathe. “For the moment, this part of the ship can be sensed in the Force, which means Ryion can sense you.”

She released Shara, who collapsed limply to the floor, her strength depleted from oxygen deprivation. Ariada lowered the force field and entered the cell to kneel down by Shara until her face was only a dozen centimeters from Shara’s head as she lay on her side, gasping for breath.

“He can feel when you’re in pain, can’t he?” Ariada whispered evilly.

She ran one finger down Shara’s temple in a toying gesture that made her skin crawl. Shara’s eyes went wide with terror.

“You don’t need to do this,” she wheezed. “Ryion will come for me.”

“Oh yes, he will,” Ariada replied. “But I want his head filled with worry and concern for you, or else outrage and fury at my actions. Both of those I can use, and I’d prefer that he not spend the entire trip plotting my downfall.”

She clasped one of her hands to the side of Shara’s head.

“Please,” Shara gasped.

“It’s necessary,” Ariada said simply.

She exerted herself in the Force and Shara’s vision was flooded with images, sensations, that were not her own. She was floating in some kind of thick transparent liquid. She gurgled and struggled to swim to the top, trying to catch her breath, when suddenly jolts of electricity began surging through the liquid. The shocks seared and scorched her as they ran up and down her body in indescribable agony. Her vision burst with colors and she thrashed around involuntarily. The electricity left her convulsing and she would have screamed her voice hoarse had she not been submerged. Her entire existence was replaced with unending pain. It seemed like she was subjected to the ordeal for hours on end, though when her vision returned to gaze at the floor of the cell, she was vaguely aware that it had only been a few minutes. She was trembling, her tortured mind unable to control her limbs or evidently her bladder.

“I know what you felt,” Ariada whispered in her ear. “Because I felt it, and worse, ten years ago.”

Shara remained catatonic and glassy-eyed.

“I take no joy in reliving that moment, or in causing you to share in that pain,” Ariada told her. “But now you have a taste of what I endured, of how I suffered.”

Ariada rose to loom over Shara, a towering black figure overlooking a helpless captive.

“Know this: I would endure it again to complete my mission. I have seen what is coming, and it is far worse than anything I have done. The galaxy must rise against the Jedi Order and its supporters to stop their endless conflagration. Ryion and his family have blocked me long enough, and now, they must be stopped.”

Ariada turned and strode out of the cell, re-activating the force field, though Shara was in no state to sit up, much less escape.

“Amazing how the mind can persuade the body of what it sees,” she remarked coldly as she stopped for one last comment. “Of how simply planting a memory led your mind to believe it had been subjected to the same duress. Fascinating.”

Then, she stalked out of the detention area into the gloomy darkness, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She had sensed Ryion reach out to Shara during her distress and knew that he had gotten the point. Hopefully, it would destabilize him so she could deal with him and Jaina. Ariada had already toyed with the latter’s mind when she’d crashed on Belsavis, intercepting her subconscious mental attempts to reach her brother and partner and twisting them. If the Force was with her, the two would be unnerved enough to be subdued. Ariada had devised a new plan that would both eliminate them as a threat and create a possible new avenue to stave off the coming chaos. As her efforts had been increasingly thwarted, she had known that she needed an alternate, and this riskier venture would prove her boldest gambit of all, as well as the most desperate. She needed to rest, to prepare herself mentally for her pending encounter with Ryion and Jaina.

However, first, she had one final message to send. She held up her comlink and activated it.

“Captain Toscerra,” she said. “Aye, Mistress?” came the immediate, obedient reply.

“Prepare a message for secure transmission to the Galactic Alliance. Address it to Chief of State Omas.”

Ariada scowled as she said the man’s name. A pity he had lived. If he’d been eliminated, she was sure that his successor would have been much more pliant. Still, the man was no fool; he’d know she wasn’t bluffing. The Galactic Alliance would do as it was told, for the consequences of crossing her were too horrifying to even contemplate.

Soon, the communications array was ready for her. Ariada straightened the long black cassock she was wearing and stepped towards the holocam, halting just short.

“Are we fully secure?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” Captain Toscerra assured her.

“Good,” she said.

Striding into view, she assumed a sinister, confident expression. She had to convey the proper menace to the Galactic Alliance, to convince them that she was capable of horrific action if her demands were not met. Ariada knew that with the dangers she had seen, that her spies were reporting, the amount of time she had to finish her plans to fracture the Jedi Order from the Galactic Alliance was contingent on how well she sold this threat.

“Chief of State Omas, my name is Ariada Cerulaen. I assume you know of me, or at least you’re familiar with my work. You should also know that I don’t make idle threats. There are four bombs on Coruscant laced with a virus that I believe you have been acquainted with. If unleashed, they can trigger millions of deaths, possibly billions, as well as mass hysteria. Even the threat of such a pandemic would spark pandemonium in the towers of Coruscant. Furthermore, I have left another surprise on Bespin’s Cloud City. These devices can all be detonated remotely on my command or if inadvertently triggered.

If you’re expecting an unreasonable demand right now, don’t worry. All I want is for the Galactic Alliance to stop hunting me. Call off your warships and your intelligence services, and I will give you the location of the bombs within the month. Pursue me, and I can guarantee you this: I will devastate Coruscant.”

Ariada glared at the holocam one last time for effect, then signaled to terminate the transmission.

“Encrypt and send it,” she snapped, tired from the demands of having to properly convey such a horrifying ultimatum.

“Yes, Mistress,” Captain Toscerra told her obediently.

Ariada stalked off to her sanctum.

“A well-constructed message,” Aspra Serpaddis told her as he slithered up alongside her.

“Let us hope the Galactic Alliance is equally impressed,” Ariada retorted. “Is the ship ready for Ryion and Jaina?”

“Of course,” he hissed. “Will they come.”

“They will,” she said. “But they will attempt subversion and deceit. We must be on our guard.”

“And what of those of the Nine that you have sent out on missions?” he asked. “You are spending them too readily, Ariada.”

She bit her lip nervously, the first crack in her confident exterior. Her head bowed, her hair acting as a curtain.

“I know,” she said solemnly.

“How many?” he asked.

Ariada forced herself to remain calm against the sadness welling up within her at the thought of what had been lost. What she had sacrificed for the sake of their cause. She was not quite at the point of regret, but her fervor and convictions did not fully diminish the ache she felt at the passing of her devoted acolytes.

“We lost Night Pearl on Bespin. I sensed Durindfire did not survive her mission on Yanibar—she was killed at what should have been her moment of triumph. Emerald disappeared on Almania—I cannot sense her, but she may be in hiding. Sapphire is still recovering.”

“These are great losses,” Aspra Serpaddis told her simply. “I know!” Ariada answered him angrily. “They cut me just as deep as they do you, to see their futures stifled and cut short. I should have foreseen better.”

“Perhaps there was nothing you could have done,” the Thisspiassian replied.

“I refuse to accept that,” she said flatly. “Leave me. I must meditate.”

He bowed and slithered away. Deeply troubled, Ariada retreated to her inner sanctum, seating herself on the black chair that dominated the center of the room. There, she closed her eyes and let the dark side fill her. Focusing and shaping the darkness, she turned to it for power, using it to see the future. A chill ran down her spine as the images coalesced into horrifying possibilities.

“How. . . ?” she whispered to herself. “How can I stop this?”

16
Zeyn shifted slightly, adjusting the aim of his carbine toward the mouth of the cave. Danni, who had been dozing while resting on his back, stirred.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Zeyn answered tersely, despite the uneasy sensation crawling up his spine. “I think.”

Danni started to say something, but Zeyn’s discomfort level suddenly spiked as the Force warned him.

“Ssh,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Get down.”

He felt Danni stiffen and then slide away from him so he could move freely. He was vaguely aware that she had stood up fully and was looking around his shoulder. Zeyn froze as he sensed a growing menace approaching the mouth of the cave. Tightening his grip on his blaster, his finger lightly brushed the trigger, preparing to fire. He drew on the Force, preparing himself mentally for combat despite his injury and exhaustion.

Suddenly the mouth of the cave was filled with a hulking shadow. Zeyn flattened himself against the cave wall as two explosions erupted, illuminating one of the lethal assassin droids as it was engulfed in flame and shrapnel from the two mines he had set. The droid flailed momentarily as the mines tore through its shielding and Zeyn cut loose with his blaster in its moment of weakness. The Force guided his aim and the violet bolts speared into the droid’s vulnerable neck and the gash the mines had torn in its side, melting away the armor there. Zeyn thought he saw sparks fly from internal components and sighted in on the location, squeezing the secondary trigger. The underslung ordnance launcher on his carbine barked, hurling a concussion grenade into the droid’s internals. The grenade exploded with thunderous cacophony, followed by a secondary detonation as the droid’s reactor was breached. The entire cave was bathed in light from the blast, which quickly dissipated to reveal the smoldering hulk of the droid prone on the ground, its shorn armor plating still glowing from residual heat.

Zeyn kept the droid bracketed in his blaster’s sights, unsure if that was the only threat, and cognizant that the sound and light from their brief skirmish would have been easily heard from kilometers away. To her credit, Danni remained huddled behind him.

“Don’t move,” he warned her. “I still sense a threat.”

Zeyn started to sweep the blaster’s barrel across the mouth of the cave, his eyes straining to see anything in the dark now that the sudden flash of light from the droid’s demise had spoiled his night vision.

The Force warned him a split-second before it happened, but his reflexes, dulled by fatigue, betrayed him, as he couldn’t react in time. The ceiling of the cave burst down on him, burying him and Danni under a pile of rubble and dust. Zeyn was knocked into the water face first and swallowed a whole mouthful before he could help himself. He opened his eyes to see a small silver sphere drop into the water in front of him, trailing bubbles. A thermal detonator! He managed to get his right arm free and grabbed it, twisting to hurl it away towards the mouth of the cave. Just as he did so, a pair of boots appeared in front of him. Zeyn looked up just as the woman stomped on his face, the sole of her boot driving at his eyes. He gurgled as she pressed down, keeping his head underwater. His eyes shut and in pain from the kick, he blindly reached out with his right arm to strike the offending leg behind the knee. The blow weakened the pressure enough for him to shrug off the rocks weighing him down and surface to gasp for breath as he tried to blink through the pain in his eyes. He found himself staring at the assassin that had been chasing them; more specifically, the barrel of her rifle. Zeyn froze, helpless—she had him.

Then Danni plowed into the assassin from the side and Zeyn dove aside to mostly avoid the sniper rifle’s slug, which tore a bloody furrow along his ankle instead of punching through his chest. The assassin snarled and beat off Danni, clubbing the back of her head with the rifle butt. Danni collapsed prone into the water face-down.

“Danni!” Zeyn called, drawing his lightsaber and thumbing it to life.

However, he was too slow and the rifle butt slammed into his gut, driving the wind out of him. A second blow smashed the side of his head, bringing him to his knees. In desperation, Zeyn managed to slash the lightsaber horizontally, slicing the rifle in two. However, the motion left his weapon arm over-extended and the assassin kicked out to impact his arm right at the elbow. The force of the blow on his fully-stretched out arm hyper-extended the joint with a sickening pop and Zeyn felt the lightsaber collapse from nerveless fingers. In a flash, the assassin was on him, her left arm snaking around him in a crushing headlock as they struggled side-by-side, the assassin pressing into his right side as she sought to simultaneously strangle him and drive him into the cave wall.

Ordinarily, Zeyn would have simply knocked the wind out of her with a solid left cross, but his crushed wrist wouldn’t even form a proper fist. He went for a left jab anyway, aiming for her stomach, only to have the assassin whip him around, depriving the blow of any power. She trapped his left wrist against her armored knee with her free hand, grinding the shattered wrist painfully. Zeyn screamed in pain, a cry which intensified as she released his useless left wrist to stomp on his wounded right ankle. She was not only out to kill him, but intended to do it in a painful, humiliating manner that would leave him completely broken before he expired.

Resolving to punish her for not finishing him swiftly, Zeyn continued to scream and thrash about even as she threw her strength into the headlock. His right arm was badly damaged, but he managed to pop his elbow back into place by slamming it into the same armored knee that had just re-crushed his left wrist, an action which hurt almost as much as the original hyperextension had. With his head pounding and black spots swimming across his vision, Zeyn knew he was running out of time. He made a grab for his vibroblade, intending to draw it and then swiftly stab her back-handed, hoping that his ruse of flailing helplessly had distracted her. His fingers gripped the vibroblade and slid it out of the sheath across his waist. He stabbed backhanded just as an iron grip seized his wrist, skewing the blade’s trajectory. Zeyn gasped as the vibroblade pierced him low, just above his right hip joint, his own strength combined with the assassin’s to drive the blade deep. Blood spurted from the wound through the newly-riven slit in his armor and Zeyn was transfixed, sent into shock from the sudden impalement. He was frozen, helpless in the assassin’s iron grip and severely wounded from the stabbing.

He stared at the water as the assassin tried to torque him to the right in a motion that would drive the vibroblade deeper into his guts. What had once been a placid, pure substance was muddied with rocks and dirt and clouded with blood. Zeyn struggled, but his efforts were in vain, as he felt the blade pierce deeper into him. More blood gushed out from the wound and he felt his strength being sapped. Glancing to the side, he saw the assassin’s expression of fierce hate as she tried to twist the vibroblade. Seeing Danni floating face-down behind the assassin, absolutely helpless if he failed, spurred him to cling to the hilt tenaciously.

Then, Zeyn sensed something, a hint that could be both their salvation and his demise. Without hesitation, he took the choice. Releasing the hilt of the vibroblade, he drove his burst right elbow into the assassin’s face even as she twisted the vibroblade, rupturing tissues and organs that were never meant for such trauma. Even as her blade tore into him, Zeyn’s mind reached out to his lightsaber and jetted it through the water, but not to his ruined hands, which would not have had the strength to grip it and strike a blow.

It went to Danni.

Rising from the water in a sudden flurry, she stabbed upwards with his lightsaber, driving it straight up to skewer the assassin in a wound that ran from groin through solar plexus. Zeyn saw the golden blade emerge from the impaled woman’s chest and smiled at his nemesis, who stared at him transfixed with an expression of utter shock mingled with hatred. Her face froze in that awful expression as the life drained out from her. Danni snapped off the weapon and the assassin collapsed, her wounds steaming as they slapped into the water. Zeyn fell with her, tumbling into the water as his strength gave way. The water consumed him, pulling him down, and could not fight it. His last thoughts before everything went black was that he had accomplished his mission, only to leave Danni stranded in a cave that had possibly been collapsed by the thermal detonator, with no way of escaping to find shelter or means to fly his ship in the unlikely event she was able to reach it unscathed. That bittersweet thought was the last thing he recalled before unconsciousness claimed him.


 * Yanibar

Rhiannon walked up the smooth paved walkway that led to her parents’ house, treading steps she hadn’t trod in years. Tavin followed in her wake, and while her son had plied her with questions since they were admitted Inside, he was now silent, drinking in the sights. She reached the carved wooden door her father had made when he’d built the house and rang the door chime. Her attempts to reach her parents via comlink had been unsuccessful and she wondered where they would have gone. It was now evening and at least one of them should have been home by now, unless they had gone somewhere that evening. Ryion hadn’t replied to her calls either and her brow furrowed as she wondered what would have caused all three of them to disappear. From what she knew of her family’s history and skillset, it wasn’t good.

Nobody answered the door. Rhiannon waited nearly a minute, then tried knocking. Still no reply.

“Are they not home, Mom?” Tavin asked.

“I suppose not,” Rhiannon replied, reaching for her comlink. “I suppose I should try your Aunt Jasika. She might be here.”

She placed the call on her comlink, waiting expectantly for her cousin’s cheery voice to reply, but to no avail. Instead, she received the standard recorded message.

“You’ve reached Jasika Kraen. I’m not able to answer right now, so please leave me a message and I’ll get back to you once my spacelanes are clear.”

Evidently, Jasika was nowhere in the Yanibar refuge, or else she was indisposed and couldn’t answer. Rhiannon’s comlink didn’t reach beyond the planet or its orbit, so she was puzzled. There were still plenty of people at the refuge, for she had heard the sounds of speeders and ships as they drove in, but none of her family seemed to be responding.

“Rhiannon?” a voice called from off to the side. “Is that you?”

Rhiannon smiled. It was her Aunt Cassi.

“I’m here, Cassi,” she said. “It’s me.”

Cassi rushed over and embraced her firmly. Rhiannon reached up to touch her aunt’s face as a way of implanting in her mind what Cassi looked like now—it had been years since they’d seen each other. To her surprise, Cassi’s face was lined with wrinkles and aged. Rhiannon supposed it shouldn’t have been a shock, but Cassi had always been youthful in spirit, so the idea of her aging seemed unnatural.

“Welcome home, Rhiannon,” Cassi told her warmly, releasing her from the hug.

“It’s good to be back,” Rhiannon said.

It was a half-truth at least.

“Is this Tavin?” Cassi asked.

“It’s me,” Rhiannon’s son replied, offering his hand. “Pleased to see you again.”

Cassi hugged him instead.

“I haven’t seen you in a few years,” she replied. “You’ve certainly grown up.”

“Where are my parents, Cassi?” Rhiannon asked, cutting in to cover Tavin’s momentary embarrassment. “Or the rest of my family.”

Cassi paused for a moment.

“You should come back to my house,” she said gravely, her earlier warmth gone. “Much has happened.”

Thirty minutes later, Rhiannon and Tavin sat quietly on a settee in Cassi’s home with cups of naris-bud tea that Cassi had made for them. They had listened as Cassi told them of Ariada’s resurgence, of how Ryion and Selu and Milya and others had left Yanibar to search out and stop her. Cassi’s voice nearly broke as she told them of the brutal attack on Yanibar.

“What happened to Sarth?” Rhiannon asked, alarmed.

“He’s right here,” Sarth said from across the room.

His voice was weak and by the sound it, he was only walking with the aid of a cane or walker, but he was there.

“Sarth, you shouldn’t be up,” Cassi chided him.

“Oh really?” Sarth replied quizzically. “Did you think I was just going to lie in bed while you monopolize my niece for as long as you possibly can?”

“Sarth!” Rhiannon exclaimed, rising from the couch and finding her way over to him.

Cassi helped her along, using the Force to plant an image in her mind of the room and its occupants so she could navigate the room easier. In her mind’s eye, Rhiannon saw that Sarth was far older and more haggard than she remembered him, wearing pajamas instead of his standard work attire, and limping with the aid of a cane. He looked weak and was slightly stooped over, so she embraced him lightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she told him as he kissed her on the cheek.

“Me too,” Sarth replied amiably as Cassi helped him over to an overstuffed chair in one corner of the room. “They just let me out of the medcenter yesterday.” “With strict orders to rest,” Cassi reminded him.

“She’s gotten very demanding in her old age,” Sarth remarked. “As if I could rest now! The entire colony needs me, and she wants me to rest. Ha!”

“What do you mean?” Tavin asked.

Sarth arched his eyebrows at Tavin.

“Tavin? My, it has been a long time, but that’s definitely the same face,” Sarth said. “Anyway, back to your question. I am in charge of coordinating the evacuation of everyone who’s left inside this colony—a monumental task, and that’s just the start of it.”

“Why is that?” Tavin asked.

“There are a great many engineering and logistical challenges for a small colony such as Yanibar to mount such an ambitious evacuation effort, particularly when everyone and their supplies must make the journey in one simultaneous trip,” Sarth replied. “But on top of that, more is being asked of me in the political realm.”

“What do you mean?” Cassi asked. “What are you talking about?”

“The interim Council spoke to me at the medcenter during one of your rare absences from my side,” Sarth explained. “They’ve asked me to consider heading the Council until the evacuation is complete.”

“What?!” Cassi exclaimed. “No, Sarth. That’s not fair. You’ve already shouldered enough.”

“These are desperate times,” Sarth said with a shrug. “They needed someone respected within the colony and with the experience to help coordinate a mass evacuation who could fill the role of leader with the council all but destroyed.”

“Shouldn’t someone like Selu fill that role?” Cassi asked.

“Selu isn’t here, and there’s no telling when he’ll return,” Sarth replied. “The Council is looking to me for leadership. They’ve said the choice is mine. . . but they’ve also said they have no other candidates.”

“This is a mistake, Sarth,” Cassi warned him. “You’re not well enough to even work on the evacuation, much less lead the Council on top of that.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Sarth said, gesturing to their guests.

“Yes, we will,” Cassi replied, then turned back to Rhiannon and Tavin. “So what brings you two back to visit? It’s not every day you come back.”

Rhiannon hesitated, wondering how best to phrase her reply.

“Kavlis asked me to come back Inside and spend some time with you.”

“Why?” Cassi asked, alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

“Not between us,” Rhiannon replied. “It’s about. . . the evacuation. The Draskar community voted to go to Naos instead of Atlaradis.”

Rhiannon shook her head sorrowfully.

“They didn’t listen to us.”

Cassi sat back, shocked, but Sarth seemed less surprised.

“It’s not your fault, Rhiannon,” he said. “Though I think I understand your predicament, and why you’re here.”

“You do?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “Your plan all along was for your family and friends to come to Atlaradis with the rest of the refuge, but that just fell through. Kavlis sent you back to see which choice you’d rather make, because he didn’t want to force you into an unfair decision.”

Rhiannon’s unseeing eyes blinked in surprise.

“That’s exactly it,” she said. “How did you know?”

“The Council already informed me of the Outsiders’ decision,” he told her. “And knowing what I do of Kavlis, he’s not the kind to pressure you into a decision.”

“That’s just it,” Rhiannon answered sadly. “Either decision I make, I lose out on an entire community that I love and that loves me.”

“There’s not an easy way around that, Rhiannon,” Cassi replied.

“You made a similar decision about twenty years ago and it turned out okay,” Sarth remarked thoughtfully. “You’ll find the right one this time too.”

There was a long silence as all three were busy with their own thoughts, while Tavin seemed content to listen to the older adults talk.

“You should stay here,” Cassi put in suddenly. “Nobody knows when your family will be back, and there’s no reason for you to stay by yourselves anyway. Jasika and Bryndar are on Bespin right now, but you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Rhiannon answered quietly. “I’d like that very much.”

“And we’d love to have you and Tavin,” Sarth answered. “You can keep an old man company.”

He coughed suddenly, a protracted wracking fit that lasted several seconds.

“I think that’s quite enough excitement for now,” Cassi told him. “Let me help you back to bed.”

“No arguments. . . this time,” Sarth said weakly.

“And no working from bed, either!” Cassi insisted. “Bed means rest.”

“You know, when we were younger, that’s not always what it meant,” Sarth replied mischievously.

Cassi looked shocked, but, as she ushered him down the hallway back to their room, swatted him playfully on the rear. “You had better recover then if you want some of that,” she replied. Moments later, Cassi returned. “Rhiannon, Tavin, I’m sorry,” she said. “I need to make an urgent call. Please, make yourselves at home and bring your bags into the spare room—I’ll be right back.” “That’s fine,” Rhiannon answered agreeably. “I know where it is.” “Great,” Cassi said, then she sighed. “I wish your parents were here to greet you, Rhiannon. It’s just not right that they’re not here.” “Don’t worry about it,” Rhiannon replied. “We’ll manage.” “I know you will, sweetheart,” Cassi told her. “You always do.”


 * Zonama Sekot

Zeyn awoke to find himself engulfed in pain. His vision was blurry and his other senses seemed to have been suppressed by the sheer pain he was experiencing. He felt weak, unable to move or do anything but ride the excruciating waves pulsing through him. Clearing his mind with a Jedi focusing technique that he’d learned early in his training, he managed to recover enough vision to realize that there were three Yuuzhan Vong crouched down around him. Zeyn realized in terror that they were touching him, inciting the pain he was suffering. His combat reflexes kicked in and he tried to struggle free as memories of fighting the Yuuzhan Vong spurred his autonomic response. They hissed something in their own language and tried to restrain him. Zeyn’s training allowed him to summon the Force to him and he prepared to explode a cataclysmic shockwave of telekinesis that would send everything around him hurtling away—a move that would also severely weaken him. It was a desperation tactic, but subdued and helpless, he had no other options.

“Zeyn, wait!” he suddenly heard Danni’s voice call.

Her face appeared at the top of his vision, a concerned look on his face.

“Don’t struggle,” she told him.

Zeyn snarled, forcing the words through uncooperative lips.

“You sold me out!” he said.

Instantly, a shocked and hurt expression appeared on her face.

“No!” she replied quickly. “They’re here to help. They dug us out of the cave after it collapsed on us; they’re trying to heal you! You’ve been under their care for several hours now, and they’ve done nothing to harm you.”

Zeyn’s addled mind struggled to process what she was saying. It was definitely Danni speaking, but the words didn’t make any sense. She knelt down beside him. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be saying this if it wasn’t true,” she said. “If anyone has reason to fear the Yuuzhan Vong, it’s me.”

Zeyn was still bewildered, but the reassuring tones in her voice and her body language told him she wasn’t lying. He stopped struggling momentarily, allowing the built-up Force energy to dissipate harmlessly. He was still in severe pain, particularly in his torso, ankle, and both arms, but noted that he didn’t feel as weak as he had just before collapsing. Danni nodded to the three Yuuzhan Vong around him, signaling them to continue their ministrations.

“I’ll be around if you need me,” she told him, giving him one last concerned look before walking off.

Another Yuuzhan Vong appeared in his vision and he vaguely recognized him as the Yuuzhan Vong elder, Niull Shac. Given that his village had been ravaged by the technobeast virus, Zeyn was surprised to see him.

“Shouldn’t you be dead?” he asked the elder.

The Yuuzhan Vong’s eyes glinted at the question.

“I might ask you the same question,” he said. “If our hunting party had found you a few hours later, we might not be speaking.”

“Hunting party, is it?” Zeyn inquired darkly.

“Perhaps that is not the right word in your Basic,” Niull Shac replied. “Search party, perhaps? We were looking for you and Danni Quee.”

“Really?” Zeyn inquired. “And why was that?”

“To warn you of what befell our village,” Niull Shac said. “Several of our shapers are studying the abomination now in an isolated area. Between our own efforts and Sekot’s powers, we have cleansed the rest of the infection from this world.”

Zeyn breathed a sigh of relief as the three Yuuzhan Vong healers finished their work and left him covered with strange organic bandages that did nothing to stunt his pain but seemed to at least seal and clean his wounds.

“At least Sekot won’t suffer permanent damage from this,” he replied.

“No, it will not share the fate of worlds that were destroyed by similar micro-organisms during our war,” Niull Shac replied acidly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” Zeyn answered.

“You did not need to,” Niull Shac told him. “In the name of expediency and justice, we destroyed much in the last war. Now, someone has arrived on our world and attempted to poison us with a tool that mimics our methods and mocks our beliefs. This irony is a bitter thing to taste.”

“Your people should be careful—that virus is very deadly,” Zeyn warned him.

“And yet you are unscathed by it,” Niull Shac pointed out. “Danni Quee has already told us that she was able to cure it from both of you.”

“Thankfully,” Zeyn answered.

“That was not all she told us,” Niull Shac added. “She told us of your planet and its situation.”

Zeyn scowled and glanced in her general direction.

“That was not her place.”

Niull Shac ignored his reprimand.

“She tells us that your people are struggling to get your ships off the surface.”

Zeyn was now thoroughly perturbed that the Yuuzhan Vong was pursuing a line of conversation that was literally too close to home. He remembered enough about the Yuuzhan Vong’s devastation to know that he didn’t want one even thinking about Yanibar. He turned back to glare at Niull Shac.

“Leave my homeworld out of this,” he said darkly.

Niull Shac hissed.

“If you insist, though I would advise you to hear me,” he told him. “If the situation is as dire as Danni Quee has led me to believe. . . perhaps we can help.”

Zeyn’s jaw dropped and he wasn’t sure whether to be angry or surprised.

“You expect me to believe that a group of Yuuzhan Vong would want to help me, and then just take them to my endangered homeworld so you can help us like you did Ithor? Let me get back to you on that one.”

Niull Shac’s stern visage remained expressionless.

“I see your memory is as long as ours,” he said. “We are not at war with you, Jeedai. If the Yuuzhan Vong are to exist in this galaxy, at some point, we must be seen as something other than things to be hated and feared.”

“I can see how it’d be hard to embark on a goodwill tour to win hearts and minds with a history like ‘conquered and enslaved half the galaxy,’” Zeyn remarked acidly.

Niull Shac’s eyes narrowed.

“Yet here you are, your wounds cleansed with porrh and bandaged with neathlats and healing swatches, alive because we dug you out and treated your wounds,” he said. “If I was your enemy, Jeedai, I could have cut your heart out while you lay unconscious, or simply watched you bleed to death.”

The Yuuzhan Vong elder glared fiercely at him.

“Have your people ever defeated others in war?” he asked Zeyn.

Zeyn was tempted not to answer, but finally, he scowled and nodded.

“Yes.”

“And afterward, did you ever turn to your enemy and offer to help them?”

Zeyn’s mind flashed back to the Saraswan Campaign, where the Yanibar Guard had helped unseat a ruthless dictator and then helped rebuild the planet he had tyrannized.

“Sometimes,” he said.

“Then why is my offer so unwelcome to you?”

Zeyn rolled his eyes.

“My people have that history,” he said. “The Yuuzhan Vong’s is quite different.”

“What do you know of our history?” Niull Shac demanded. “You have only fought against us, so you only see us as enemies.”

The elder scowled and straightened up.

“I had hoped to heal some of the wounds of the last war, but apparently some are still too deep. I have offered you our help, Jeedai, but you repay my offered hand with scorn and hatred. I need neither, but perhaps before the end you will find that you need my help.”

He stalked off, leaving Zeyn to fume quietly. Several minutes later, as he was lying in prolonged discomfort, Danni made her way back over to him.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

Zeyn was still in a surly mood and felt betrayed that she had revealed Yanibar’s plight to a Yuuzhan Vong of all people.

“The fresh stab wound in the back hurts,” he said acerbically. “Otherwise, not too bad.”

Danni initially took his words at face value and started to ask him about that wound, then realized the subtext.

“Zeyn, I thought. . .”

“You were wrong,” he cut her off bluntly.

“I thought you’d be open-minded and understanding enough to look past your pride and spite,” she finished. “Apparently I was wrong.”

Zeyn bit back an angry retort, but he refused to make eye contact with her, staring off into the distance.

“The war’s over, Zeyn,” she told him sadly. “It’s been over for a long time. It’s a shame Ariada isn’t the only one who hasn’t gotten that message yet.”

The remark stung deeply, but Zeyn refused to acknowledge her further and she left, leaving him still in agony and conflicted. He had spurned the Yuuzhan Vong elder who had helped rescue him and insulted the person he was trying to protect for the sake of his own personal hatred of the Yuuzhan Vong. In that sense, while his deeds were nowhere near the despicability of Ariada’s, his black-and-white attitude towards the Yuuzhan Vong was uncomfortably similar. Despite his fatigue, the combination of pain and the prolonged mental percolation of these thoughts kept sleep from finding him for many hours.


 * Yanibar

Sarth floated in a repulsorchair that had been delivered so he could move around without taxing himself unnecessarily. A vast array of glowing symbols and specifications floated in front of him, projected in front of the far wall by the holoprojector he had used to remotely connect to his work terminal. Sarth scowled as he used his hands to select and analyze parts of the schematic, scribbling notes with a small digital stylus where he saw fit.

Normally, he didn’t work from here. This was their bedroom, a place of retreat from the hectic schedule and convoluted technical details that inundated his office during his work hours. Unlike his office, he didn’t have multiple holoprojectors, several linked secure datapads, instant prototype generators, or any of his industrial simulation and analysis tools available to him. Instead, there was a bed, a pair of dressers and matching nightstands. The desk he was working from normally was occupied by jewelry and other such accessories which he’d pushed away to make room for his holoprojector and datapad. The walls were decorated with paintings of Bakura and Yanibar rather than the models of designs he normally worked surrounded by. However, his drive to work and the knowledge that Cassi wouldn’t let him sneak over to the office had forced him to this last resort. He hadn’t bothered with changing out of his pajamas and the bed he’d left behind was uncharacteristically unmade despite its lack of occupants. He was so engrossed that he didn’t hear the door slide open behind him. Cassi padded up quietly behind him. “Sarth, what are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I tried,” Sarth said absently. “But I couldn’t sleep for more than a few minutes. Where are Rhiannon and Tavin?”

“They’re out touring the refuge,” Cassi told him. “Akleyn is showing them around. What are you working on?”

“We’ve got to squeeze another thirty percent of thrust out of the evacuation ships and the problems have been nagging me for months now. I can’t quit now, not with so little time remaining.”

“Sarth, can’t your project leads and technical managers at Kraechar Arms work on this?” Cassi asked him.

Sarth shook his head.

“They’re good at what they do, but they’re not me.”

“You can’t take all the responsibility on yourself,” Cassi reminded him. “The success of the evacuation effort does not hinge solely on your brain.”

Sarth set down the stylus to look at her for the first time since she had entered the room.

“But what if it did?” he asked. “What if I’m the only one who can figure out how to get these ships to take off fully loaded? I can’t rest now.”

“Oh Sarth,” Cassi said, placing her arms around his shoulders and kissing his forehead lightly. “Don’t do this to yourself. We already know you’ll do your best—but you can’t carry that burden.”

Sarth shrugged helplessly, then went back to work.

“Someone qualified has to,” he answered. “That’s the same reason the Council contacted me and asked me to lead on a provisional basis. There’s nobody else who can do the job.”

“About that,” Cassi replied. “I have reason to believe the Council has reconsidered the request.”

“Why would they do that?” Sarth asked, circling a redundant power coupling and drawing an arrow to where it could be better placed to improve power shunting through the secondary drive controllers.

“They found a better fit for the job.”

Sarth frowned and set down the stylus again, swiveling the chair to face her, clued in by something in her voice.

“A better fit?” he asked skeptically. “What did you do?”

“I gave them a better option, Sarth,” she told him. “One that doesn’t stretch you further and that can do the job just as well.”

Sarth crossed his arms.

“And who would that be?” he asked.

“Me,” she said simply.

“When?” he replied firmly. “Did they agree to this?”

“Just a few minutes ago, and yes, they did,” Cassi told him.

Sarth was struck speechless by her words, so she explained herself further.

“I have years of experience with coordinating refugee movements due to my work with Open Hands during the Yuuzhan Vong War,” Cassi pointed out. “I know more about the inner workings of Kraechar Arms and the Yanibar Guard than anybody else outside them. Out of all of us, I’m the most familiar with Atlaradis. It was the logical choice.”

Sarth remained utterly surprised and a little hurt.

“You just. . . asked them?” he said. “You didn’t talk to me about it first?”

Cassi winced.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted. “And I’m sorry, but it needed to be done. I just wasn’t sure. . . wasn’t sure you’d support me.”

“Cassi,” Sarth replied, surprised. “I’m your husband. If there’s anyone you can turn to for support, it’s me.”

“I know,” she told him. “I didn’t know if you could support me against yourself, though.”

Sarth took her hands in his.

“You’re right,” he answered. “When you first said it, my initial reaction was indignation. That initial supposition was wrong. You are the best choice, and you have my support.”

He squeezed her hands gently.

“Thank you, for being the better choice.”

Sarth gave her a crooked smile.

“You’re always the better choice for me.”

Cassi shook her head.

“You know what this means, right?” she said. “That means that I, as the head of the Council, have the authority to order you to delegate some of your unreasonably high workload and rest so you can recover from being shot.”

“Is that so?” Sarth asked. “What if I have my personal physician declare me fit for duty?”

Cassi gave him a hopeless look.

“As if Akleyn would sign off on that,” she replied. “He’s just as concerned about you as I am. Besides, I doubt he’d defy the head of the Council. I hear she has considerable influence over him.”

“Perhaps,” Sarth answered teasingly. “But did you know that I happen to be sleeping with the head of the Council? She’s hopelessly in love with me, and I’ve got her practically wrapped around my finger.”

Her answer was a look of shocked indignation and a light shove to the shoulder, but Sarth’s conspiratorial smile was undiminished. A second later, she couldn’t help it and her stern visage cracked.

“You’re ridiculous,” she informed him. “And hopeless.”

“I’ve been told that once or twice,” Sarth answered.

“In all seriousness, I’m very glad that you’re willing to support me as provisional head of the Council,” Cassi told him sincerely. “I was worried that you would have been mad at me.”

“I’m more disappointed that you didn’t even talk it over with me first,” Sarth answered. “Fact is, though, it was the best decision, and I would’ve been a fool to argue against it.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No, you don’t need to,” Sarth told her. “I forgive you—there’s nothing to repay.”

“Thank you,” Cassi answered warmly.

Sarth squeezed her hand again.

“When I was hit down there, in that tunnel, I didn’t know if I would see you again. Being that close to death—it reminded me of how much you mean to me. I’d rather let this go than create conflict between us.”

Cassi nodded gratefully.

“I feel the same way about you,” she told him.

“Enough to let me get back to work without bothering me about it?”

Cassi rolled her eyes, her mouth caught in a reluctant half-smile, and sighed.

“All right,” she acquiesced. “If you’re awake, you might as well be productive. But only until Akleyn, Rhiannon, and Tavin come back. And you’re going to bed early tonight.”

“Of course,” Sarth replied. “As you wish.”


 * Twin Nebulae, two days later

The small ship dropped out of hyperspace in front of the majestic expanses of glowing interstellar cloud that comprised the Twin Nebulae. Illuminated from within by nascent stars, their hues spanned the spectrum, weaving amber, azure, turquoise, ivory, and gold together. The nebulae were breathtakingly beautiful as the colors swirled and glowed in discordant symphony, consuming the view for millions of kilometers on end.

Jaina frowned as she looked at the navigational readouts, seemingly unaffected by the natural splendor of the nebulae.

“The interference from the nebulae is affecting the navicomputer,” she reported.

“Not a huge surprise,” Ryion remarked. “I’m guessing that the gas and dust from the nebula are also limiting the sensors.”

“Good guess.”

“Which means Ariada could be anywhere, lurking to ambush us.”

“Well, isn’t that a cheery thought?”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Ryion reminded her.

“Too late now,” she commented laconically. “Too bad your father wasn’t interested. We could use a little backup.”

“Oh, he was interested all right,” Ryion frowned at the memory. “Interested in having my sanity checked.”

“Didn’t you try pointing out that he would have done the same thing for you or your mother?” Jaina asked.

“Of course I did,” Ryion said. “But after I told him that, he said it was clear that my mind was made up and there was nothing else to discuss. He also strongly warned me against trying to coerce you to help me.”

Jaina sniffed indignantly.

“As if.”

“Anyway, he was interested in hearing my plan, which admittedly, isn’t doing much more than Ariada asks until Shara’s free, but he didn’t tell me anything about what he was doing. Which encourages me.”

“Yes, getting the cold shoulder from Dad is always encouraging,” Jaina replied sarcastically. “Great feeling.”

Ryion took the jibe in stride.

“The last time I set off on a fool-headed errand like this one, my dad had a skifter up his sleeve because he had anticipated my plan. He didn’t tell me about it then, and if he has one now, he’s not saying.”

“Probably another reason for that,” Jaina added. “Ariada can’t torture you for information on something you don’t know about.”

“Now that’s a cheery thought,” Ryion muttered. “Speaking of Ariada. . . where is she?”

The small ship cruised through empty space for the better part of two hours. To alleviate boredom, Ryion sat back and meditated, trying to focus himself on what would almost certainly be a trying ordeal. He and Jaina had planned out what they would do once they were onboard Ariada’s ship, but he needed to focus, to steel himself for the trial ahead. He had sensed Shara being tormented the day prior and it had haunted him, causing him to doubt his plan—no doubt the reason Ariada had done it, along with making sure he understood her seriousness. It was another two hours before Jaina summoned him.

“We’ve got something,” she said. “Message buoy. Text only.”

“What’s it say?” Ryion asked.

Jaina grimaced.

“Give her credit for inventiveness and caution,” she said. “There’s coordinates for a derelict ship. We’re supposed to dock with it and board it, and that’s where it gets fun.”

Ryion peered in so he could look at the message and scowled.

“Carbon freeze? Really? She expects us to just jump into a carbonite freezer and hit the on switch?”

“Like I said, inventive and cautionary,” Jaina replied. “And the dire threat at the bottom of the message, the part where she says she’ll set off a nuclear device on Cloud City if we don’t cooperate, that’s quite the touch.”

“She might not even be here,” Ryion pointed out. “We could just be freezing ourselves to take us out of the fight and she won’t have to lift a finger.”

“We’ll set a distress beacon,” Jaina said. “She didn’t say anything about that.”

“Nor about any of our other precautions, did she?” Ryion said.

“Not that I saw,” Jaina replied. “We’re good on those.”

Ryion sighed.

“Let’s do this then. And hope that her plan wasn’t just for us to die an embarrassing death.”

Jaina rolled her eyes.

“If she was out to kill us, she could have simply bombarded Belsavis when we were stuck down there in that ice cave. She has something else in mind.”

Ryion shuddered.

“Trust me, whatever it is, it’s likely not good,” he replied. “You don’t know her like I do.”

Jaina’s reply was a dismissive shrug.

“I don’t have to,” she answered. “She’s about as dark as they come. Reminds me of some of the Empire Reborn that we had to deal with about twenty years ago.”

Minutes later, they found the derelict ship, a small freighter. Their sensors indicated it was still pressurized after they docked with it, so Ryion and Jaina made their way down to the docking collar. The Force gave no hint of anyone onboard, but recalling Ariada’s use of ysalamiri, that did little to reassure them, as a hidden assailant could be lurking onboard. Since Ariada’s message hadn’t said anything about being unarmed, both of them brought their lightsabers.

They boarded the freighter, alert for any signs of a trap. However, they saw nothing out of the ordinary other than the interior of a dirty tramp freighter, an aged disk-shaped Corellian YT-1000. The ship’s power had been restored and the pair made their way to the bridge, only to find it deserted.

“Looks like nobody’s here,” Jaina said.

“Which means Ariada wants to get us without a fight,” Ryion replied.

“We’ll see about that,” Jaina answered. The two ventured down into the cargo hold to find a pair of carbonite freezers set up and online. They were shaped like long metal troughs and vapor wafted from the cooled interior of each one, giving them the appearance of steaming rectangular bowls. Pipes and cables ran from each one to conduits connecting them to power and likely a carbonite reserve as well. Ryion looked at them with a distasteful expression on his face. “You know, I’ve never liked the cold,” he said. “Belsavis was bad enough.”

“I’m sure this is much worse,” Jaina assured him. “My dad’s pretty willing to talk about most things from the civil war, but he’s tight-lipped about the carbon-freeze incident.”

“Wonderful,” Ryion replied.

Part of him wondered if Ariada would call and goad them on, reminding them of the dire consequences for ignoring her instructions. However, aside from the hum of machinery and the faint sound of water dripping somewhere, the ship was quiet. There was no other choice but to accede to Ariada’s demands. Ryion stepped towards the first carbonite freezer and stood at its edge. He was prepared for this eventuality, he told himself. He’d injected himself with enough nutrients and vitamins to survive prolonged periods without food. He had his lightsaber and his shield. He had added additional blood that he’d siphoned off earlier back into his bloodstream to increase his stamina. He and Jaina had both slathered themselves with bacta to help heal any surface injuries that were incurred.

More importantly, Ryion had concealed a few surprises on his person. He had a pair of ceramic blades tucked into his belts that wouldn’t show up on scanners. His artificial finger and left gauntlet had a small ion charge inside them that when activated, could temporarily disable electronics in the area. He’d hidden another ion charge in his identichit that he wore on a small chain around his neck. He’d implanted a subcutaneous com beacon in between his toes, where it would be virtually impossible to detect and would transmit a message to anyone that detected him. While he expected Ariada to find some of his surprises, Ryion also hoped that at least one would still be available to him when he awoke. Failing that, there was one other surprise on their ship that Ariada wouldn’t be able to anticipate—the Yanibar Guard had never used such a thing.

Still, actually submitting himself to the freezer—and Ariada’s tender mercies—was not a pleasant thought. Only his concern for Shara spurred him to lie down in the freezer. Immediately, the chilled vapor washed over him. The last thing he saw was Jaina getting into the other freezer. Then he knew nothing but piercing cold consuming, a cold that burned and seared even as it swallowed him. He tried to scream involuntarily, but found that he couldn’t. His awareness left him in a sudden rush of unconsciousness that trapped him in a freezing hell with no escape.