Force Exile V: Warrior/Part 13

27
Peering out from the side hatch of the Javelin shuttle, Bryndar could almost reach and touch leafy fronds as the craft skimmed over a towering ridge and entered a narrow canyon. The rocky cliffs on either side were inundated with foliage. Bryndar carefully scanned the valley floor, looking for the wreck of a starfighter that just might contain his wife.

“Any sign of an emergency beacon?” he asked.

“None so far,” the shuttle answered.

Bryndar swore under his breath as the shuttle wove through the jagged contours of the misty canyon. The shuttle dipped, dropping another hundred meters as it descended and slowed. Bryndar looked forward and saw that the shuttle was heading straight for a cliff face. He started to shout an alarm when it banked sharply, taking the turn so acutely that its belly nearly grazed the cliff face with a roll of almost ninety degrees. The commando swore again under his breath, this time at flyboy antics.

“The wreck is down there about half a klick. Clear for drop,” the shuttle pilot advised Bryndar. “Watch out for Vong, there’s probably plenty of them prowling around.”

“Copy,” Bryndar replied, staring down into the thickets and boulder fields that lined the steep slopes of the ridge and the narrow valley floor.

There was a bog down there also, judging by the mists and pools of water. The harsh terrain prevented the shuttle from landing and the narrow canyon walls meant that they couldn’t simply use their fibra-ropes to rappel down from a safe height.

Instead, Bryndar threw himself out of the door, plunging down the kilometer-odd drop. As he fell, he activated the repulsorpack he was wearing, slowing his fall to a reasonable speed. The other six remaining commandos of Cresh Squad plus one from Dorn Squad—Cresh Five had been severely injured while protecting the convoy and Dorn Five had volunteered to substitute—followed him in tight formation. Bryndar was elated they had all volunteered to help him on this mission, even though its outcome might only be the discovery of a corpse. They were like family to him and he was reassured because they had his back.

The eight armored soldiers landed at the edge of a marsh, surrounded by three-meter tall bulrushes and knee-deep in water. They quickly shucked their repulsorpacks and concealed them, staying alert for signs of Yuuzhan Vong activity. Once Bryndar was satisfied that all quadrants were clear, he found a mud bank.

“Grab some camouflage,” he said.

Slathering his armor with mud, he plastered loose rushes onto it as well. The rest of the commandos followed suit, then carefully erased traces of their disturbance as Bryndar signaled them forward. They moved deeper into the water until it was waist-deep. Enhancing the power of the repulsorlifts in their battlesuits allowed them to make headway in the stagnant water. Insects buzzed around them as they advanced in a staggered column, weapons tracking in all directions for any sign of the Yuuzhan Vong.

Within ten minutes, Bryndar caught sight of the downed Sabre II starfighter. It had plowed into a gully, coming to rest on a mud bank at the end of a trail of debris, half-turned on its side. The fact that the vehicle seemed to have made a semi-controlled belly landing seemed hopeful, but Bryndar knew better than to succumb to optimism. The cockpit was turned away from his commandos so he couldn’t see it. He gave a hand signal and the squad fanned out to approach the starfighter in a wave rather than a line. They continued the same slow, steady advance, weapons tracking as they slogged through the water and mud, deadly serious and as silent as possible. Cresh Seven held up one hand and the rest of the squad froze instantly. The squad sniper held up a finger, then tapped his helmet twice, signaling that he had detected one contact using thermal vision.

Bryndar tapped his chest strobe twice, referring to the infrared beacons that Yanibar Guard personnel used to avoid friendly fire. The signal communicated a query: was the contact wearing a strobe. Cresh Seven made a horizontal gesture with his hand, indicating a no. While the Yanibar Guard didn’t think the Yuuzhan Vong could eavesdrop on comlink communications, even detection of the transmission bursts could be enough to clue them in, so the commandos used hand signals.

“Cresh Lead, this is Gurrcat One,” the shuttle pilot told him. “We are outbound but thought you might want to know that thermals picked up lots of activity heading your way, at least a hundred.”

Bryndar grimaced, but made no reply. Instead, he beckoned his squad forward. If the lone contact was Yuuzhan Vong, they needed to deal with it and investigate the downed starfighter before the others arrived. The commandos closed in, vigilant for any sign of the contact. There was a relatively open area of the swamp with scarcely any rushes for cover. Bryndar crouched down so that everything from the shoulders down was submerged, knowing that the mists of the swamp were sparse concealment at best. After doing one last check, he and his commandos crossed through the small pond, heading for the embankment and the starfighter wreck on the other side. Just as he was about five meters from the starfighter, a blaster bolt tore through the mists to hit him in the head. The report was impossibly loud, reverberating through the narrow cliff walls. A second bolt and then a third pierced the mists as well, but while the second also clipped him, he ducked under the third.

Bryndar stumbled, surprised by the impact and even more surprised that he hadn’t detected the shooter before they fired. His personal shield lit up momentarily as it dissipated the energy. The fact that the weapon was a blaster was in and of itself reassuring and his squad had shown the presence of mind to not return fire.

“Paladin Twelve, cease fire,” he ordered gruffly using his helmet’s audio projection system. “We’re friendly.”

Thankfully, the blasterfire stopped. Bryndar and the commandos waded forward hurriedly to the starfighter, but no one was evident. He quickly noticed a trail through the mud and grass left by someone crawling away from the starfighter since there were no boot prints. He followed the trail to a clumped thicket. Prying away the branches, he was greeted by the snub-nosed barrel of an S-1D blaster pistol.

“Easy there,” Bryndar said as he stared down the barrel. “You’re safe now.”

He wiped away the mud so the person hiding inside the thicket could see the optical sensors on his helmet that resembled glowing red eyes.

“Code word,” he heard his wife’s voice demand weakly from inside the thicket.

The sound of her speaking was the sweetest thing Bryndar had heard in a week. Jasika was alive! A grin broke out across his face even though nobody could see it.

“Hello, beautiful,” he told her.

“I’m pretty sure that isn’t the code word,” Jasika replied as he widened the branches to reveal her curled up inside the thicket, arms and shoulders braced on top of a low-hanging branch to keep the blaster steady. “And my husband is going to have words with you about that after this.”

Bryndar pulled off his helmet so she could see his face.

“Well, I could do that, but it would be kind of awkward,” he told her with a roguish grin.

Her face brightened visibly as she recognized him.

“I was hoping you would come for me,” she said, but Bryndar noted the pained expression on her face, as well as the broken infrared strobe hanging around her neck.

That at least explained why she hadn’t been using one earlier.

“I’m here,” he reassured her. “What’s wrong?”

“Legs,” she said. “I think they’re both broken.”

Bryndar winced.

“All right, let’s get you out of there, then Six will take a look,” he told her.

As gently as he could, he lifted Jasika out of the thicket. She whimpered as her legs made contact with the branches. Bryndar beckoned Cresh Six, the medic, over and knelt by Jasika’s side.

“I think that’s enough adventure for one day,” he told her. “We’re going to take you back to base.”

She smiled up at him as the medic examined her legs.

“Sounds wonderful,” Jasika said.

“You’re one tough, lovable lady,” Bryndar remarked. “Crawling a dozen meters from your starfighter on broken legs after being shot down and then you blasted me.”

Her eyes widened.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Bryndar held up a hand to assuage her.

“Shield got it,” he said with a wry smile. “You got me in the head twice. Good shooting.”

Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Good teacher,” she answered, then she grew serious again. “I’m sorry, Bryndar. About everything. The Yanibar Guard. The fights. All of it.”

“Me too,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Hey boss, I hate to interrupt your impromptu date, but was this supposed to be an invite-only event?” Cresh Three asked him.

“What do you mean?” Bryndar asked.

“Oh, about a hundred Vong warriors are heading this way to crash the party. Should I check their holodocs to see if they’re with the band?” the irrepressible Three inquired, his words making light of a very serious situation.

“Stang,” Bryndar swore.

He turned back to Jasika for a moment.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he told her. “We’re going to make it.”

“With our lives, or our marriage?” she asked.

“Both,” he answered firmly.

Bryndar brought his helmet up to put it back on, but Jasika reached up to grab his arm, arresting the motion. He started to speak, but she leaned forward and kissed him, only for a second as she knew the urgency of the moment.

“Go get ‘em,” she whispered.

Bryndar nodded and he donned his helmet. Jasika caught just a glimpse of his face as it hardened and she knew what had happened. As much as Bryndar loved her, when he was working, he had to put her out of his mind. That hardening was his warfighter look, the deadly serious and incredibly demanding one that transformed him into almost a completely different person.

“We need to move,” Bryndar told Cresh Six. “Carry her if you have to. We’ll screen your retreat.”

The rest of the squad deployed mines around the crashed starfighter and then withdrew. Cresh Six slung Jasika over his shoulder and moved out second, with the temporary Cresh Five leading the way. Their departure was at first stealthy as they sought to create distance from the Yuuzhan Vong closing in on them. They were about four hundred meters from the wreck when the sound of muffled explosions reached them. A minute later, Cresh Seven gave a disheartening report.

“They found our trail. They’re coming.”

“Slow ‘em down,” Bryndar told the sniper.

The man turned and fired twice with the distinctive whirr-chirp of his S-5X sniper rifle.

“Got two, but that just made them angry,” he reported.

“It’s a race then,” Bryndar said. “Let’s go.”

Putting action to words, the commandos dashed forward, no longer carrying about stealth or concealment. Behind them they could hear the angry war cries of the Yuuzhan Vong as they chased them. Cresh Six moved Jasika to a cradling carry so that his shield would protect her. Thud bugs zoomed past them and the commandos shot them off as best as they could. Some of them slammed into shields, lighting them up. Bryndar stopped on a rock and swiveled around to cut loose with his S-2F blaster rifle. He strafed the rifle’s aiming point across the advancing warriors while holding down the trigger, then quickly leaped down. The rock exploded behind him as it caught a blast bug. The commandos sprinted forward. Occasionally, the third man in line would stop and fire behind them to slow down the Yuuzhan Vong advance, then take off running again, becoming the new last commando in the formation. This rotation allowed for some measure of cover fire as well as kept a relatively fresh shield in the back closer to the Yuuzhan Vong ordnance. Bryndar ducked as a razor bug skimmed over his head, bashing it with the butt of his blaster rifle as it zoomed over.

The Yuuzhan Vong pursued them relentlessly and Bryndar realized that they were catching up. A flight of razor bugs zoomed into the midst of the commandos. Cresh Six threw himself to the ground, shielding Jasika’s unarmored body with his own as the bugs sparked off his shield. Jasika screamed, but none of the bugs got through to reach her. Bryndar winced, knowing that the impact of her legs on the ground would have been painful, but he approved of Cresh Six’s actions nonetheless. The tactic allowed the Yuuzhan Vong to gain more ground and Bryndar hurled a thermal detonator back at them. The resulting explosion punished their faster runners, but Bryndar knew they would not cease their pursuit.

Soon the commandos were nearing the sharp bend in the canyon where the shuttle had taken the risky turn instead of flying over it. Bryndar recalled that the canyon on the other side was more open, with little cover. If they took the turn, they would be hunted down and killed.

“We’re going up,” he called, running straight for the ridge and pulling out his piton launcher.

The others followed suit, firing piton-bearing darts up at the sheer cliff face where the pitons sank in deeply to the rock. Cresh Six made sure to clip Jasika to himself before he fired his own. Activating the cable caused the darts to attempt to retract the line, hauling the commandos up the cliff face. Thud bugs smashed into the rock around them and several of the commandos swiveled around to lay down suppressing fire as they were hauled up by their fibra-ropes. Bryndar felt his shield light up as a thud bug smashed into his back, but the energy field held. The ascension caught the Yuuzhan Vong by surprise and soon eighty meters of vertical distance separated the commandos from their pursuers. They scrambled upward, climbing as best as they could, guided by their ETA helmet tactical AIs. In short order, Cresh Squad and their injured passenger were huddled on a rocky shelf sheltered by a small grove of trees. Thud bugs and razor bugs whizzed up after them, but the rocky lip afforded them a modicum of protection. Jasika was crying softly, her legs no doubt screaming in agony from bumping into the cliff wall during the trip upward.

“Get her some water and a pick-me-up,” Bryndar ordered as he positioned himself prone and peered over the edge of the rock shelf.

Sighting in, he opened fire, joining the other commandos except Cresh Six in blasting away at their pursuers. However, though they felled several Yuuzhan Vong warriors, a flurry of thrown living weapons followed, forcing the commandos to take cover.

“They’re starting to scale the walls,” Cresh Seven reported.

“Good on them,” Bryndar retorted, arming a concussion grenade and rolling it off the edge.

The muffled explosion a few seconds later knocked several of the Yuuzhan Vong to the ground lifelessly.

“Nice trick, but we don’t have enough dets to deal with all of them,” Cresh Two said. “We can’t just stay here.”

“It’s a stalemate for now,” Bryndar reported. “They have eighty meters to climb, and we can pick some of them off from here.”

“They’ll just get reinforced,” Cresh Two pointed out. “And once they do reach up here, it’s all hand-to-hand. We’ll lose. We need to keep going up.”

“The Vong will just surround us and the top of the ridgeline is too rugged to traverse on anything but hands and knees,” Bryndar reminded him.

He left unspoken the point that the commandos might have been able to manage it except for being burdened with an injured Jasika.

“Leave me here and get out,” Jasika offered. “I’ll hold them off while you escape.”

“We didn’t come all this way out here just to leave you again, ma’am,” Cresh Six told her.

“He’s right,” Bryndar said firmly. “If you stay, I stay.”

“And if he stays, we all stay,” Cresh Two added.

Bryndar leaned over the edge of the shelf, his rifle aimed straight down, and scythed fire through the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong swarming up the cliff face. A trio of thud bugs caught him, slamming him back roughly. His shield burst in a bevy of sparks.

“Stang, good aim,” Bryndar commented.

The commandos made piecemeal attempts to dissuade the climbers, hoping to avoid the incessant rain of projectiles that were thrown up at them.

“It’s just a matter of time until they bring in the heavy weapons,” Cresh Two commented.

“Cresh Lead, this is Home One. YGF reports enemy fliers inbound,” Bryndar heard the voice of a controller. “ETA five minutes.”

“Ah, there they are,” Cresh Two remarked acidly.

“You know, sometimes I hate it when you’re right,” Bryndar told him.

“Home One, Cresh Lead. We’ve been cut off from the rendezvous point and need evac.”

“Affirmative, Cresh Lead,” the controller said. “Evac untenable at your current position. Can you make it over the ridge?”

Bryndar looked up at the hundreds of meters of sheer canyon face looming over them.

“Not a chance, Home One,” he said. “Not before those fliers get here.”

The voice on the other end went silent, no doubt unsure of what to say.

“We’ve got more problems,” Cresh Seven reported. “Enemy warbeast, big one, moving down the canyon.”

Bryndar peeked over the edge, zooming in with his optical set to see a gargantuan four-legged war beast bristling with defensive dovin basals and plasma cannons slowly stomping them.

“Kriff,” he spat.

“Wow, boss, I wasn’t aware we ordered the deluxe package,” Cresh Three quipped. “Want me to take delivery for you?”

Bryndar frowned even as he rolled another detonator over the side. Without an injured, unarmored person, they could probably have escaped, but with Jasika in tow, there was no chance. Bryndar looked off at maximum zoom and saw the dim silhouettes of approaching aerial vehicles.

They were cut off and if the Yuuzhan Vong fliers didn’t get them, the approaching war beast packed enough weaponry to obliterate the squad. Bryndar reflected morbidly that death by bombardment would at least be faster than interrogation and torture at the hands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors. He rolled back over to Jasika even as the commandos blazed away at the Yuuzhan Vong while evading thrown missiles, hoping to exact a steep toll on the Yuuzhan Vong.

“Sorry, beautiful, we seem to have taken a wrong turn,” Bryndar told her, chewing his lip nervously. “We tried, but it wasn’t enough.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “I was the one who fired. The sound probably alerted them to your presence.”

“Let’s just skip the blame then,” he replied. “I want you to know that I love you very very much.”

Suddenly, an earsplitting roar split the skies. Ten Yanibar Guard Fleet starfighters screamed over the ridgeline riding columns of hot ion exhaust. The starfighters swooped forward, unloading lasers and missiles into the Yuuzhan Vong flying creatures while evading return fire from both the ground and air.

“And I kriffing love the Yanibar Guard Fleet right about now,” Bryndar exclaimed.

Jasika smiled up at him.

“We’ll put it on your tab, Cresh Lead,” Bryndar heard a deep voice.

“Absolutely,” Bryndar replied. “What outfit do I have the pleasure of buying drinks for?”

“Paladin Lead at your service,” the starfighter jockey replied. “Give us a second to deal with these fliers and we’ll clean up any groundpounders that are left.”

Bryndar nervously watched as the giant warbeast—he knew it was called a rakamat—continued its inexorable advance even as its weapons pointed skyward.

“We might have a problem with that,” Bryndar told the flyboy.

“Seems you have it well under control,” Paladin Lead said. “We’ll swing around as soon we can—sorry it took so long to get here. We just heard that Twelve was still alive.”

Bryndar was about to point out the urgency of their situation when he heard the sound of a loud whoosh as a dozen missiles ejected themselves violently from their racks. He looked down to see a quartet of hulking Avatar walkers rounding the bend of the ridge. Purple streams of laser cannon fire hosed down the rakamat, followed by more missiles. The beast returned fire, but their shields held. One of the Avatars sported a rail cannon on its centerline torso and it boomed loudly. The round slammed into the beast, unmitigated by defensive dovin basals that were otherwise diverted. The resulting wound caused the creature to stagger. The Avatars continued to pummel it repeatedly, slowly shredding it with weapons fire.

“Cresh Lead, this is Steel. Heard you had some Vong trouble?”

“What, did everyone hear that we give free drinks to people who save our asses and want a piece of the action?” Bryndar retorted jocularly.

“If you like, we can leave,” Steel answered in kind.

Bryndar watched as one of the Avatars turned to deal with the Yuuzhan Vong infantry that had been ineffectually assailing it and its fellows. Twin gouts of flame swept out from the Avatar to consume the Yuuzhan Vong. From his vantage point, it looked to Bryndar as if the walker had ignited a sea of fire on the ground, a burning crescent that splashed up against the cliff face.

“Burn and die,” called a stern female voice as the firestorm burned.

“I have got to get me one of those,” Cresh Three breathed.

Bryndar smirked at his remarks. The Paladins seemed to have quickly cleared out the Yuuzhan Vong aerial opposition while the Avatars finally finished off the rakamat.

“Sorry about the sneakiness, Cresh Lead, but we wanted to make sure the Vong didn’t know we were coming,” Steel informed him. “We caught a good portion of their forces out here off guard with your help.”

“Thanks,” Bryndar answered. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you. What are Avatars doing this far from the base?”

“Well, besides saving commandos, we were on patrol out here when the Vong attacked the base. We were waiting at the rendezvous point when we got your distress call and figured it was better to go fight some Vong than sit around.”

“Much obliged,” Bryndar said. “Will you get in trouble for that?”

“Not likely,” Steel said. “We have some. . . leeway in our tasking. We’ll stay around here until you’re away, then head back to the rendezvous point.”

“Fleet reports evac shuttle inbound,” Paladin Lead broke in. “ETA one minute. We diverted one for you. It’ll be crowded, but I don’t think you’ll mind.”

“Not at all,” Bryndar said.

He squeezed Jasika’s hand as she smiled up at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Two minutes later, the commandos and Jasika were piled into a Javelin shuttle headed back over the ridge to the Yanibar Guard base and escorted by Paladin Squadron, safe at last.


 * Bloodthirster

Ryion burst into the chamber where he had seen Tsaruuk flee, lightsaber ready. He heard a whirring sound and instinctively threw up his shield. A thud bug smashed into it, jarring his forearm and shoulder before ricocheting off. Ryion whipped his violet lightsaber blade across the bug’s flight path, incinerating it. The chamber was dark, but his goggles allowed him to see without difficulty. He scanned the room in thermal mode and soon located Tsaruuk lurking off to one side, an amphistaff in hand. Ryion advanced slowly, keeping an eye out for blorash jelly traps this time.

“Persistent, I applaud that,” Tsaruuk said as he advanced. “And bold, charging after me without assistance. What if this was a trap?”

“As I seem to recall, trapping us hasn’t worked so well the last couple times,” Ryion retorted, his voice heated and angry.

Leaping high, he attacked Tsaruuk, slashing toward him with a blow aimed at severing his head from his neck. Tsaruuk countered with a smashing parry that threw Ryion off balance when he landed, his bruised ankles still sore from the trauma inflicted by the blorash jelly. The young Jedi recovered quickly even as Tsaruuk stabbed out with his amphistaff. Ryion again caught the strike on his shield, causing the metal to ring with the impact. He fell back as Tsaruuk followed him, pounding away at his defenses with precise and powerful attacks, always careful to switch the amphistaff between whip and spear and club form. The Yuuzhan Vong was a master of deception and time and time again, Ryion was barely able to deflect or parry his attacks.

Ryion side-stepped one vicious thrust of the amphistaff’s pointed end, slashing at Tsaruuk’s shoulder with his lightsaber. The blade cut into the vonduun crab armor, but did not pierce it. Tsaruuk snarled and punched at Ryion’s face. Ryion threw up his shield to defend against it, but the force of the blow ignited a spasm of pain in his left shoulder as it was nearly dislocated. The amphistaff suddenly went flexible, seeking to stab him in the back, but Ryion pivoted and whipped his lightsaber around over his shoulder to knock the amphistaff’s tail away, averting what would have been a serious wound. However, even as he did that, Tsaruuk lowered his body and charged at Ryion, tackling him to the floor. Knowing that falling onto his own lightsaber blade would be fatal, Ryion was forced to deactivate the weapon as Tsaruuk slammed him into the floor. Even as he fell, Ryion attempted to bring his arm back around, but Tsaruuk smashed the head of his amphistaff into his weapon hand. Ryion caught the blow with the emitter nozzle of his lightsaber, but the force was sufficient to drive the weapon out of his suddenly numb fingers.

Landing hard on his back, Ryion saw Tsaruuk bring the amphistaff up for a stabbing attempt, but he still had his shield and the sturdy metal plate turned away the strike at the cost of further punishment on his already aggravated shoulder. Tsaruuk hammered away at him repeatedly with the amphistaff, but Ryion diverted all his focus into using his shield, bracing it two-handed to deflect the attacks. As such, the only damage Tsaruuk inflicted was a couple minor cuts and bruises. Tsaruuk growled and stomped downward powerfully. Ryion screamed as the foot connected with his lower abdomen and groin, his back arching involuntarily with the pain. Tsaruuk grinned and pressed down, enjoying his adversary’s torment. Despite the waves of agony washing over him, Ryion kicked out powerfully with his free leg, tossing Tsaruuk back several meters. The amphistaff spat venom at him in response but it splashed harmlessly against Ryion’s shield.

Ryion leapt to his feet, shunting away the pain with the Force and summoning his lightsaber back to his hand. Unwilling to let Tsaruuk recover, he attacked quickly. By now, the adrenaline coursing through his system had re-energized him and he sought to control it, to sink into the Force and fight in a controlled fashion. The knowledge that he was facing the Yuuzhan Vong responsible for all the bloodshed on Ord Pardron and now Rishi filled him with anger and he struggled to restrain himself even as his lightsaber sparked against Tsaruuk’s amphistaff.

Tsaruuk was using his size and strength advantage, as well as his relative immunity to glancing blows, to good effect. He fought back with practiced strength, his amphistaff always probing and seeking an opening in Ryion’s defenses, forcing the Jedi to spend most of his effort defending himself. Ryion’s shoulder throbbed as his lower body protested with each step. He was forced to use both shield and lightsaber to stop a powerful undercut from Tsaruuk since he wasn’t sure if he could jump over it in time. The instant of vulnerability resulted in a backhand across the face that sent him staggering back, his goggles broken and driven up into his face. Half-blinded, Ryion set himself to defend against a follow-up blow, but none came. Instead, there was a tremendous explosion against his shield and a sudden sensation of heat. Ryion hurled off the now-useless goggles with the Force so he could see what had happened.

Magma was sliding along the shield and even with the layer of bonded boron carbide behind the metal to insulate, the tremendous heat was seeping through newly-formed cracks in the carbide, nearly to the point of burning. Ryion quickly shucked his arm free of the shield straps, hurling the shield to the ground before the magma seeped through.

“Impressive,” Tsaruuk remarked. “I have never before seen an enemy actually survive an impact from a magma pebble.”

He held up two more of the rocky projectiles, hurling them at Ryion. Wise to the danger, Ryion hurled the shield into both of them. The resulting detonations doused the floor with burning magma, creating dangerous pools where even a single misstep could prove crippling.

“I am glad I can say that I have at last fought a Jeedai,” Tsaruuk told him. “Your forces here have been my most worthy foes. You have fought well, but this ends here.”

Ryion glared at him, disregarding his relative vulnerability without the shield to help deflect Tsaruuk’s attacks. Brandishing his lightsaber two-handed, he set himself in a ready stance, prepared to continue combat.

“You’re right,” he said. “It does.”

Ryion attacked again, but this time, it was different. He was no longer trying to control his emotions and feelings. He had tried that and it had failed him. Ryion could not fight against Tsaruuk, who had incited so much suffering and death, while keeping his mind closed off to his atrocities. This diversion of a certain portion of focus to such mental detachment was distracting him from pitting every fiber of his being against the Yuuzhan Vong. Perhaps his father or Morgedh could have done so, but Ryion was too invested in this fight after having seen the result of Tsaruuk’s actions. The effort required to maintain his emotional distance was siphoning his focus away, so Ryion made no attempt to do so.

Instead, he embraced the antithesis of that philosophy, drawing on his emotions and accepting that somewhere deep inside him, in an inner dark spot that he had tried to suppress for so many years, that he wanted Tsaruuk to suffer and die just as so many others had done by the Yuuzhan Vong’s hand. He embraced that feeling and it mingled with his sense of justice, but it did not overmaster him. Instead, he channeled it into his arms, into his bladework. A chill ran down Ryion’s spine as he realized that his lightsaber was moving so fast that it seemed to have a life of its own, and he knew that in embracing his own emotions and directing them into the fight, he was incorporating Vaapad, just as Depa Billaba had shown him.

Within seconds, Ryion’s lightsaber had left a half-dozen smoldering gashes on Tsaruuk’s armor. Ryion no longer cared to set himself in careful defensive stances. Instead, he intentionally left himself open to counterattack so he could punish Tsaruuk when the Yuuzhan Vong struck. The humming purple bar of energy blended its attacks together with liquid precision, cracking and popping when it collided with vonduun crab armor or amphistaff. Ryion was vaguely aware that he was moving faster than he had ever fought before. He was no longer in control of his emotions, only controlling the direction and means where they were expressed. His sense of purpose drove him forward, spurring him to attack, while the Force guided his hands. Ryion knew that his motion was constantly unpredictable, switching from short, staccato strikes, to a sudden flurry of blows attacking from every angle at seemingly random moments.

Tsaruuk learned not to attack when Ryion was seemingly vulnerable, discovering that the Jedi would only punish him further. While his vonduun crab armor and amphistaff were incredibly durable, Tsaruuk was surprised at his foe’s sudden switch to relentless and unpredictable offense. The Yuuzhan Vong fought defensively, but his warrior’s instincts led him to still seek attempts to strike Ryion. Ryion launched three overhand chops at Tsaruuk, which the warrior blocked. Seeing Ryion’s belly vulnerable, he attempted to stab him, only for the lightsaber to reverse itself impossibly fast and knock the amphistaff back into his chest. A successive slash sliced through a weakened piece of the vonduun crab, drawing a line of seared flesh across Tsaruuk’s thigh. It was a minor wound, but Tsaruuk took it as an indicator that his opponent was slowly overpowering him through his sudden and explosive change in tactics. Realizing that Ryion was seeking to corner him and then slice him to pieces, Tsaruuk leapt back, hurling another magma pebble into the ground. The eruption of molten rock only briefly stayed Ryion, who gazed at him with implacable resolve.

“This is Vaapad, Tsaruuk,” Ryion informed him. “How much longer do you think you can keep this up?”

“You may kill me, Jeedai, but my warriors will swarm this place. You and your companions will eventually be imprisoned, even if not all of you survive. There is no escape for you and you are too cowardly to deny me the prize that will be mine, even at the cost of my life,” Tsaruuk returned. “There is no victory here for you.”

Ryion was about to spit out a sharp retort when suddenly, a villip behind Tsaruuk began quaking and vibrating as the individual connected to the sister villip attempted to contact him.

“I think that’s for you,” Ryion remarked sardonically just as his wrist computer beeped, indicating an incoming transmission.

A second later, the beep shifted a double-buzz, signifying a priority message. Ryion glanced at it, noting that the transmission was from his father as a small holographic silhouette of Selu appeared from the buzzing comlink in his wrist gauntlet. His eyes quickly returned to Tsaruuk who was still facing him, but seemed concerned by the villip.

“We seem to be popular,” Ryion quipped. “Maybe you should answer that.”

Sidestepping slowly, lightsaber still held at the ready, Ryion kept his gaze fixed on Tsaruuk, who was mirroring his motion and had reached over and stroked the eversion stoma on the villip begrudgingly. The visage of a Yuuzhan Vong appeared and began speaking. Thankfully for Ryion, a translation module equipped with the New Republic’s latest lexicon of Yuuzhan Vong had been installed in his earpiece. Noticing that Tsaruuk seemed to be at least listening to the warrior, Ryion took the opportunity to play the transmission he was receiving, momentarily holding off from closing the gap between them and unleashing the full force of Vaapad again.

“Commander Tsaruuk, Our main body of ground troops has slain many of the infidels on the ground, including hundreds of the Chalactans we came to seek. We are preparing to push through and destroy their infidel base on the ground,” the warrior reported after Tsaruuk glared at him, gesticulating for his report.

“It appears your encampment and the infidel refugees you were protecting will soon be destroyed,” Tsaruuk informed him maliciously.

“I heard,” Ryion replied evenly. “But I just heard that your fleet in space has been routed. The remnants are about to hunted down and wiped out, and then we’ll see how that ground battle goes.”

Tsaruuk shot an angry sidelong glance at the villip.

“Is the infidel speaking truth?”

“That is what I have heard from the ship master who has taken charge,” the warrior admitted sheepishly. “Less than one third of the ships remain.”

“And the infidel fleet?” Tsaruuk demanded.

“Mostly intact.”

Tsaruuk glowered at Ryion, having run the numbers and calculated that even if his force could be reunited with the remnants of the fleet, he would still be outgunned. He might be able to inflict significant harm on the infidel fleet, but they would prevail. However, if his squadron remained isolated, then both formations could be hunted down and destroyed, making any victory on the ground an empty one, as the infidels could then scour the world and blast his troops from the skies. Tsaruuk had already exhausted his limits with Tsavong Lah and knew garnering more reinforcements would be impossible.

“We still have the prisoners on this ship,” Tsaruuk pointed out to Ryion. “If your fleet does not break off pursuit, I will have them killed. Tell that to your leader.” Ryion directed a steely gaze at the Yuuzhan Vong warrior.

“The prisoners are still free for the moment,” he said. “Moreover, if you kill us, your squadron will be trapped here forever until you run out of food and oxygen. I hear starvation is a terrible way to die.” Tsaruuk’s gaze was wrathful, but the Yuuzhan Vong remained rational.

“So you do have a way to escape the trap you laid for us,” Tsaruuk remarked. “I suspected as much.”

“A way which is utterly inaccessible to you,” Ryion warned him. “There are only two people who can activate it without it self-destructing, and if I can’t get all of my people off of this ship, I will most certainly make sure you never get to kill another innocent person again.”

“Innocent, Jeedai?” Tsaruuk scoffed. “You speak of innocents to me when your entire galaxy is polluted by infidel abominations and heresy?”

“And who ordained those things as abominations and heresy?” Ryion asked.

“They are affronts to the gods,” Tsaruuk declared.

“Did the gods tell you that?” Ryion replied. “Or did you hear it from their representatives? Was it the gods that told you that the Yuuzhan Vong needed to launch some glorious conquest of this galaxy, or did you learn that secondhand too?”

Tsaruuk was irate, incensed by Ryion’s words.

“Your insults will not go unpunished,” he said.

“So it was secondhand,” Ryion surmised. “And here I was starting to think you were smart. You don’t think for the slightest moment that those emissaries of the divine had anything to gain by recommending invasion? Or how about the warriors they were consorting with?”

“Priests and warriors would never mingle like that,” Tsaruuk snarled. “That would be blasphemous, just like you and your machine abominations.”

Ryion sighed. He hoped to plant some seeds of doubt in Tsaruuk to help sway him from his bloodlust and the path of mutual annihilation, but the Yuuzhan Vong was recalcitrant. The Force flowed through him and crackled around his skin as he kept it contained, ready to unleash a burst of crippling Force lightning at Tsaruuk. Still, perhaps the warrior deserved one last entreaty.

“This won’t end well for you,” Ryion warned him. “I am fully capable of and prepared to kill you.”

“If I die, so do all your companions,” Tsaruuk spat.

“If they die, then your entire fleet here will perish,” Ryion returned bluntly. “As will the remnant of ships that has already been defeated and the troops you have on the ground.”

“Not before your infidel encampment is overrun. Many of your soldiers will die, as will the civilians you are attempting to protect,” Tsaruuk said. “There will be no victory for you here.”

“I can accept that,” Ryion answered. “Can you?”

“The Yuuzhan Vong do not fear death,” Tsaruuk snapped, but there was a moment’s hesitation that clued Ryion in.

“Yes, but you have no desire to die senselessly, do you?” Ryion asked. “Neither do I. Perhaps we can negotiate an agreement?”

“Why should I listen to you?” Tsaruuk growled, brandishing his amphistaff.

Ryion frowned and raised one hand. Lightning crackled as it flew from his fingers to hit Tsaruuk, engulfing him in tendrils of energy. The Yuuzhan Vong was hurled back into the wall, limbs twitching spastically. Tsaruuk was still conscious, judging from his groans, which was good because Ryion wasn’t finished yet. He muttered something into his comlink while Tsaruuk lay prone and nodded satisfactorily when he received an affirmative answer.

“I’m not done talking,” Ryion told him sternly. “We can either destroy each other, in which both sides lose, but numerically speaking, you lose more since a good portion of our fleet will escape. Or, we can call a truce.”

“What?” Tsaruuk asked incredulously.

“We both stop fighting,” Ryion explained. “You will let me and all of my people escape from this ship unmolested and your ground troops will cease their assault on Rishi and our base there and return all prisoners you have taken. Instead, those warriors will withdraw from Rishi completely. In return, our fleet will not give your remaining ships the destruction they so richly deserve and we won’t pulverize your ground troops either. I’ll even give you a way to get this squadron here a way back to Coruscant. Neither side has to lose any more lives. We put past grievances aside until after your forces have left this system.”

“Why would I agree to something like that?” Tsaruuk snarled.

“Because the prospect of pointless annihilation doesn’t sit well with you,” Ryion said. “If it did, you would have already ordered the prisoners to be killed, or you would have destroyed our shuttle on the way in. You want something out of this, Tsaruuk. I’m giving you a way out.”

Tsaruuk glared at Ryion as he slowly stood to his feet.

“Why should I trust you?”

“The same reason I didn’t kill you when I had the chance,” Ryion said. “Because I’m a better person than you are.”

“Strong words from an infidel weakling,” Tsaruuk scoffed.

“Strong words from the warrior who can’t even pick his nose right now,” Ryion retorted. “Either we have a deal or I kill you and re-negotiate with your second-in-command and so on until I find a Yuuzhan Vong with some sense.”

“How do you know you can trust me?”

“I don’t,” Ryion said. “But it’s really quite simple. If you attempt to backstab us in the next six hours, we destroy you and you destroy as many of us as you can. In which we both lose, just the Yuuzhan Vong lose more. We know about what you did at Ithor, and if you try it here, we’ll be ready.”

“And you would set aside all past grievances?” Tsaruuk pressed as he slowly heaved himself off the deck, having partially recovered from the electrical surge Ryion had inflicted on him.

“Yes, despite all of the terrible things you’ve done and probably will do, I’m willing to put that on hold for now,” Ryion said with a frown, wondering why Tsaruuk would belabor this point so heavily.

Tsaruuk gave him an evil grin.

“Then I accept,” he said, coiling the amphistaff around his wrist and stalking uneasily over to the villip.

“Did you hear that?” Ryion asked, speaking into his comlink.

“I heard,” Selu replied. “And the terms are acceptable. Tell him he has six hours to get all of his forces off of Rishi. That’s long enough to withdraw, not long enough to call in reinforcements.”

“Not all of my warriors may comply,” Tsaruuk warned Ryion. “Some of them are stubborn.”

“We will defend ourselves as necessary,” Ryion answered as he deactivated his lightsaber, but kept it in hand. “Thank you for your honesty.”

Tsaruuk grabbed the villip.

“All forces are to break off attack and withdraw from Rishi,” he ordered. “Do not engage the infidels at all. Relay that order to warriors under my command.”

“Great One,” the warrior protested.

“Do it,” Tsaruuk insisted. “Or I will come down there and gut you myself. You have your orders.”

He stroked the villip again and it reverted. Tsaruuk turned to face Ryion.

“Just so you know, your doom is already laid, Jeedai,” he gloated. “My warrior scouts have found both of your planets. Nothing you have done here will matter once the full might of the Yuuzhan Vong is brought to bear. Your worlds are doomed.”

Ryion was momentarily confused by the mention of two worlds since the only homeworld he knew of was Yanibar. A chill ran down his spine as he contemplated the Yuuzhan Vong reaching Yanibar, but he also knew that the DMS minefield would protect them from any direct assault, and that the defense of Rishi had bought enough time for the minefield to be brought online and even reinforced. Tsaruuk’s threat was emptier than the warrior realized. As for the other world, Ryion recalled what the projection of Milya had said about defeating a group of warriors; she would have mentioned if some had escaped. However, he could not stop concern for Yanibar from being reflected in his facial expression.

His hand tightened around the lightsaber hilt, finger probing for the activation stud, but he restrained himself. Tsaruuk was a murderous butcher and a bloodthirsty conqueror, but Ryion would not gain anything by killing him and violating the truce. As many of the Yanibar Guard as possible would be needed to defend Yanibar, if it came to that. Ryion exhaled slowly, releasing his anger. He would choose the honorable path, knowing that his choices had impact beyond satisfying his own emotions.

“One day, Tsaruuk, you’ll be brought to justice for that,” Ryion warned him. “That’s a promise. Until then, I’ll count our taking out both groups of warriors that found those worlds as a down payment.”

In truth, Ryion had no idea if the Yuuzhan Vong that Tsaruuk had claimed had located Yanibar had been killed, but he couldn’t imagine a Yuuzhan Vong scout ship escaping from the extensive defenses around Yanibar. It was a safe assumption.

“What did you say?” Tsaruuk asked suddenly, the menace gone from his voice.

“I said we took out your scouting parties,” Ryion answered slowly.

Tsaruuk gave him no reply, stalking over to one of the villips. He stroked it hurriedly, but the creature did not evert. The Yuuzhan Vong hissed, his shoulders shaking. Ryion brought the lightsaber up to a ready stance but did not ignite it, unwilling to risk provoking the Tsaruuk further.

“If you are speaking the truth, then you have cost me more dearly than I could have thought,” Tsaruuk said bitterly. “Did your infidels fight a female warrior among these scouts?”

“I don’t know,” Ryion answered evasively. “They might have been destroyed in space.”

“Find out,” Tsaruuk snarled viciously. “Or this truce is off.”

Ryion stiffened.

“All right,” he said, tapping his comlink. “Do you think you can find out?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Selu answered. “I’ll need to get in touch with both ends and find out what’s going on.”

Ryion waited for another tense two minutes, uneasy at seeing the vitriol reflected in Tsaruuk’s eyes and his hunched-over posture. Then, a projection of Milya appeared in the room. Tsaruuk started in surprise, reaching for the amphistaff.

“It’s just a message,” Ryion reassured him.

“Infidel sorcery,” Tsaruuk muttered.

“What is it, Ryion?” Milya asked.

“I’m in a room with Tsaruuk, the Yuuzhan Vong commander,” Ryion informed her. “He’s agreed to a truce of sorts so we don’t destroy each other, but he wants me to pass on a question to you. We’re obliging him in good faith. Out of those Yuuzhan Vong you fought, did you kill them all?”

“Yes,” Milya said. “And their ship. Nothing escaped.”

“And was there a female warrior among the warriors you fought?” Ryion asked, glancing at Tsaruuk.

“Also correct,” Milya answered slowly. “An incredible fighter.”

“So she’s dead?” Ryion pressed.

“Yes, after a hard battle,” Milya said. “Nearly cut me to pieces.”

Tsaruuk slammed a fist into his own leg.

“Is there anything else?” Ryion asked him.

“She was my mate,” Tsaruuk grated out the admission, glaring at the apparition of Milya.

“What is this about, Ryion?” Milya asked him, as she was unable to hear or see Tsaruuk.

“You killed his wife,” Ryion replied.

“It was her or us,” Milya said bluntly. “She didn’t give me a choice.”

“I understand,” Ryion told her, drawing on his limited knowledge of Yuuzhan Vong culture. “I believe Tsaruuk might appreciate it if we sent her back to her people for their funerary rites.”

To her credit, Milya kept her reaction appropriately restrained and solemn, choosing her words carefully.

“I can arrange that for a warrior of her caliber,” she said.

“Yes,” Tsaruuk hissed. “Send her back, infidel, so she may be treated honorably.”

“We will,” Ryion said. “You’ll find that we’re good at keeping our word.”

“So am I,” Tsaruuk snarled. “And I promise you that I will see you and your world burn. I will have my revenge!”

Ryion stood ready in case the Yuuzhan Vong decided to attack him, but Tsaruuk hunched back over the non-responsive villip.

“Leave, Jeedai, before I change my mind,” Tsaruuk ground out. “If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

Ryion retreated cautiously, lightsaber still in hand.

“Remember, six hours,” Ryion warned him.

“I heard you the first time, infidel,” Tsaruuk growled. “Leave the way you came.”

Sensing that the Yuuzhan Vong was in a dangerous mood, Ryion left the chamber. He was alert for any sign of an ambush, but he saw no sign of any Yuuzhan Vong as he withdrew, retracing the steps he had taken since his and Zeyn’s intrusion into the warship. He found Zeyn, Kyle, and the other prisoners at the shuttle, also unmolested. Zeyn had been listening in during his negotiations and attempted to ply him with questions, but Ryion cut him off curtly, insisting that they focus on leaving the Yuuzhan Vong ship and forestall any other conversation until later. Seeing the grim expression on his face, Zeyn wisely acquiesced.

28
The four Dark Jedi advanced through the narrow neck of the frigate, heading aft towards the engineering section. The glowpanels overhead flickered as they strode purposefully, lightsabers in hand but not lit. Ariada brought up the rear, extending her Force senses as best as she could, but could not detect Morgedh.

“There is no response from the engineering crew,” Krakadas reported, holding up his comlink. “I sense less than half of the life forms that should be in the aft section.”

“Do you sense the intruder?” Therior demanded from the head of their group.

“If you are so powerful, Therior, shouldn’t you sense him yourself?” Krakadas shot back.

Leaving the long corridor, the four approached a pair of blast doors that led into the aft section. They slid open at a gesture from Therior and they entered an atrium. The room was deserted and quiet—normally several officers would be here overseeing power flow to the forward section—but now only the soft humming of machinery with an intermittent beep from some computer system could be heard. There was a faint hissing sound from the air vents. The four control stations arranged in a ring around a cluster of seats were empty and the lighting was powered down to just the emergency red panels, casting shadows around the room. Ariada looked closer at the control stations and saw a pile of bodies lying there. She gasped, bringing up her lightsaber. Judging by the way the others stiffened a second later, they had seen the corpses as well. Then several things happened simultaneously with eerie coordination. The blast doors closed behind them, the overhead glowpanels activated to full power, and a small silhouette stepped out from where he had been lurking behind the foremost control panel.

“You have trespassed in this space,” Morgedh clan Kel’nerh rumbled ominously. “Unleashed destruction and treachery on our people. And for that, you will pay.”

A golden energy blade sprang into existence in his right hand and he brought it up to a guard position. The Dark Jedi all ignited their weapons. With a savage cry, Therior sprang at him, cutting low, but Morgedh was too fast, easily blocking the blade, then flipping up and over himself to kick Therior in the face, sending him staggering back. The other Dark Jedi followed their leader, but Ariada hung back, two of her shotos activated but not eager to dive into the fray.

The Noghri landed besides Aspra Serpaddis who hastily parried Morgedh’s slash at his midsection. Krakadas chopped at Morgedh from behind, who blocked the blow. Sensing that Aspra Serpaddis was about to counter-attack, the Noghri reversed again, kicking Therior in the back and then darting past him. Before Aspra Serpaddis could follow, Morgedh flicked his free hand out, telekinetically slamming the Thisspiassian into the blast doors.

The agile Noghri soon found himself beset by Krakadas and Therior, whose crimson lightsabers stabbed and slashed at him. Employing the Ataru form, Morgedh stayed easily out of reach, parrying their blows and eluding their attempts to corner him. Ducking under a horizontal slash from Krakadas, Morgedh dove forward, landing splayed out on two feet and a hand, his saber arm held high to block the strike from Therior. Pivoting on his left hand, Morgedh spun around and kicked Therior’s feet out from under him. By now, Aspra Serpaddis had re-entered the fray, but Morgedh had positioned himself so the Thisspiassian stood between him and Krakadas. Morgedh’s blade flashed impossibly fast and while the Thisspiassian was an excellent duelist, he had never before fought an opponent of Morgedh’s caliber.

Despite his diminutive stature, Morgedh had excellent balance and technique, and constantly forcing Aspra Serpaddis to stoop to attack him had its advantages. The Thisspiassian attempted to maintain a defensive posture, incorporating elements of Soresu and Shien, but Morgedh was too elusive. What saber technique Aspra Serpaddis had learned was secondhand, from bits and fragments gleaned from ancient texts. Morgedh clan Kel’nerh had been dueling opponents classically trained by Jedi battlemasters in lightsaber combat for twenty-four years. Three quick blows in rapid succession brought the Thisspiassian’s lightsaber blow low to block and kept it there. When Aspra Serpaddis whipped his crimson blade overhand for the obvious counter-attack at Morgedh’s head, the Noghri simply sliced upward, his golden lightsaber catching the last two centimeters of his opponent’s weapon. The crimson blade vanished instantly, but even as Morgedh prepared to deliver a fatal stab, his danger sense alerted him to a threat from behind. He reversed his lightsaber behind him to bat away a thrown shoto from Ariada just seconds before it knifed into his back. He kicked Aspra Serpaddis in the gut, doubling him over, and wheeled to face her.

“Always the traitorous blow with you,” he said. “Always aimed to cripple in the time of greatest need.”

“I never wanted this to happen,” she protested.

“You are my greatest failure,” he pronounced. “Now there is only way to correct that mistake.”

Sensing Krakadas and Therior approach from behind, Morgedh backflipped over both of them. While a trained Makashi or Soresu duelist would have cut him to pieces for that maneuver, Morgedh’s quick reactions easily deflected their clumsy slashes. Landing gracefully, Morgedh was already attacking even as they twisted around. His blade locked momentarily with Therior’s, then Morgedh worked it in a skittering corkscrew fashion that Ariada knew all too well. His lightsaber blade bounced along Therior’s and only the Dark Jedi’s hasty block saved him from losing an arm. As it was, Morgedh’s lightsaber grazed his left bicep.

Krakadas attempted to intervene, chopping down at Morgedh, but found himself trapped in a tremendous Force grip. Morgedh hurled him into the wall with enough force to crack ribs. Therior backed away, nursing his wounded arm. Now the Noghri was free to attack the unarmed Aspra Serpaddis and he advanced relentlessly.

“Stop!” Ariada called. “He’s unarmed, Morgedh.”

“A trained Force-user is never unarmed,” he replied, forcing her to leap forward and deflect the blow that would have sliced the Thisspiassian in half.

Her two shotos crossed against his single lightsaber blade with a loud crackle. Undaunted, he unleashed a blast of telekinetic energy that slammed Aspra Serpaddis into the blast doors for a second time, now with enough force to stun the serpentine alien.

“How did you stoop so low, Ariada?” he hissed. “How did you fall so far?”

“You were holding me back,” she replied angrily, attempting to shove him back.

To her alarm, she found that his strength was more than a match for hers. In fact, he was driving her trembling arms back inexorably, millimeter by millimeter, forcing the humming blades back towards her face. She let out a loud cry as she desperately tried to halt the increasingly-perilous saber lock. Then, her bag slid open and the third shoto launched itself at Morgedh and ignited, telekinetically guided by her mind. The threat forced Morgedh to break off the saber lock and knock it away.

“And so now that you have your freedom, you use it to attack the people who only ever cared for you?” Morgedh demanded, spinning back even as Therior and Krakadas closed in.

The Noghri was demonstrating the full mobility of Ataru even in the enclosed space, evading the attacks of the Dark Jedi, always on the attack. He kept them off-balance by constantly moving, his lightsaber hammering away at their defenses.

“This was not my idea,” Ariada grated out. “I never wanted them to come here. I was forced!”

“Then truly you have learned nothing from me,” Morgedh said. “There is always a choice.”

Morgedh parried Therior’s downward stab then spun back to block Krakadas’ horizontal slash. With the backswing of the same blow, he nearly impaled Therior, who had to leap back to avoid the sudden counterblow.

“Ariada, you have betrayed everything you ever stood for. Hundreds of Guardsmen, people you swore to serve alongside, are dead because of your treachery.”

“I did not kill them,” Ariada insisted.

“You are as guilty as if you had pulled the trigger,” Morgedh replied evenly as he hacked away at Krakadas, battering at the Dark Jedi’s defense. “These evil beings never would have come here if not for you.”

Morgedh forced Krakadas to block low or risk losing his feet at the ankles, then jumped up, planting both feet in the Dark Jedi’s chest before he could react. The tremendous kick punished already broken ribs, sending Krakadas flying backward to collide heavily with the wall. This left Therior to face Morgedh alone since Ariada had shown no interest in fighting Morgedh aside from defending Aspra Serpaddis. Faced by the formidable Noghri, who showed no signs of tiring, and already wounded, Therior grew desperate.

“Help me, Ariada! Or he’ll kill us all!” Therior shouted.

The Dark Jedi switched to sweeping power blows, hoping to overpower Morgedh by brute strength alone, or at least hold him off until Krakadas recovered. Morgedh, sensing that he was being hemmed in, suddenly abandoned Ataru. Instead, the Noghri infused elements of Djem So into his saberwork. Therior found his own power blows being matched by equally strong Force-enhanced attacks from Morgedh, who had the benefit of being unwounded. Ariada looked on as Morgedh proceeded to drive the much bigger Therior back almost effortlessly. She was unsure of whether or not to enter the fight and she didn’t know who she hated more, Morgedh, or Therior. Torn by indecision, she did nothing as Morgedh smashed Therior’s lightsaber blade back. Therior leapt back and roared with anger, unleashing a powerful overhand blow that would cleave Morgedh in two.

The Noghri dropped to his knees so Therior’s full stroke brought the Dark Jedi slightly off balance, and struck upward, parrying the blow with his lightsaber perpendicular to Therior’s. The crimson and golden lightsabers locked for a moment, crackling and sparking, then Morgedh’s weapon flashed in an odd sawing motion along the crimson lightsaber blade as if he was trying to break Therior’s lightsaber blade. If that was his intent, it was unsuccessful. However, too focused on pressing Morgedh into the ground, Therior had not realized his peril. Looking down, he saw three smoking holes in his belly where Morgedh’s lightsaber had slid across his red one and stabbed him multiple times in the blink of an eye. The Dark Jedi gasped in surprise, blinked once, and then collapsed to his knees before falling over lifeless. His lightsaber de-activated upon landing on the deck and Morgedh stepped over his corpse to advance on Ariada.

“You have been found guilty of high treason and accessory to murder,” the Noghri informed her grimly. “The sentence is death.”

Ariada knew from the implacable look on his face that he would not merely attempt to incapacitate her as he had in their first duel. He was going to kill her. Unexpectedly, Morgedh flew through the air with blinding speed and Ariada just barely managed to bring her shotos up to deflect his initial blow. Morgedh continued to press her, his lightsaber blade humming and flashing impossibly fast. His swordsmanship was fluid and precise, the attacks flowing together in rapid succession. She backpedaled, defending as best as she could with a shoto in each hand. Even with two weapons, she was barely managing to hold him off. Ariada had never seen someone wield a lightsaber with such speed and force. In their practice duels, Morgedh had always been an intense fighter who did not go easy on trainees, but she was seeing a whole new level of fervor from him and then she knew that this was personal for the stolid Noghri.

“Careful, Morgedh,” she warned him. “You’re flirting with the dark side, tapping into your anger like that. Wouldn’t want to end up like me.”

The Noghri’s lightsaber crackled as he shoved her backward.

“There is no emotion,” he replied evenly. “There is peace. And for you, soon there will only be justice.”

Ariada sensed no hatred running through him. The Noghri was as tightly controlled as she had ever felt him be, and she knew that weakening his resolve was impossible. The Noghri was an unstoppable force as he drove her around the room, always on the offense, never leaving any opening for counter-attack. Ariada realized she never understood fully how Morgedh had merited his position as the leader of the Elite Guardians, and only belatedly was she seeing his true skill. Her attempts at forcing him back with telekinesis were blocked with nonchalant ease and she knew from experience that any attempt at using Force camouflage or Force lightning would be equally as futile. Sweat poured down her weakened body and her muscles trembled from the effort of fighting such a taxing prolonged duel.

“Why did you join them?” Morgedh asked. “They have not been good to you.”

“They had knowledge. . . and resources,” she replied, panting for breath.

“Which they have now used against our people,” Morgedh answered.

He gestured expressively and a wave of Force energy smashed her back into one of the consoles. She cried out as raw pain shot up her spine and she fell to the ground. Morgedh approached her with deliberate slowness.

“It was never supposed to happen this way,” Ariada fumed. “They were supposed to help me fight the Yuuzhan Vong. Before I knew it, I was helping them.”

“And yet at no point did you make the right decision,” Morgedh said. “You sought them out, gave yourself to them, and then brought them here.”

“Morgedh, I never wanted to hurt Yanibar,” she declared. “My purpose was to bring order and justice to the galaxy. To stop oppression and cruelty by any means necessary.”

“And instead you have become an agent of such cruelty,” Morgedh admonished her. “You lacked patience and self-control and now you are reaping the rewards of your choices. Get up.”

Ariada slowly rose to her feet, confused as to why Morged hadn’t just killed her on the spot. She brought her shotos up slowly.

“I was misled,” she said. “It was a mistake.”

“It is too late for apologies,” Morgedh said. “You will find forgiveness at the end of my blade.”

Filled with righteous indignation at the way Morgedh so casually pronounced judgment on her, not knowing the excruciating choices or torture she had endured, Ariada glared at the Noghri. Here he was, condemning her even after her admission of wrongness, and once again refusing to understand her situation. His rejection of any entreaty was filled with finality and obstinacy, rigid adherence to dogma that had corrupted the Jedi Order and was now corrupting the Force exiles. Morgedh’s blind loyalty led him to prosecute her relentlessly—she had been foolish to hope for any reprieve from him. The same anger and pride that had caused her to rebel from the restrictive rule of the Yanibar Guard had returned, except this time, it would be better expressed without direct defiance. She could not hope to best Morgedh clan Kel’nerh in a duel, but she could force him to make a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Shaking her head at him, she dropped both her shotos on the ground and held her hands out at her side, palms outward.

“Then go ahead, Morgedh,” she snapped. “Do it. I give in. You were that fast to condemn me. Why don’t you kill me with the same speed?”

The Noghri drove his lightsaber blade forward and Ariada braced herself for the blade vaporizing her heart. At the last second, he snapped off the weapon, glaring at her.

“What’s the matter, Morgedh?” she taunted him softly. “Can’t you kill an unarmed woman who surrendered to you?”

He scowled and punched her in the chest, nearly driving the wind out of her.

“Your words are poison,” he pronounced.

Though reeling with the pain as he kicked her legs out from under him, Ariada couldn’t help but laugh. She had won. Morgedh would either kill her in a helpless state and in doing so, fall to the dark side, or she would survive to take revenge on him because he was too weak to override his own ethics to finish her off. Unable to restrain herself, she burst out laughing even as Morgedh telekinetically shoved her across the floor.

“You’re the one who wants to fight,” she scolded him. “You want to kill me. I can sense it in you. I’ve been defending either myself or others this entire time. Who’s the fallen one now?”

That gave Morgedh pause.

“Ariada, you are truly corrupted,” he said, but this time his vocal inflections contained sadness, not judgment. “You are not only fallen to the dark side, but you are trying to twist others as well. Why did you turn to such evil?”

“Because it has power,” Ariada said, a smile twitching across her face despite her injuries. “I sensed it, Morgedh. Pure power like I have never felt before, unrestrained by the dogma you and the others preached. Power to stop the Yuuzhan Vong. Power to right all the wrongs in the galaxy.”

Morgedh shook his head.

“That power is purely selfish,” he told her. “It will consume you and that is why we restrain ourselves from caving to it.”

“Restraint?” she sneered, picking herself up off the floor. “What has restraint gotten you? While you preached restraint, the Empire killed and tortured billions. If not for that chance meeting, I would have been dissected as an infant in a cruel laboratory experiment and my people wiped out. A philosophy of restraint ignores the suffering in the galaxy to preserve your own lives. Now who’s being selfish with their power?”

Emboldened by the knowledge that Morgedh would not attack her, Ariada felt more confident in jabbing him verbally. All the ideas and beliefs that had led her to abandon Yanibar were evoked even more strongly. Now that she was not struggling simply to stay alive, she could give voice to thoughts that had been pent up for so long.

“Our restraint leads us to do the good we can, where we can,” Morgedh told her. “We cannot solve all or even most of the wrongs in the galaxy, but where we do intervene, it is out of selfless intentions for the benefit of others. You seek power to satisfy your hatred of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“I seek power to fight an enemy that you are afraid to confront,” she retorted.

“Thousands of the Yanibar Guard are at this very moment battling against the Yuuzhan Vong on another world,” Morgedh told her, confirming what Therior had already informed her. “You seek power to win by any means, to destroy and conquer. You seek power so you can punish those who you view as evil.”

“The Yuuzhan Vong are evil,” Ariada protested. “Are you that blind?”

“Stopping one wrong by committing another one is still wrong,” Morgedh replied. “You chastise me for passing judgment, yet you would condemn the Yuuzhan Vong in the same breath.”

“I haven’t gone on a campaign of galactic pillaging and murder,” Ariada shot back.

“Tell that to the families who lost loved ones today,” Morgedh said. “You were willing to stoop to anything to stop what you saw as wrong and innocent people died.”

“I will do what is necessary to stop the Yuuzhan Vong,” Ariada insisted. “That’s where you fail, Morgedh. You’re afraid to embrace true power.”

The Noghri sighed.

“That is because I know how many people end up hurt or dead from it,” he replied. “You of all people should know about the dangers of unrestrained power.”

“Me?”

“Unrestrained power allowed the Empire to terrorize your people, your family,” Morgedh said.

“You can’t possibly understand that!” Ariada yelled at him, furious. “You have no right to sit there and lecture me about my family!”

Morgedh opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly lit his lightsaber and wheeled around to deflect the lunge from Krakadas, who had recovered sufficiently during their discourse to attack Morgedh once more. Filled with a berserker fury, the Dark Jedi let out a terrifying roar as he charged Morgedh, slashing away repeatedly. Morgedh assumed the defensive Soresu stance even as Krakadas unloaded a withering barrage of blows designed to wear down Morgedh’s strength. The scarlet lightsaber clashed repeatedly on the golden one as Morgedh defended himself. The Noghri carefully maneuvered so that Krakadas was between him and Ariada in case she should try to surprise him while he was distracted.

Planting his feet firmly, Morgedh wove his lightsaber through an intricate defensive velocity that deflected every single one of Krakadas’ wild attacks. The Dark Jedi was filled with rage but Morgedh weathered the assault undeterred. It was only a matter of time before Krakadas was worn out and Morgedh had no desire to risk injury to himself from Krakadas or Ariada when he could simply defeat them one at a time. He would bide his time and wait for an opportune moment.

That moment came sooner than he expected. A hurled lightsaber suddenly flashed through Krakadas, stabbing through the Dark Jedi from behind and flying clean through to pierce Morgedh. He had been caught unaware, as Ariada’s focus on her tremendous hate for Krakadas, who had brutally tortured her and forced her to choose between self-preservation and taking an innocent life, had disguised her intent. The thrown lightsaber had severed Krakadas’ spine and several vital organs, but its trajectory had carried it through to plunge into Morgedh’s lower right shoulder as the Noghri twisted partially to avoid taking the lightsaber in the heart. Morgedh staggered back and Ariada wasted no time in taking advantage of his sudden shock. She blasted both the dying Krakadas and Morgedh with Force lightning, reveling in the screams from the Dark Jedi while Morgedh endured the torment in silence. In her weakened state, she could not maintain the energy flow for long and so the Force lightning subsided long before she wanted it to. Her fingers trembling, she glared at Morgedh with undisguised vitriol.

“Sometimes, Morgedh, you have to make sacrifices,” she said coldly. “It was him or me and he wasn’t strong enough.”

Morgedh had fallen to his knees, his left arm bracing the shoto embedded in his shoulder to prevent it from falling lower and slicing through his heart. Gasping for breath due to his punctured lung, he slowly drew out the weapon and tossed it aside.

“A Jedi does not murder the weak,” he said, drawing out a remote and pressing a button. “You sacrifice others for your own gain. I am willing to sacrifice myself to stop you.”

“What did you do?” Ariada demanded.

“What is necessary,” Morgedh replied, staggering to his feet. “Come to me, Ariada, and we will embrace fate together.”

Ariada summoned up enough Force energy to blast him with Force lightning once more, sending him flying back, but she could not maintain the effort. She was far weaker than she realized, her body too fatigued to allow effective use of the Force. No doubt Morgedh had some kind of self-destruct or explosive charge activated that would go off soon. She could attempt to kill him, but even in his injured state, he would likely injure her or delay her long enough for both of them to die, and then she would never be able to defeat the Yuuzhan Vong and her entire escapade would have been a waste. Morgedh’s intended self-sacrifice was costing her a complete victory over him.

“Before you come after me, there’s something you should know,” she told him. “The Dark Jedi brought Yuuzhan Vong here without my knowledge. I heard one of them speak of a package being deployed. You can chase me and kill us both, or you can warn Yanibar and help your people fight whatever it is.”

Morgedh made no sound, but the glare of final disapproval he gave her spoke volumes even as he struggled to rise.

“I had no idea the Dark Jedi were bringing Yuuzhan Vong, before you accuse me of that,” Ariada said. “That’s one of the reasons I’m glad you killed most of them.”

Scowling at the prone Noghri warrior one last time, Ariada turned to Aspra Serpaddis. Hauling him upright, she placed her arms under his shoulders and began dragging him out, carving a hole through the blast doors to get them through. Thankfully, he roused himself only a dozen meters down the passageway.

“I can move on my own,” he told her.

“Good,” she said. “The others are dead and the ship is doomed. Morgedh must have activated an explosive to destroy it. We’ll never make it to hyperspace. If you want to live, show me where my bomber is and get us inside.”

The Thisspiassian nodded and led Ariada down the corridor. They raced along as fast as their wounded bodies could bear. Aspra Serpaddis activated a shield barrier installed on the far end of the neck and dispatched security teams to defend the passageway.

“That should slow any pursuit,” he said.

Ariada nodded as he led her down to the hangar where thankfully her stolen Valkyrie was intact. The Thisspiassian disabled the security codes and the canopy slid open. She raced up the ladder into the cockpit while Aspra Serpaddis started to climb up; his serpentine body not well-suited to ladders. Just as his head appeared over the edge, she placed her shoto against his forehead but did not ignite it.

“Let’s get one thing very clear,” Ariada told him in a deadly serious voice. “From now on, I’m in charge. If you have a problem with that, I have no problems starting over without you. Am I making myself clear?” Aspra Serpaddis started in surprise as seeing the weapon planted against his forehead, but he was in no position to argue.

“I understand, Master,” he said humbly, his eyes dropping in deference.

“I spared your life because you were the smartest and most thoughtful of them. You don’t enjoy cruelty for its own sake and you and your resources can be useful to me. Don’t make me regret this decision,” Ariada warned him, removing the shoto and allowing him to finish climbing into the Valkyrie.

Sensing no deceit in the Dark Jedi, she focused on powering up the starbomber. The vehicle cleared the hangar and zoomed away from the Umbra’s Edge. Thanks to her familiarity with the space around Yanibar and her own Force-sensitivity, Ariada was able to plot a hyperspace course easily. The jump finished calculating just as the frigate exploded behind them, killing the remainder of the crew.

“They’ll pay for this too,” she told Aspra Serpaddis. “Once the Vong are defeated, we’ll deal with the Yanibar Guard.”

Then she pulled the lever and the bomber entered hyperspace.


 * Atlaradis, one standard day later

The Silent Surprise came to rest on an open field on a high plateau. Its repulsorlifts whined as the landing gear made contact with the grass. The engines slowly powered down and the crew hatch opened, allowing Cassi to exit, followed by Milya and Pesrah. They exited slowly, taking in the breathtaking sunset. The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the cloudless sky in hues of ochre, scarlet, and fuchsia. There was not a single artificial structure in sight, but craggy mountains crested with snow loomed around them, surrounding the expansive grassy plain littered with rocky outcroppings. A brisk breeze blew across the grasslands and the flora swayed like a living sea. The air was only slightly chilly and smelled faintly of wildflowers.

“Welcome to Atlaradis,” Pesrah told them solemnly.

In the last day, Rakatan healers had arrived to tend to Jorge and Annita, while Mithunir had passed away during the night. After being assured that the still-comatose Jorge and Annita were being tended to satisfactorily, Cassi had reluctantly agreed to journey to the surface.

“I’m still not sure we should be here,” Cassi said, looking up at the sky where the first stars were beginning to show. “What if they need me up here?”

Milya gently laid her arm on Cassi’s.

“Mithunir would have wanted us to come down and see the planet, and Jorge and Annita will be fine for a few hours,” Milya replied. “Let’s relax and take it all in.”

“It is a very. . . alive world,” Cassi admitted, wading into the knee-high grass. “Where are your people’s settlements, Pesrah?”

“They are almost a full continent away,” he said, waving in the distance of the mountains. “But I did not ask you to come down here to visit them.”

“Then what did you bring us here for?” Milya asked.

“What do you sense?” Pesrah inquired.

“This is a beautiful world, with the mountains and the field and the sunset,” Cassi said. “I don’t need the Force to notice that. . . but I do sense something.”

She pointed in the direction of a rocky cleft.

“That way,” Cassi said.

“You sense well,” Pesrah said. “In that direction lies the most treasured spot on Atlaradis. My people only come here rarely on pilgrimages—that is why we live so far away, lest we be drawn too closely to it.”

“I don’t understand,” Cassi replied.

“Then journey that way if you will,” Pesrah told her. “It is not too far. You can reach there before the sun dips below the horizon.”

“Is it dangerous?” Milya asked cautiously.

“In its own way,” Pesrah replied enigmatically. “There is little danger of risking your life, if that is what you ask, but there are worse things than death.”

Cassi looked over at Milya.

“I think we have to go over there,” she said. “I think this is what drew Mithunir to this world.”

“All right,” Milya replied with some trepidation. “Let’s just be careful.”

The two women walked the half a kilometer across the grass field, noting the majesty of the mountains jutting proudly into the sky. As they came to the cleft, Cassi noted a faint mist surrounding the entrance. The two women walked in cautiously, discovering a cave.

“You know, it’s always in a cave of some kind with these weird Force nexuses,” Milya remarked.

“I think it feels safe,” Cassi responded, stepping inside.

The entrance was three meters tall and twice that wide, so the two women had no problem entering it. The passageway inside the cave led upward at a gentle slope, but there was a worn stone path for them to follow. As they entered, stones placed at regular intervals along the wall began glowing, illuminating intricate carvings and reliefs on the cavern walls.

“Wow,” Cassi exclaimed, tracing her hands over some of the carvings. “I wonder what all of this means. I wish we had time to study it.”

“It’s certainly impressive,” Milya replied without much interest, too busy looking over the misty cavern entrance for any danger. “We should keep moving.”

Cassi nodded and moved forward, following Milya through the winding cavern passage that led them increasingly higher. The iridescent glowing stones guided their path and the way was smooth, with no hazard or obstacle presenting itself. Step by step they traversed through the heart of the mountain, following a trail that was hewn out of the sturdy rock. They had journeyed approximately three kilometers when Milya noticed a light at the end of the tunnel. Beckoning Cassi to slow down, Milya advanced cautiously, her hand reaching subconsciously for her lightsaber hilt. Venturing out of the cave, Milya found herself at the back end of a wide rocky lip extending from the side of the mountain. Deep crevices stood between them and the other peaks and a thick mist roiled from the invisible depths to blanket everything but the silhouettes of other mountains.

Milya stepped out onto the shelf, judging it to be nearly eighty meters wide and extending outward for about thirty meters. No plant life over than moss grew here, but Milya noticed two carved stone pillars embedded in the cliff face near the tunnel’s mouth. There was an eerie silence, with not even the sound of a bird of prey.

“It’s safe, come on out,” Milya told Cassi, who quickly emerged from the cavern.

“Look, there’s something over there,” Cassi said, darting ahead.

Milya tried to call a warning, but Cassi had already dashed into the mist. Milya followed doggedly and soon saw what Cassi had seen. On an elevated rocky dais at the edge of the mountains was the first artificial structure either of them had seen on Atlaradis. Eight pillars were arranged unevenly in a ring nine meters in diameter, some of them crumbled and overgrown with moss. One of them was cleft in two, but the severed top portion was floating perfectly above the rest of the pillar. All eight pillars were covered in the same alien inscriptions as the cavern walls had been. Moss and mist enwrapped the pillars, shrouding their full details.

However, it was what lay at the middle of the ring that drew Cassi’s eyes. A pool of water, perfectly circular and bordered by more engraved stones sat in the middle of the ring. By its far end, rising out of a smaller stone ring containing earth was a single young tree. Less than two meters high, its broad leaves were pale green, their edges blazoned with a gleaming silver color. The tree’s branches had bark of a more muted silver color and spread out widely, but none of them hung over the perfectly still water. It was the most tranquil scene either woman had seen in weeks, and the air seemed to hang heavy over them, weighed by the mists.

All the physical sights aside, the paramount sensation washing over the two women was the feeling of being enveloped in the Force. It was akin to being in the presence of all the most powerful Force-users on Yanibar, but in a more primal, natural sensation, like standing in a wellspring of pure Force power. Even without drawing on it consciously, they felt their senses sharpen, honed by the Force energy emanating from the ring and the pool it contained.

Cassi stepped up onto the dais, her eyes locked on the pool.

“It’s amazing,” she said. “I’ve never felt the Force so strongly, even on Revan’s Tower.”

“It is,” Milya agreed. “I just wish I knew why we were sent here.”

“To behold the Oracle of Atlaradis, Milya Kraen,” Mithunir’s voice suddenly told her.

Milya’s and Cassi’s eyes widened as they saw the shimmering translucent form of Mithunir floating over the water, mists lapping at his feet.

“You’re dead,” Cassi managed. “You passed away less than twelve hours ago.”

“From my mortal body, yes,” Mithunir said agreeably. “I am one with the Force now and this place has a strong connection to the Force.”

“So you can talk to the dead here?” Cassi asked.

Mithunir shrugged.

“There are countless billions of billions who have now become one with the Force,” he said. “Who am I to say whether they will answer the call of Atlaradis? As for me, I foresaw you would come here and lingered to greet you.”

“Thank you,” Cassi told him softly. “You brought us here, after all. This was your journey.”

Mithunir beamed.

“And it is complete,” he said exuberantly. “I am at rest now, and you have seen the glory of Atlaradis.”

“How do we know that you’re not the only one we can speak to?” Milya asked. “It is good to see you again, but there’s just so much I don’t understand.”

“I myself am only just beginning to truly comprehend the Force, Milya Kraen,” Mithunir said. “But as for your other question, simply reach out with your heart and think of the one you wish to see again. Perhaps they will come.”

His ghostly apparition bowed sagely to them.

“Your journey is over now, my friends,” he told them. “May peace be with you.”

Mithunir faded from view and the wind blew sharply, washing the pool over with fog anew. When it finally cleared, a new figure stood there.

“Hello, Milya,” Spectre said, his translucent figure dressed in simple pants and shirt. “Hello, Cassi.”

Milya shook her head and bit her lip, unable to believe what she was seeing. Cassi’s hands flew to her mouth in shock. Spectre smiled easily.

“I didn’t think it’d actually work,” Milya breathed.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Spectre told them.

“You knew this would happen?” Milya asked.

“No,” he said. “But I hoped it would.”

“Spectre, I am so sorry—,” Cassi started, remembering the circumstances of Spectre’s death, how he had died to save her and Sarth.

He held up a hand to forestall her apology.

“Cassi, I am rather beyond all that,” he said, obviously amused. “You should be, too. I’m at peace.”

“Okay,” she replied, mustering him a faint smile.

A tear slid down her cheek and Spectre’s apparition walked forward, wrapping his arms around her. Though Cassi knew he was incorporeal, she could have sworn she felt the embrace as if he was standing there in the flesh. She looked up at him.

“What is it like?” Cassi asked him. “The thereafter?”

Spectre released her and moved back to float over the mists.

“It’s different,” he replied. “Beyond that, it’s not for me to say.”

“Can you talk to other people, or just Force-users?” Milya asked.

“The oracle will show you anyone you had a connection to when they were mortal,” Spectre said. “I couldn’t talk to Master Yoda, for example, but Selu probably could.”

“Did you get to see Sheeka and Nate again?” Cassi asked, referring to his deceased wife.

Spectre gave her a wry grin.

“I’m not sure that see is the right word,” he responded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But we’re together again, yes.”

“I always hoped it would be like that,” Cassi exclaimed.

“It is, but there are things to treasure about mortality as well,” Spectre told her. “The ability to influence things on that plane of existence. All the different sensations of life. Don’t be in a hurry to get to this side—it isn’t going anywhere and you’ll have plenty of time to experience it.”

“It is really good to see you again,” Milya said, wiping her own tears away. “We never got to say goodbye.”

“I sensed it in your hearts when it happened,” Spectre replied. “My own skills in the Force weren’t enough to express it, but I was there in spirit when you all grieved for me and Nate. I saw Jasika grow up into the woman she is today. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with you always.”

“And it seems to have turned you into quite the philosopher,” Milya remarked. “You should hear yourself, spouting off like some kind of Jedi Master.”

Spectre chuckled.

“The dead are known for taking themselves too seriously with the living,” he said with amusement.

“What do we do next?” Cassi asked.

“Do?” Spectre replied. “I’m not your guide. Don’t look to the dead for how to live—and anything the Oracle shows you of the future is not set in stone.”

“It can do that?” Milya inquired.

“It can show you possible futures, depending on what you contemplate,” Spectre answered. “But it cannot say what will happen for sure.”

“How about the past?” Cassi inquired.

“Oh, it can show the past, but only something you already experienced,” Spectre affirmed. “The Oracle won’t show you the beginning of the universe. The Oracle is less an all-seeing eye and more of an amplification of your own powers.”

“And you can use it to call up dead people,” Milya remarked drily.

Spectre chuckled and nodded ruefully.

“That too,” he said.

Then he grew serious for a moment.

“Now, I would love to talk to you more and share memories and stories for years on end, but did Pesrah tell you about the hyperroute to get here?”

“He said it was only open for a short time,” Cassi recalled.

“That’s right,” Spectre said. “And you have less than twelve hours to be in hyperspace again. Actually more like eight.”

“Was Pesrah going to tell us that?” Milya asked, irritated.

“Oh, I’m sure he was counting on one of us to tell you,” Spectre replied amiably. “Don’t hold it against him. He has no intentions of ever leaving here, so it slips his mind that people would ever want to after coming here.”

“How long does the route take to re-open?” Cassi asked.

Spectre frowned.

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “It varies, but it’s almost always measured in years, not days. Many years at a time.”

Milya checked her chrono.

“Conservatively, we have about two hours before we need to head back to the Silent Surprise,” she estimated. “That gives us a little more time here.”

“Then I suggest you make the most of it,” Spectre advised them. “Oh, and my feelings won’t be hurt if you don’t talk only to me. Like I said, I’m beyond such things now.”


 * Yuuzhan Vong worldship, Coruscant orbit

The two guards opened the ivory color doors to admit him and Tsaruuk entered the large oval chamber with the mottled red walls to find the terrifying Tsavong Lah standing solemnly, flanked by his coterie of aides. The mighty warrior’s tattooed and slitted face was expressionless as he gave Tsaruuk an evaluating look. Tsaruuk suddenly had a feeling of utter loneliness. He had elected to answer the warmaster’s summons without his subordinates, but was unsure of the reception he would earn. “You have returned,” Tsavong Lah said.

Tsaruuk bowed at the waist, arms crossed in front of his chest in salute.

“That I have,” he replied. “With most of the forces you placed at my disposal intact.”

“And Rishi?” the warmaster asked.

Tsaruuk was momentarily puzzled, knowing that the warmaster had already received his report. And then he understood. Tsavong Lah wanted Tsaruuk to admit his failures in front of the other warriors. That was why they were here and that was why his lines were being dictated to him. A sinking feeling rose in the pit of his stomach, a sensation of dread that he had only experienced few times before.

“It remains in the hands of the infidels,” Tsaruuk admitted.

“And the refugees that affronted us, along with their minders?”

“Most of the Chalactan refugees we were pursuing were slain.”

“But not all.”

“No, Warmaster.”

“Besides not losing a fleet to the infidels, what else did you manage to accomplish, Tsaruuk?” Tsavong Lah demanded.

Tsaruuk drew a deep breath.

“We have fought and killed many infidels, including several Jeedai. My aides have their lightsabers if you desire proof. As my report detailed, our ships also detected two Jeedai stronghold worlds. The first was seeded with a dovin basal. Within days, its moon will be pulled into it, consuming it. The second. . . we were unable to attack it, but Yiu Shac reported its location before she was killed. The defenses were not heavy—we can conquer it easily.”

“I see,” Tsavong Lah replied neutrally. “And did you bother to confirm that this first world was destroyed?”

“None of my other ships were in position to do so,” Tsaruuk replied. “We received word of this planet by means of a group of infidels opposed to the Jeedai.”

“You spin an interesting tale, Tsaruuk,” Tsavong Lah said. “I dispatched ships of my own to find these two worlds. Neither of the coordinates your ships reported is accessible from darkspace! Did either of these two ships of yours happen to survive, that I might interrogate their crew?”

Tsaruuk’s mouth suddenly went dry. The warmaster’s unbridled fury was evident now, no doubt spurred on by other bad news from elsewhere, and it was being vented upon him.

“They did not,” he answered.

Tsavong Lah gave him a look of pure disgust.

“The only reason I believe you at all is because we received the corpse of Yiu Shac in an infidel craft, dead from wounds including those from a lightsaber,” he said. “The ship was left at the edge of Yuuzhan’tar’s system. The infidels obviously arranged this for you.”

“It was part of our truce,” Tsaruuk said.

“Yes,” Tsavong Lah hissed. “The truce.”

The warmaster turned to his advisers.

“I want you all to bear witness to this. Commander Tsaruuk has forgotten what it means to be a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Tell me, Commander, did we come to this galaxy to make truces with the infidels?”

Tsaruuk stood rigidly.

“No, Warmaster, we came to conquer them.”

“And did we seize hundreds of worlds just to be turned back now, by a numerically inferior force on a forgotten planet?” Tsavong Lah demanded.

“If the situation is untenable and we would only weaken ourselves in the long run, then yes,” Tsaruuk stated unequivocally. “I chose not to throw away our forces needlessly.”

“That is correct,” Tsavong Lah replied with an angry grimace. “You only admitted defeat to a smaller force of infidels after twice abandoning your command to perform personal combat.”

The warmaster stalked around the room.

“There were many who told me you were unfit for command, Tsaruuk. Many who said you had no use in combat. And now, in your desire to prove yourself in combat, you failed to achieve victory and failed to accomplish anything.”

“My warriors did find and sabotage the Jeedai stronghold,” Tsaruuk replied firmly.

Tsavong Lah sneered disdainfully at him.

“A world that may not even exist since we cannot reach it,” Tsavong Lah replied.

Little did Tsaruuk know that ever since the sacking of Coruscant, the warmaster had been belabored with news of setback after setback. His son Khalee Lah had perished over Hapes. His father Czulkang Lah had retaken Borleias after an infidel incursion there, only to perish along with one of the last healthy worldships. Thousands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors and dozens of warships had died with them. Tsaruuk had walked into a trap, face-to-face with Tsavong Lah’s ugliest, most unforgiving mood.

“You have failed not only me, Tsaruuk, you have failed the Yuuzhan Vong. You could not even be trusted with such a simple task, and now our warriors bear the shame of retreat from a smaller force on a world they couldn’t hope to defend.”

“There were unforeseen circumstances,” Tsaruuk said. “The infidels were better-armed than we were prepared to fight, and they had a number of Jeedai with them, Jeedai whose names were not known before.”

“And you were not able to adapt to this?” Tsavong Lah asked.

“We did, Warmaster,” Tsaruuk replied. “Twice the infidels sought to bait our forces into a trap which none would have survived. I was able to avoid both of their schemes. We accomplished our objectives—Rishi’s population centers were under our control and we had achieved approximate parity in space.”

“And yet you saw fit to establish a truce?” the warmaster demanded.

“The infidels had another weapon, an abomination that could wipe out any Yuuzhan Vong fleet if positioned properly,” Tsaruuk said evenly. “They used it to cut off part of our fleet. If I had not negotiated the agreement with them, we would have lost all of our forces in the Rishi area and not been able to deliver recordings of their weapon, so the shapers can create a countermeasure. I do not see how any Yuuzhan Vong commander could have done better in the same scenario.”

“Silence!” Tsavong Lah interrupted him. “That is for me to decide, and I have decided.”

Tsaruuk caught the warmaster’s drift and resigned himself to his fate.

“Then I ask only to be buried alongside my mate,” he said, bowing his head.

“As if your domains would take your disgraced carcasses back,” Tsavong Lah replied. “There is only thing left that you and your dead mate can do for the Yuuzhan Vong, and that is to serve as a lesson to our people about the consequences of failure, dishonor, and cowardice.”

Quick as a flash, the warmaster’s hand shot out to grip Tsaruuk’s throat.

“Both of your bodies will be left out to rot and be consumed by carrion eaters,” he said. “Your remains will not be treated as befitting a true Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Instead, they will be discarded with the rubbish in a public ceremony to serve as a reminder of your everlasting disgrace.”

Tsaruuk was aghast at the planned desecration and sacrilege the warmaster had planned for him and Yiu Shac. It surpassed anything he had expected, a total affront to his beliefts. Tsavong Lah could not have devised a more cutting insult if he had tried. He tried to speak but Tsavong Lah’s hand was clamped around his throat, stifling any words. The warmaster leaned in closer, his eyes filled with loathing as he stared at Tsaruuk with unmitigated rancor.

“This last undeserved honor I will give to you, Tsaruuk. I shall kill you myself.”

“Yiu Shac. . .” Tsaruuk wheezed. “She does not deserve this.”

Tsavong glared at him, but at least considered the words.

“Very well,” he conceded. “You are right. Yiu Shac was always a skilled and brave warrior. The fact that she died at the hands of a Jeedai in honorable combat proves this. Her one mistake was allying herself with you. You may die knowing that she will be afforded the proper burial of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior.”

Tsaruuk nodded. “That is enough,” he said. “I die with the name Yiu Shac on my lips. Do-ro’ik vong pratte!”

The last thing Tsaruuk saw was an evil grin on the face of Tsavong Lah. Then the warmaster squeezed.


 * Needle’s Eye

“How long do we have until the hyperroute out of here closes?” Milya asked Pesrah as the Silent Surprise settled into the docking bay.

“Approximately two hours,” the Rakata told her.

“All right, I’m going to prep the Silent Surprise for departure,” Milya told Cassi. “Get Jorge and Annita and we’ll be on our way. We have thirty minutes.”

“I understand,” Cassi said as she disembarked.

Led by Pesrah, Cassi strode purposefully towards the healing wards where her two friends were convalescing. Several Rakatan healers were in the room, but they did not speak when she entered. To her relief, Jorge was awake, sitting up in the bed, but he was pale, his veins showing in dark blue spiderwebs in contrast to his unusually pasty skin.

“Cassi,” he croaked. “How is the planet?”

Jorge’s head rolled to the side, indicating the view of Atlaradis visible through the viewport.

“It’s beautiful,” she said reassuringly as she walked over to his bed. “And one day, we might come back and see it again.”

“You might,” he told her. “I think I’ve taken my last jump.”

There was a morbid finality in his words that sent a chill down Cassi’s spine.

“Don’t even think that,” she said firmly. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m worn out, Cassi,” Jorge responded weakly. “It’s hard to even stay awake. Nita’s not doing well either.”

“We purified all the venom from their bodies, but the damage was done,” one of the Rakatans offered. “They are too weak.”

“What do you mean?” Cassi demanded.

“Their nervous systems were badly affected,” the Rakatan informed her. “Without those nerves operating properly, respiration and circulation become impossible.”

“What he said,” Jorge added.

“The only thing keeping them alive right now is the Force,” the Rakatan said. “It will take weeks, possibly months before they can recover.”

“Then it’s all the more important that we get you two back home where you can be treated,” Cassi answered firmly.

“They would not survive the trip,” the Rakatan told her concernedly. “They do not have the strength to last even a day without constant healing.”

“I can do it,” Cassi said.

“You are making a mistake,” the healer warned her. “It requires several of our healers constantly drawing on the power of Atlaradis to keep them alive. By yourself, gifted as you are, you cannot hope to sustain both of them for several days.”

Cassi bit her lip.

“When does the hyperroute open again, Pesrah?” she asked.

“In terms of standard years, approximately ten,” Pesrah informed her. “Such a close sequence is highly unusual.”

“Ten years?” Cassi exclaimed. “We don’t have ten years, Pesrah. We need to get them home now.”

“Then they will die,” the Rakata healer said. “Even if some of us were to come with you, we would not have the same potency away from Atlaradis. It is the planet’s strength in the Force that has saved their lives so far.”

Cassi shook her head.

“There has to be another way.”

“Maybe there is,” Pesrah offered. “If what Healer Rabgiel says is true, then perhaps they should stay here.”

“What?” Cassi exclaimed.

“We would care for them,” Pesrah assured her. “You have my word. We would continue to heal them until they are ready to travel and you can come for them.”

“I can’t just leave them here,” Cassi replied.

“You are welcome to stay as well if you should so choose,” Pesrah answered, unperturbed by her insistence.

Cassi turned away, unable to face Jorge and Annita anymore.

“I need to talk to Milya,” she said, reaching for her comlink and activating it.

“Are Jorge and Annita ready to move?” Milya asked brusquely.

“No,” Cassi told her sadly. “The Rakatans have told me that they’re too weak to travel. They said they won’t make it.”

“Do you believe them?” Milya asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

“Maybe,” Cassi replied noncommittally.

“Believe it,” Jorge threw in from across the room, coughing heavily from the effort the words cost him.

“Was that Jorge?” Milya inquired.

“Yes,” Cassi said, throwing a look of obvious concern at him as two of the Rakatans quickly moved to his bedside to lay their hands on his chest.

Their palms glowed blue with the characteristic sign of intense Force healing being applied and Jorge was able to cease his coughing and breathe normally again.

“Are they that sick?” Milya pressed.

Cassi was nearly to the point of tears from seeing her friends lying there barely clinging to life. Being powerless to help them only made her heart break all the more. She struggled to speak, fighting past the lump in her throat. A sob escaped her as she tried to collect her thoughts.

“I. . . I. . . yes,” Cassi admitted finally.

She began weeping and Milya let her cry for a minute.

“Cassi, are they going to die?” Milya inquired.

“I’m not sure,” Cassi answered as she sniffled. “The Rakatans said they would probably recover, but it would take weeks of constant Force-healing here to do it, and the hyperroute doesn’t open again for another ten years.”

“And we can’t take them back with us?”

The answer she had to give Milya caused Cassi to break into tears again. She was powerless, unable to help her friends when they needed her most. She felt like a failure—Jorge and Annita had always been there for her and now she could not even use her gift in the Force, the one area she was confident in, to help them.

“I’m not strong enough,” Cassi confessed. “Not for all that way back. I can’t do it. . . I’m sorry, Milya. Maybe if we had stasis pods in the Surprise. . . but we don’t.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Milya told her soothingly. “It’s not your fault. You already saved their lives, Cassi. Don’t shoulder that burden all by yourself.”

“We will take care of your friends, treat them as we would our own,” Pesrah offered. “They will be safe here.”

“If they’re staying, then I’m staying,” Cassi said firmly.

“Ten years is a long time,” Milya pointed out reasonably. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure,” Cassi answered. “I don’t go back if they don’t.”

“Just go,” Jorge suddenly spoke up, apparently recovered from his paroxysm of coughing.

“I can’t do that, Jorge,” Cassi said. “I won’t leave you and Annita behind.”

“But you should,” Jorge whispered. “We will be fine. You heard the healer, and while I don’t normally care for doctors, he seems to know what he’s talking about.”

“Like I’m going to leave you in a strange place alone for ten years after bringing you all this way?” Cassi replied.

“I’m not alone. Annita’s right here with me, and she’s going to be fine, too.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and you’re a fool for thinking it. I appreciate the thought, Cassi, and I know you mean well, but really, you should go back.”

“I already said that wasn’t going to happen.”

“What about Sarth, eh? Are you going to make Milya tell him that he won’t see his wife for ten years?”

“Sarth will understand.”

“Yes, he would, but it would hurt both of you. I wouldn’t leave Nita here anymore than I’d expect you to stay.”

“It’s not about expectations, it’s about responsibility.”

“And your responsibility is to go back, to watch out for Sarth. He needs it and he would pine without you, like how he used to sulk on the Hawk-bat when you didn’t notice him. And there is one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to tell everyone back on Yanibar what you saw. I love Milya and all, but the way she expresses passion about a subject is like sharpening vibroblades.”

“I heard that,” Milya commented drily.

“At least I haven’t heard any complaints from Selu about it over the years,” Jorge wisecracked, then grew serious again. “Cassi, you have to be the one to tell them.”

“Are you sure about this?” Cassi asked Jorge. “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do?”

“I do,” Jorge said. “But if the world is as great as you said it was and these Rakata are right about us healing, then Annita and I will be fine here. We’ll have each other and that’ll be enough for ten years.”

“How will you explain this to her?” Cassi inquired.

“Oh, either as a much-deserved vacation, an early retirement, or a ten year second honeymoon,” Jorge answered lightly. “Or all three. By the way, Milya, we quit.”

“Duly noted,” Milya put in.

“Just go, Cassi,” Jorge pressed her. “Go be with your family and tell them what we found. We’ll be here when you get back.”

Her resolve finally broken by his words, Cassi relented.

“All right,” she said. “But I’m coming back for you as soon as I can.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” Jorge answered. “We’ll give you the grand tour of the world when you do, show you all the romantic getaway spots. Maybe we’ll start a hotel while we wait.”

Cassi wiped a tear from her eye.

“That sounds nice,” she said.

“Then hit the spacelanes,” Jorge replied. “The sooner you get going, the sooner you’ll be back.”

She bit her lip as she again felt that lump in her throat rising.

“Okay, Jorge,” she said. “I’ll come back for you.”

“Get to your ship,” he told her gently. “Record me and Annita a nice holo before you jump and send it to my comlink. Oh, and drop our bags off as well. Pesrah can take care of them for us.”

Cassi nodded, fighting back the tears.

“Goodbye, Jorge,” she said.

“For now,” he finished, tossing her a weak salute.

Then Cassi allowed Pesrah to lead her back to the hangar, where Milya had already offloaded Jorge and Annita’s luggage.

“When you first arrived, I told you that your coming had been foretold,” Pesrah said suddenly.

“That’s right,” Cassi answered.

“And in that prophecy, it was foretold that the arrival of five visitors from beyond would bring a new people to Atlaradis. Always before, it has been three or fewer. Your coming will herald a new era on our world.”

“We’re not just going to take over your world,” Cassi replied.

“We give it to you freely,” the Rakatan said. “Our people’s numbers dwindle with time and someone must care for Atlaradis and guide the seekers whom the Force brings here. You and your people are welcome to live here—we have been preparing for this for centuries.”

“I—I’ll keep that in mind,” Cassi said. “Thank you for everything.”

Several minutes later, Cassi was seated by Milya in the cockpit of the Silent Surprise as the ship lifted off and cleared the hangar, headed for open space.

“Did I do the right thing, Milya?” Cassi asked. “Only time will tell,” Milya answered neutrally.

Having laid in the course and set the hyperdrive to engage upon reaching the jump point, Milya got up and walked aft to record her farewell to Jorge and Annita. Cassi sat in silence, her mind filled to the point of overflowing from the tumultuous experiences of the last few days. When Milya returned, Cassi recorded her own message and sent the combined messages back to Needle’s Eye. It was a long flight back to Yanibar, but neither woman spoke much. The things they had seen and experienced, the people they had talked to in private while taking turns at the Oracle weighed heavily on them, and sorrow over Jorge and Annita’s predicament also ached in their hearts. They had finished their journey only to come to a bittersweet conclusion.

29
The Yanibar Guard base on Rishi was abuzz with activity as engineers and droids packed up and collapsed its structures, loading the pallets of equipment onto transports. Stiletto gunships and armed patrols circled the base, keeping an eye out for renegade Yuuzhan Vong warriors that hadn’t honored the withdrawal. The majority of the aliens had departed a week prior and the Yanibar Guard was leaving Rishi as well, having cleaned up the remaining pockets of Yuuzhan Vong resistance. Selu stood on top of a landed Discblade freighter watching the scene unfold before him. The withdrawal was being carried out with military efficiency and he sensed that the work was helping the Yanibar Guardsmen cope with the friends and comrades they had lost in the battle. Hundreds of Yanibar Guard bodies had already been recovered and carefully packaged in preparation for the return trip back to Yanibar. Destroyed weapons and vehicles were either being hauled back to Yanibar for salvage and scrapping, or else blown up by demolition teams. The Yanibar Guard Fleet was conducting similar operations in space.

Hearing footsteps approach, Selu knew it was Ryion even before he turned. His son had been avoiding him ever since returning with the prisoners from the Yuuzhan Vong flagship, but now Selu sensed that Ryion finally wanted the reckoning he had been dreading.

“The withdrawal seems to be going well,” Ryion offered mildly.

“That it does,” Selu answered. “We should be off this world by nightfall.”

“I wanted to talk to you about what I did,” Ryion said, bowing his head. “I was wrong for subverting your authority and going on that rescue mission. I accept whatever discipline you have for me.”

Selu simply looked at him intently.

“And what of your role in bringing the Yanibar Guard here?” Selu asked.

“I wanted to make a difference in the galaxy,” Ryion said. “I wanted to stand alongside the oppressed and defend them.”

“And look what it got us,” Selu observed. “Thousands of Guardsmen dead, thousands more wounded. Civilian casualties are no doubt two or threefold that.”

Ryion glanced sharply at his father.

“So you didn’t approve of coming here?” he asked.

“I did not say that,” Selu reproved him. “If we had not intervened, the price would have been much steeper, but you needed to see the true horrors of war, son. You need to understand the cost of your actions.”

“Everything was so much simpler when we were just using small teams, picking away at easy targets,” Ryion commented bitterly.

“I know,” Selu said. “And I also know that small teams of Elite Guardians would not have been able to thwart the Yuuzhan Vong here.”

“So what are you saying?” Ryion inquired.

“I’m saying that even right decisions in war have severe consequences,” Selu answered. “That is why we have never entered a war lightly. It may yet be worse than we know—I have not heard from Yanibar for several days. They may be in a communications blackout.”

“Tsaruuk spoke of that,” Ryion said. “He said his ships had found our world—I presume that means Yanibar?”

“We’ll know when we get back,” Selu replied gravely.

“Are you mad at me?” Ryion asked.

Selu was silent for a moment, then sighed heavily.

“What you did was foolhardy and reckless, both in bringing the Yanibar Guard here to Rishi and in your heroics on the Yuuzhan Vong ship,” he said. “We may never recover from this encounter. At the same time, I bear much of the responsibility as well. Your mother and I raised you to look out for the weak, to combat evil, and to take initiative. I argued just as strongly to bring the Yanibar Guard here to defend these people in hopes of sparing Yanibar. We may have won here temporarily, but if the Yuuzhan Vong have found Yanibar, we are in grave danger.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryion answered.

“As am I,” Selu responded. “Yet at the same time, you did a tremendous thing, Ryion. While we did not utterly crush the Yuuzhan Vong force here, we saved the people of Rishi and prevented an even greater loss of life. The truce you negotiated was something I never would have done at your age, and so it pleases me to see that you have learned from my mistakes.”

A grin creased Selu’s face.

“Some of them, at least,” he said. “You’re going to hear from your mother about boarding the enemy flagship.”

Ryion nodded.

“What has happened, happened,” Selu declared. “We cannot change it, so we have to simply learn from it, accept it, and continue forward. For our part, that means returning to Yanibar. This battle has exhausted the Yanibar Guard and revealed us to the Yuuzhan Vong. We cannot venture forth again.”

“I understand,” Ryion said.

“I have some final business to take care of,” Selu said. “You can come, if you like.”

The Jedi Master jumped down from the transport nimbly despite his many decades and Ryion followed him as he walked over to meet a small group of people who had arrived at the entrance to the Yanibar Guard base. Hobbie, the governor, the viceroy and his daughter, along with Kyle Katarn and Jan Ors were there. Like the two Yanibar Guardsmen, they had not had a chance to properly rest or clean up after the protracted battle, as evidenced by their dirty clothes and bedraggled appearance.

“We’ll be offworld by nightfall,” Selu told them as walked up. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out as we wanted.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Kyle Katarn said. “Your forces defended these people when the New Republic was collapsing in on itself. You held the line here at Rishi and that hasn’t been happening much where the Vong are concerned.”

“Thank you, Master Katarn,” Selu told him. “But our defense here may have put Yanibar at risk.”

“With the Yuuzhan Vong out there, we’re all at risk,” Hobbie commented dourly. “Still, I suppose I should thank you. They had our number until you showed up.”

“Yes, thanks are in order,” the governor rumbled. “My family and I owe our lives to you and your people.”

“I’m glad they survived the battle, Governor,” Selu said. “Your people are free—for now at least.”

“If I could ask you to do one more thing, Kraest,” the governor said. “Cut us off from the galaxy with those weapons of yours. We’ve had enough.”

“Are you sure?” Selu asked. “The mine burst will deny hyperspace travel here for at least a year. You’ll be cut off from any other worlds except in the Rishi Maze.”

“And that’s where we’ll turn,” the governor answered. “Buy us that time and we’ll muster up support from any of the worlds there that are willing to help us.”

“I’ll instruct Hasla to detonate enough mines to buy you a year,” Selu answered.

“Thank you,” the governor said, then the man left.

“Speaking of her, I spoke with Wedge this morning,” Hobbie put in. “I know she’s not here right now, but tell her that General Antilles says all is forgiven.”

“I will tell her that,” Selu replied. “That will make her happy.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Hobbie remarked sourly. “He also said not to ask for any more favors.”

Selu shook the man’s hand.

“Colonel, your volunteers did a tremendous job here,” he said. “It was an honor to serve alongside you.”

“Let’s not make it a habit, though,” Hobbie replied. “You guys tend to attract Vong by the bucketload.”

“Agreed,” Selu answered. “I’ll escort you over to pick up your wounded when we’re done here.”

“Commander, I too have one final request for you,” the viceroy said. “My people took heavy losses in the battle—and they no longer look to me for leadership. Before I abdicate, I would entreat you for sanctuary for the remnant of my people. We are not many and the Yuuzhan Vong will hunt us relentlessly. We have no other friends who could protect us. This is the last thing I wish to do for the few hundred of my people who remain here.”

Selu considered for a moment, then nodded.

“Have all your people who wish to journey to Yanibar at the south end of the base by sunset,” Selu said. “Tell them that the decision is final—there will be no going back and no chance of return once they decide.”

The viceroy bowed respectfully and left, but Shara lingered. Selu noticed that, but his facial expression showed no reaction as he turned to Kyle and Jan.

“Thank you again, Master Katarn, and you too, Agent Ors,” Selu said. “Your help here was invaluable.”

“It was a privilege and a welcome surprise,” Kyle said. “Tell your Zeison Sha friends that the Jedi aren’t as bad as they think. Oh, and Junior there is pretty good in a fight.”

“Just cocky and reckless like some other Jedi I know,” Jan said, rolling her eyes. “I bet looking after him is a full-time job.”

“Hey,” Ryion and Kyle protested simultaneously.

“Exactly,” Selu concluded.

“And we’re done here,” Kyle remarked, scowling in mock indignation at Jan. “Woman, you get me into all kinds of trouble.”

“Not true,” she shot back. “You’re the one who finds the trouble. I’m the one who gets you out again.”

“May the Force be with you,” Kyle said to Selu and Ryion. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some things to discuss.”

“Certainly,” Selu replied.

“I bet she’s going to have an interesting report to New Republic Intelligence,” Ryion commented once they were out of earshot.

“If there’s anyone to report it to,” Selu answered. “The New Republic may be on the verge of collapse.”

Hobbie snorted.

“Don’t give up on us yet,” the grizzled volunteer said.

Not wishing to argue, Selu smiled accommodatingly.

“Let me take you to your wounded,” Selu told him. “You can arrange for them to be brought back to your encampment.”

Hobbie concurred and the two men walked off, leaving Ryion and Shara alone.

“So, does that mean you are coming to Yanibar as well?” Ryion asked her.

“I am, if I am welcome,” Shara said.

“My people are very welcoming,” Ryion answered.

“But are you?”

She took a tentative step closer to him, her large dark eyes staring up at him.

“Ryion, before you left, something happened inside of me. It was like my eyes had been opened. I realized that you meant more to me than I had thought possible. I realized that—,”

She started to continue but Ryion interrupted by leaning forward and kissing her. His right hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, fingertips caressing the nape of her neck as his other arm pulled her closer. Her eyes popped wide open in surprise at first but then she relaxed and simply enjoyed the moment. They broke off the kiss after a few seconds, not daring to prolong it. Ryion rested his head against hers so that their noses were almost touching, allowing him to just barely whisper so only Shara could possibly hear him.

“I think we understand each other,” he breathed.

“Not fully, not yet,” she answered. “But in time, we will.”

He smiled and drew her close to him for another kiss.

Several hundred meters away, Akleyn watched while standing by Anja and the rest of the casualties from the New Republic volunteers who had been positioned at the entrance to the field medcenter, which even now was being collapsed. Qedai walked up to him and smiled.

“Soon we’ll be home,” he assured her. “And you’ll be able to heal properly.”

“I think I’ve already begun,” Qedai answered. “Thanks to you.”

Akleyn noticed Selu and Hobbie approaching from the corner of his eye.

“You should thank her,” he said, pointing to Anja. “She was the one who noticed. For both of us.”

Anja blushed and ducked her head.

“You give me too much credit, Doc,” she replied. “Just looking out for those around me.”

“It’s a pretty special gift,” Akleyn told her. “Looks like your boss is coming to pick you guys up and hit the spacelanes.”

“Most likely,” she said.

“Well, then if this is goodbye, then thank you for everything,” Akleyn said.

“Yes, certainly,” Qedai added appreciatively.

“Same to you,” she said.

Anja shook both Akleyn’s and Qedai’s hands in turn, then sauntered off to meet Hobbie, calling some obscenity at him jocularly to describe his battleworn state. He roared a reply in kind and Akleyn shook his head.

“Hey, what’s it take to get some service in this so-called medcenter?” he heard a loud voice bellow from back in the medcenter. “My lovely, beautiful wife is thirsty.”

“Bryndar, stop harassing Akleyn!” Akleyn heard Jasika protest in a much quieter voice.

Akleyn turned and frowned, then decided that one loudmouth deserved another.

“Did the commandos make you forget how to pour a glass of water, Bryndar, or did you do that on your own?” he shouted back.

Turning to Qedai, he winked at her and smirked.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I have a troubled patient to attend to. He’s not even hurt and he acts like a little child.”

She nodded appreciatively.

“I understand,” she said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” she assured him, brushing her fingertips against his arm, which sent a tingling sensation racing to his head.

He smiled, a genuine heartfelt smile, something he hadn’t done in years, then turned and stalked off back into the medcenter, his grouchy doctor persona back in full force.

“Bryndar Knrr, I don’t understand how your wife is so thirsty when you’re sitting at her bedside drooling over her!” Akleyn shouted. “For that matter, I don’t know how she puts up with you at all!”

“Listen here, Akleyn! If you had a wife as beautiful as I have, you wouldn’t leave her side either! And you certainly wouldn’t tolerate lazy doctors not attending to her needs!”

Qedai giggled in spite of herself. Hearing the banter reminded her of happier times, and maybe that was what she needed to help lift the grief that had overwhelmed her soul, had threatened her life. Maybe by surrounding herself with friends she would be able to fill that void that losing her parents had created in her heart. Or maybe just keeping Akleyn as close as he was willing to get. She didn’t know, but she was willing to try, and that alone was enough to give her hope.


 * One week later

Ryion sat in the cabin he shared with Zeyn on the Lightbearer alone, meditating while Zeyn was off exercising in the ship’s recreational facilities. The Yanibar Guard Fleet had been in hyperspace for several days now and the meditation was helping to recenter his mind after all the traumatic events he had experienced. As he communed with the Force, he sensed another presence in the room, but he didn’t even need to open his eyes to know who it was.

“Master Billaba,” he said.

“Greetings, Ryion,” she replied.

“Well, have you found your rest yet?” he asked. “We saved as many of your people as we could. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better.”

“I am at peace,” she assured him. “I came to bid you farewell and give you my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ryion answered, finally opening his eyes.

“You have taught me a lesson that I needed to learn, Ryion. You taught me that it is what lies in the heart that truly matters. You may not have succeeded in battle as well as you would have hoped, but you survived the tests that were thrown at you with a pure heart. You won in the areas of true importance.”

“Thanks, I think,” Ryion said with a frown.

“I can now rest knowing that there may yet be hope for the future,” Depa Billaba told him.

“I think you’re putting an awful lot of stock in us temporarily holding off a fairly small Vong fleet to save what in the end amounted to only a few hundred of the Chalactans,” Ryion remarked. “Unless you’re referring to something else?”

The apparition of the Jedi Master smiled mystically at him.

“All things in their own time, Ryion,” she said enigmatically. “Bear the gift I gave you well and remember—the Force will be with you always.”

With that, she dematerialized, leaving Ryion alone once again.

“Well, that was helpful,” he commented sarcastically. “Whenever I become a Force ghost, I will find better things to do with my time that drop mysterious hints to young Jedi around the galaxy.”

Ryion had just settled back into his meditation position when his comlink chirped.

“Not again,” he groaned as his eyes popped back open.

Ryion nevertheless picked up the device and activated it.

“We’re two minutes from the final rendezvous point,” Selu told him. “Thought you might want to be on the bridge when we returned home.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ryion said.

He arrived on the bridge to find Selu standing beside Zeyn and Hasla as the Yanibar Guard Fleet prepared to exit hyperspace at one of several rendezvous points that had been established as final jumping points to Yanibar. The distance from the rendezvous points to Yanibar was only an hour by hyperspace, but they served as a final warning line. Each rendezvous point was constantly monitored for incoming ships and attempting to reach Yanibar by any other means was not only impossible via hyperspace, but ships that attempted to jump to Yanibar without obtaining clearance would find the Yanibar Guard ready for them with an overt or a covert defense.

The fleet reverted from hyperspace simultaneously as the starlines rippled back into individual orbs of light.

“Stand by to transmit code clearance back to Yanibar,” Hasla ordered.

“Hyperspace reversion detected,” the tactical computer sounded.

“Raise shields!” Hasla barked. “Prepare for battle.”

“Belay that,” Selu said, noting the tactical display and reaching out with the Force. “It’s Milya and Cassi.”

Hasla double-checked, just to make sure, but sensors showed it was the Silent Surprise, broadcasting all the appropriate transponder codes.

“Stand down,” Hasla ordered. “Get me a line with them.”

A second later, a hologram of Milya flickered into existence.

“Honey, I’m home,” she offered brightly to Selu.

“Almost,” Selu told her. “Come on over.”

Within minutes, the Silent Surprise was nestled in the Lightbearer’s hangar and Milya and Cassi were on the bridge. Selu noticed the absence of Jorge and Annita, but he also had other priorities.

“We probably have a lot to talk about,” he said quietly after giving Milya a quick kiss, “but for now, we need to get back to Yanibar. There’s been a communications blackout for the past few days and we need to prepare our contingency plans en route.”

Cassi looked like she was about to explode if kept silent any longer, but she nodded in acknowledgment while Milya simply maintained her professional face, which most closely resembled casual disdain.

“Code clearances transmitted,” Hasla said.

“I’ll append my code clearances as well,” Selu added, walking over to the communications console. “Stand by to jump to hyperspace.”

An hour later, the fleet decanted from hyperspace in the Yanibar system. To Selu’s relief, the planet was still there and so was Yanibar’s Helm.

“Incoming transmission,” the comm chief reported.

“Patch it through,” Selu ordered crisply.

To his surprise, full-size holos of both Morgedh and Sarth shimmered into existence, their body language tense and worried.

“Master Kraen, it is good you have returned,” Morgedh said. “We have been attacked.”

“Ariada?” Selu asked.

The Noghri nodded.

“She escaped again, but I defeated several Dark Jedi who were her companions.”

“It gets better,” Sarth said. “The Council undercut you and the rest of the Yanibar Guard while you were gone. They have sharply curtailed all offworld activities indefinitely, effectively immediately. No more deployments. Strictly defensive postures only.”

Selu’s shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“I was afraid that would happen,” he admitted. “Did the attack by the Dark Jedi provoke the vote?”

“Yes, but there’s something else. That’s not the worst part,” Sarth cut in.

“He is correct,” Morgedh said. “The Dark Jedi bombarded Yanibar. While we were able to deflect their weapons or shoot them down, their actions allowed a small Yuuzhan Vong craft through. It was apparently destroyed, but Ariada warned me that they had planted some kind of weapon on Yanibar.”

“More specifically, a dovin basal,” Sarth interrupted. “We found it three days ago. It had been pulling on one of the moons, Selu. You know what that means.”

Selu paled.

“Is it still out there?” he asked.

“No,” Morgedh answered grimly. “We destroyed it shortly after discovering it. It’s dead.”

Selu exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his tousled hair, obvious worry reflected on his face.

“How bad is it, Sarth?” he asked.

Sarth looked hesitant to reply, the look of a doctor who has to tell family members that their loved one is passing away.

“It’s bad,” he admitted. “The good news is that the dovin basal didn’t have long enough to pull the moon into a terminal orbit. It won’t come crashing into us any time soon.”

“And the bad news?”

“The added gravitational exertion on the orbit was enough to disturb its eccentricity,” Sarth said. “It destabilized it pretty badly and it could increase to up to 0.001 as time goes on.”

“And in Basic, that means?” Milya asked.

“It means,” Sarth explained patiently. “That the tidal effects will grow increasingly severe as the orbit deteriorates. We’re talking catastrophic groundquakes, tectonic plates cracking, and giant tsunamis. If conditions on Yanibar were harsh before, they’ll be unlivable until the moon corrects its orbit.”

“How long will that be?” Selu asked.

Sarth winced.

“These things are hard to predict, but preliminary models suggest two hundred years before the moon’s orbit normalizes and Yanibar is habitable again. Not terrible in the planetary life-cycle time frame, but terrible for sentient life forms.”

“Oh,” Selu realized aloud. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Short of asking the Yuuzhan Vong to bring us another dovin basal and persuading them to fix what they did—something that would require incredibly complex mathematics and precision control on their part—not much,” Sarth said. “We can try and use tractor beams on the capital ships to try and alter the moon’s orbit, but that will only slightly dampen the perturbation, it won’t correct or stop it.”

“How long until Yanibar is uninhabitable?” Milya inquired.

Sarth shrugged fatalistically.

“It depends on how you define uninhabitable. We can probably avoid major catastrophes for another eight years, but there’ll be no stopping the weather from worsening or an increasing number of moderate groundquakes. Beyond that, we’d be risking everyone’s lives to stay here.”

The engineer shook his head helplessly.

“I’m afraid Yanibar is doomed,” he said mournfully. “We’ll have to live somewhere else.”

“Can you make it last ten years?” Cassi asked suddenly, her face lighting up with a sudden realization.

“Possibly,” Sarth replied with a frown. “Why?”

“We might not be able to stay on Yanibar,” she said. “But I might have found us a place to go.”

As the others began plying Cassi with questions, Milya slipped off from the others and left the bridge, heading to Selu’s cabin. Selu shot her an inquisitive look at her as she departed, but she shook her head, signaling for him not to follow. Once inside the cabin, she found a metal box Selu kept in his travel kit, one whose locks could only be opened with a precise use of the Force. Milya sensed the two locks, both inside the box, and unlocked them telekinetically. The box slid open to reveal a rather ordinary looking comlink. Milya patched it into the ship’s systems. Unlike most comlinks, this one had only one frequency hard-coded into it. Milya activated the device, holding it close to her chest as she waited for response. Ten seconds went by, then twenty, then thirty.

“Come on, answer,” Milya said anxiously, her eyes closed in trepidation.

A minute passed and Milya had almost given up hope when the comlink chirped, indicating a completed connection.

“Hello?” asked a child’s voice. “Who is this?”

Milya breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is your mother there?” she asked.

“One minute,” the child answered eagerly. “Mom! Some lady wants to talk to you!”

A moment later, Milya heard a different voice through the comlink.

“Mother?” Milya heard her daughter’s voice and she nearly cried for joy at hearing the sound.

Due to Rhiannon’s marriage to an Outsider and departure from the refuge, Milya only rarely spoke to her. With most of Rhiannon’s memory mandatorily erased according the laws of the Yanibar refuge, it was too painful for Milya to speak to her often. The last time they had spoken was shortly after Rhiannon’s second child had been born three years ago.

“Yes, Rhiannon, it’s me,” Milya said.

“It’s been so long,” Rhiannon replied wistfully.

“I know,” Milya answered, a wave of regret washing through her. “Rhiannon, we need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” Rhiannon answered, sensing the troubled inflection in her mother’s tone.

Milya took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she was about to say.

“It’s time you knew the truth and were reconciled again,” Milya told her daughter, uttering words she had never dared dream of saying. “It’s time to reclaim your past.”

“What do you mean?” Rhiannon inquired.

“You need to find the pendant your father gave you,” Milya said, then added after Rhiannon gave no immediate response. “Yes, that pendant.”

“Mom, I. . .” Rhiannon stammered.

“Trust me on this, Rhiannon,” Milya said. “Memory is the key.”


 * Departing Borleias orbit

A lone individual stared out of the rear viewport of the massive warship’s bridge, disconsolately surveying the receding scene. Despite commanding all the firepower and majesty of a powerful, relatively new Star Destroyer, itself surrounded by dozens of other warships also under his flag, he found his thoughts directed outward at the stars rather than at the people who served under his command. They had already been taken care of to the best of his abilities. As he looked back a, a tall, blond-haired man also wearing an officer’s uniform silently slipped up to his side, his own countenance similarly contemplative.

“Well, Tycho, we did it,” Wedge said. “We gave the Vong a tremendous kick in the teeth on Borleias.”

He turned to regard his right-hand man carefully.

“We achieved a tremendous victory,” Tycho said. “We stalled their advance for over eighty days. We destroyed a worldship. We kept all of our major forces intact and our key people alive. They might have taken Borleias, but we bled them out doing it.”

“Was it worth it, though?” Wedge asked thoughtfully. “Do you think we gave the New Republic enough time to regroup?”

“We won’t know until we link up with the others,” Tycho answered stoically. “But we bought some time to give it the chance to do so, and if it doesn’t, then we’ll start over like we did with the Rebellion. If it comes to that, the networks we laid and the example we set on Borleias will be the kindling for others to see, just like those brave people were on Toprawa and Alderaan decades ago.”

Wedge knew that those words were strongly spoken from Tycho, who was originally from Alderaan, and he couldn’t help but feel inspired by them.

“Not just our example and our sacrifices,” Wedge reminded Tycho. “There was also Rishi.”

Tycho cracked a grin.

“Yes, but Rishi didn’t have a leading holojournalist on hand to document each stage of the defense against the Yuuzhan Vong and use the valor shown there as an inspiration for others around the galaxy. We did.”

Wedge nodded his assent.

“I think they prefer it that way from what Hobbie told me,” he said, referring to their mysterious defenders. “Rishi seemed like a comparatively small fight at the time, but we may never know exactly what impact that battle had. They came out of nowhere to defend that world when no one else would.”

“And that’s what makes them heroes,” Tycho replied. “They might fight for different reasons and have different allegiances, but they risked their lives to defend innocent people without asking for glory or reward. Just like us.”