Force Exile V: Warrior/Part 12

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Ryion carefully manipulated the Yuuzhan Vong shuttle into position as plasma cannon projectiles destroyed the droid fighters that had been chasing them towards the Yuuzhan Vong flagship. The mammoth warship had opened some kind of docking orifice and sent a coralskipper, clearly welcoming them into the formation of Yuuzhan Vong vessels that was now advancing on the Yanibar Guard Fleet. “This is such a simple ruse,” Zeyn pointed out. “You better hope they were fooled and we’re not walking into a trap.”

“If they had tried to use the villips, they would have found that they don’t respond. We killed them already,” Ryion said. “Being pursued by enemy craft, I don’t think they would have bothered questioning our identity.”

“When are those mines supposed to go off again?” Zeyn asked.

Ryion consulted the primitive sensor board that had been wired into the living compartment.

“Soon,” he said.

The organic shuttle came to rest inside a Yuuzhan Vong hangar, a cavernous cavity inside the grand cruiser filled with other shuttles. Dozens of slots for coralskippers were evident, but they were mostly deserted as the Yuuzhan Vong had already deployed their starfighter analogs. Ryion shuddered. Being inside a small Yuuzhan Vong craft with its eerie living insides was bad enough. Knowingly flying into a giant living ship teeming with Yuuzhan Vong warriors and who knew what kinds of bizarre biotechnology was monumentally worse. He had never seen such a large life form and his inability to sense it in the Force made it all the more mystifying.

“You ready?” Zeyn asked, breaking into Ryion’s surveying of the Bloodthirster’s interior. “They’re gonna wonder why we’re not opening the. . . whatever this thing has for hatches.”

Ryion’s mind snapped back to the present and he sought the reassuring lucidity of the Force to cleanse his mind of distractions. A second later, he was focused on his and Zeyn’s mission.

“I’m ready,” he said, pulling his breath mask over his face. “How many Vong are out there?”

“Lots,” Zeyn told him. “At least twenty are approaching the hatch. All warriors, too.”

“Wonderful,” Ryion replied. “Let’s do it. Deploy package one.”

The pair turned towards the exterior hatch of the Yuuzhan Vong shuttle craft. Ryion opened a cargo crate and waited as Zeyn drew his lightsaber and then tapped a button on his wrist computer.

As he did so, a series of shaped charges planted on the hatch detonated, blowing the hatch outward into the congregated Yuuzhan Vong warriors. At a telekinetic command from Ryion, silvery thermal detonators rose out of the crate, armed themselves and jetted out the hatch to fly into groups of Yuuzhan Vong. Ryion’s aim was guided by a pair of holocams mounted just inside the now-destroyed hatch while Zeyn stood guard, incinerating hurled thud and razor bugs that were directed at the hatchway.

“Too bad we can’t use the shuttle’s weapons,” Ryion commented as he directed three more thermal detonators into passages that were being filled with Yuuzhan Vong.

“I thought of that,” Zeyn replied. “Most Vong tech won’t work against the owners. Plasma cannons are probably the same way.”

“Too bad.”

One warrior attempted to bat away the thermal detonator hurling at him and his three comrades. He succeeded, but since the weapon had already been armed, it exploded less than a meter away from him with a loud crackle. The resulting orb of destruction annihilated him and his companions, who had previously been the largest group of opponents in the vicinity.

“Good enough,” Zeyn said. “Deploy package two.”

This time Ryion hit a button on his wrist computer. From other cargo containers, combat droids emerged and charged out of the hatch, weapons blazing. Eight droidekas rolled ahead and unfolded into their characteristic firing stance, hazy deflector shields glowing as thrown weapons hit them. Their blasters spat crimson bolts of death in reply. Following them were four hulking JRF-3 fire support droids. Though they lacked the shields of the droidekas, the JRF droids carried heavy weapons that normally were mounted on the back of Harasser speeders or operated from stationary mounts. Ryion heard the ratcheting sounds as the JRF droids deployed and unlimbered their repeating blasters, followed by a thunderous whump-whump-whump as they cut loose on the Yuuzhan Vong. Other JRF droids fired minitorpedo launchers or used beamlasers to cut swathes through the Yuuzhan Vong warriors. The screams and shouts of the warriors mixed with the screech of living weapons hitting metal and mingled with the high-pitched whine of the blasters and whoosh of minitorpedoes rocketing out of their launch tubes.

“Ready?” Zeyn asked Ryion.

Ryion nodded, drawing his lightsaber. He tapped the activation stud and the purple blade sprang from the hilt. Reaching up to his forehead, he slid his goggles down, then charged outside in the chaotic skirmish being waged in the hangar with Zeyn right beside him. An angry whirring filled the air as dozens of thud bugs, razor bugs, and blast bugs were hurled at the intruders by Yuuzhan Vong. Adopting the defensive Soresu form, Ryion and Zeyn advanced methodically, their lightsaber blades flashing as they parried and blocked the thrown ordnance. Their tightly-controlled defense was well-nigh impenetrable and the Yuuzhan Vong had clearly already attempted to charge the droids, at heavy cost to their numbers. Bodies were littered across the living floor. Many of them were charred significantly or sliced in half, their faces frozen in expressions of eternal hate. The hangar reeked with the acrid stench of burned flesh. However, the droids had suffered mightily even as they fanned out to form a perimeter around the landing craft. Only two of the droidekas and three JRF droids remained. Then it was down to two as two warriors leaped on a sturdy JRF droid, cramming blast bugs into its joints. Zeyn lobbed a grenade at them, blowing them away, but the droid was ruined.

“We need to move!” Zeyn called.

“Right,” Ryion replied as his blade wove through a defensive velocity, incinerating a trio of thud bugs. “Package three go.”

He stepped forward to cover both himself and Zeyn while Zeyn momentarily abandoned his lightsaber and raised his arms. Dozens of flares shot out from wrist launchers, saturating the hangar with searing light far too intense to look at without significant optical protection. Behind their goggles, Zeyn and Ryion were safe, and the droids’ targeting sensors were unaffected. The Yuuzhan Vong were not so lucky and their choices were either to attack blindly or retreat. Many of them were mowed down by the droids, but Zeyn and Ryion were long gone.

Racing down one of the tunnel-like corridors of the ship, the two Elite Guardians surprised several parties of Yuuzhan Vong warriors on the way to the hangar. Zeyn then threw a grenade or flare and the resulting distraction allowed them to easily kill the warriors. When approaching walls or barriers, the two would slice through if their X-ray mode showed it was clear. They avoided slicing through anything thicker than half a meter, wary of plunging their weapons into a sensitive portion of the ship’s innards.

“We’re three hundred meters in,” Ryion said. “If they’re tracking our path, they’ll know we’re heading for the prisoners. I expect a second layer of defense coming up soon.”

“Maybe we should have brought active camouflage,” Zeyn replied.

“That’s banking on the ship not being able to sense us walking through the corridors,” Ryion answered.

“If they know where we are, they’ve missed an awful lot of chances to ambush us,” Zeyn pointed out. “Which leads me to have a very bad feeling about this.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ryion said. “Maybe they think the prisoner area is easier to defend?”

“Or we’re being baited,” Zeyn offered pessimistically.

“Nonsense,” Ryion scoffed jocularly. “There is no conceivable way that you and I would be baited into a trap on the enemy flagship.”

“Good to know,” Zeyn answered deadpan.

Advancing slowly, the two infiltrators kept a careful watch for Yuuzhan Vong warriors, but found none. There had been no attempt at poisoning, so the two had temporarily shed their breath masks for now, leaving them strapped around their necks for easy access. The winding corridor led them to an intersection of some point. About ten meters to the entrance, Ryion held up a fist, signaling a stop.

“We’ve got problems,” he said.

“I sense it also,” Zeyn answered. “Reminds me of those beasts we fought on Rishi. Voxyn?”

“Undoubtedly,” Ryion told him. “At least two and thermals are indicating upwards of twenty Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Rather a tall order given that we’re out of droids. If the voxyn weren’t there it’d be more manageable.”

“They’re not attacking. They’re waiting for us, even though the voxyn no doubt know that we’re here,” Zeyn pointed out.

“It’s a wide gallery of some kind, easy to defend and set up multiple fields of fire. This is their second layer of defense and something tells me we’ll have to get through it to reach the prisoners,” Ryion said, transferring his thermal imagery to his wrist computer, which took the footage and rendered it as a floating holo projected from his armored gauntlet. “It’s even got two levels for any Yuuzhan Vong snipers.”

“We’re not getting through that alive,” Zeyn commented. “It looks like the prisoners are being held a couple hundred meters from the gallery. That passage leading to the left should take us closer, but we’d have to stroll by every single one of those warriors to do it. How’s your Force camouflage?”

“Not good enough,” Ryion replied. “Yours?”

“Same.”

Ryion blew out the breath he’d been holding for several seconds.

“All right,” he said. “Here’s the plan. I distract the Vong. You go for the prisoners.”

Zeyn arched an eyebrow quizzically.

“And leave you to be carved up by the Vong while I get to fight through all the guards around the prisoners alone?” he answered skeptically. “That’s the best you got?”

Ryion shook his head.

“We’re running out of time and options,” he replied.

Zeyn laid a hand on Ryion’s arm, giving him a concerned look.

“This isn’t Myrkr,” he said. “Learn from the lessons that happened there.”

Ryion opened his mouth to say something when the last person he would have expected to see materialized in front of him. His mother.

“Hello, Ryion,” she said.

Ryion jumped, startled.

“Mom?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

Then his eyes widened as he realized that her image was slightly transparent. Horrified at what that meant, his jaw dropped open.

“You’re not. . . not. . .” he stammered, unable to actually vocalize the fear that was accumulating like a black hole in the pit of his stomach.

Milya shook her head dismissively.

“No, I’m not dead,” she told him, then a slight smile played across her face. “I can see why you might think that though. I’m projecting an image of myself to you using the Force.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Ryion said. “So, not to be rude, but why are you here? Zeyn and I are kind of busy.”

Milya looked miffed at the curt reply.

“I wanted to let you know that we found the mystery planet. We also were followed by Yuuzhan Vong. We took them out, but I figured you might find that significant. There’s more also.”

Then her eyes narrowed.

“Where are you two?”

“Funny you should ask. We’re on the enemy flagship,” Zeyn mentioned flippantly. “Should I get you a holocard from the gift shop?”

Milya’s facial expression blanked.

“I see now why your father suggested I should talk to you in person,” she commented drily.

“Sounds like him all right,” Ryion replied. “We’re trying to rescue some YG prisoners, but. . .”

Suddenly, an idea hit him.

“But what?” Milya asked suspiciously.

“Mom, is that projection of yours visible to non-Force-sensitives?”

“Yes,” she told him. “I used it to talk to Jorge and Annita earlier in our trip. I can only see objects that are visible in the Force through it.”

“Does it work on Vong?”

“I did it once on a covert mission,” Milya admitted slowly. “Only works for a couple seconds, though, then they realize it’s a decoy.”

Ryion turned to Zeyn.

“Last I checked, you were the better shot. Is that enough time?”

“It’ll have to be,” Zeyn told him grimly.

“What are you talking about?” Milya demanded.

“We could use your help,” Ryion said appeasingly. “Or rather, your doppelganger’s.”

“What?” Milya asked.

“There’s this room full of Vong and two voxyn,” Ryion told her. “We have to get through it to reach the prisoners, but we can’t deal with both the Vong and the voxyn at the same time. If you can distract the Vong for us with your projection, I can distract the voxyn so Zeyn can pick them off.”

Milya’s jaw set as she fixed a pointedly disapproving gaze at Ryion.

“Son,” she said slowly. “I will spare you an extremely deserved lecture on the stupidity of your actions because I don’t want those to be my last words to you. I love you very much and I want to be able to come home to you and Selu. Do you understand me?”

“I do. I love you too, Mom,” Ryion said gravely. “And I’m sorry. It needed to be done. Those people are here because of me. I owe it to them.”

She shook her head.

“We’re wasting time. Give me the exact directions and I’ll try to make the projection do it. Ordinarily, this would be difficult, but Atlaradis is a very strong Force nexus, so that’s helping.”

Ryion gave her the directions and pseudo-Milya loped off, striding confidently through the corridor, though her image did pass through some of the irregularities in the walls’ contours.

“All right, stop,” Ryion called just as she approached the entrance into the gallery.

He turned to Zeyn.

“You ready?”

Zeyn withdrew two armor-piercing grenades from the bandoleer. He passed the rounds under his nose as if smelling them, kissed each one in turn, then loaded the first one into the underslung ordnance launcher on his S-2C carbine, placing the second one in a rack on the stock for quick access. Meanwhile, Ryion had unlimbered the shield he had been carrying on his back, slotting it onto his left arm. They stacked up behind Milya’s apparition, which had a lightsaber in its hand now.

“The gallery is five meters ahead. Once you reach it, you’ll turn right into an open area about six meters wide and twenty meters long. The Vong are that direction.”

“Got it,” she said, her voice all business, betraying none of the concern she had for her son and nephew, who were trespassing in the heart of the Yuuzhan Vong flagship. “Standing by for your mark.”

“Three, two, one, mark!” Ryion counted.

Milya’s doppelganger leapt ahead, igniting the lightsaber and twirling it in a defensive pattern. A flurry of thud and razor bugs were immediately hurled at it as Ryion darted out behind her. His lightsaber was up and swatting thrown ordnance also, but Milya’s doppelganger had attracted the initial volley of living projectiles from the Yuuzhan Vong, so he had a more manageable number to handle. The voxyn, not at all fooled by the Force projection, charged. One of them let an earsplitting screech in an attempt to disorient its opponents. However, the ample sonic damping afforded by the earpieces Zeyn and Ryion were wearing protected from that assault. The second voxyn stopped and spat a stream of brownish acid at Ryion. Ryion nimbly backflipped away from the corrosive liquid, which splattered on the living deck and began eating away at it, fuming noxiously. He batted away three more thud bugs in mid-air and landed gracefully. The Milya doppelganger had disappeared and now more Yuuzhan Vong were hurling weapons at him even as they began to charge him from behind the voxyn.

The loud report of a grenade launcher sounded off to his side even as Ryion simultaneously twirled his blade through an intricate defensive maneuver to incinerate a small swarm of razor bugs and deflected a stream of amphistaff venom with his shield. Off to his side, the first voxyn’s head exploded as the armor-piercing grenade fired by Zeyn found its mark. Ryion stood in front and just off to the side of Zeyn, defending him while he reloaded the grenade launcher.

A barbed tail jabbed menacingly at him with blinding speed as the second voxyn lunged. Ryion just barely managed to catch it with his shield, severing it with his lightsaber. The voxyn roared with pain and charged at him, raking at him with claws that Ryion knew were tainted with retroviruses. He was bowled over, catching the worst of the assault on his shield. All he could see was the ferocious teeth and claws of the voxyn, seeking to tear him to shreds. Ryion hacked at the creature with his lightsaber, but the blade glanced off of its scales, leaving only a light charred mark. He fought desperately even as it pinned him down, slashing at the tough polymer suit. The reinforced thigh padding was shredded by even a glancing swipe and Ryion knew he was running out of time. The voxyn would hit him with one of its many deadly weapons soon enough, or else the Yuuzhan Vong would finish him.

Staring into the voxyn’s merciless eyes, Ryion bashed its nose with his shield, hoping to stall. Even as it snapped, preparing to chomp at his throat, Ryion knew the teeth would find their mark, that he wasn’t fast enough to bring the shield back up. Just as the voxyn dove at Ryion, Zeyn fired. The grenade caught the voxyn in the mouth, punching deep into its thoat before exploding. The focused blast destroyed its jaw and tongue in a spray of gore and teeth. The voxyn emitted a strangulating sound as it tried to gash Ryion with its claws. Ryion was ready for it, though, using his shield to ward off the claws while stabbing his lightsaber through the roof of the voxyn’s ruined mouth. The purple blade stabbed through the tissue to pierce its brain, killing it. Ryion rolled to the side to get out from under where it would fall, his lightsaber sweeping up to catch a descending amphistaff intent on stabbing him. The blow was parried, but it knocked Ryion’s lightsaber away. Zeyn lunged forward, stabbing the Yuuzhan Vong warrior in the eye even as Ryion sprang to his feet.

Zeyn had continued his forward motion to buy Ryion time to recover, advancing recklessly into the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong, his blade dancing and flashing as he hacked his way through their midst. Ryion sensed no trepidation from his cousin, only resolute purpose and cheer. Zeyn seemed perfectly happy with his role, parrying thrown weapons and amphistaffs and coufees, his lightsaber scoring wound after wound on his opponents. Dread filled Ryion as he realized that his cousin was intent on sacrificing himself so Ryion would have a chance to complete the mission.

“Not this time,” Ryion muttered under his breath. “We learned from Myrkr.”

He made no attempt to recover the fallen lightsaber. Instead, channeling the Force, Ryion summoned the energy to flow through him, directing it towards his arms. He could feel its power accumulating under his skin as he formed it into the desired manifestation. Ryion had never unleashed the Force on this scale and he was aware of the palpable evidence of the concentrated energy. Small green tendrils of lightning played over his arms, glowing, crackling and popping. His hands and forearms felt like they were about to burst from the strain of containing so much raw Force power, until finally, Ryion raised his hands and cut loose.

Green bolts of Electric Judgment shot from his fingertips to consume the Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Ryion gritted his teeth and tried to feed the outpour further, acting as a conduit for the tremendous exertion. Warriors screamed as they were engulfed by the electrocuting tendrils, but Ryion did not relent. The Force storm grew until it consumed the entire gallery, filling the air with the dissonant electric screech and pop of the bolts, combined with the sizzling of burned flesh. Zeyn ducked away as the storm raged through the entire compartment. The Yuuzhan Vong tried to keep fighting, but their nervous systems were overwhelmed by the furious output of Force energy in such a violent manifestation. They writhed and twitched, helpless in the throes of the Force storm. One by one, either due to cardiac arrest, burst blood vessels, or simply excessive burns and trauma, they collapsed lifelessly. Only then did Ryion allow the storm to subside. Only then did Ryion lower his arms and cease the cascade of Force energy.

Zeyn stood to the side with lightsaber drawn in a ready stance, surveying the corpses strewn throughout the gallery.

“That is a nifty trick,” he said evenly. “I would be more impressed if I was sure you weren’t playing with dark side power there.”

Feeling drained from using such a consuming Force power at such great magnitude, Ryion had no witty retort available as he picked up his lightsaber.

“We can debate the philosophy at length later,” Ryion replied. “Given that I was using it to defend you from murderous sentient opponents who could not be persuaded to cease their attack, I’m considering it an acceptable use.”

“Not a very Jedi-like method of killing,” Zeyn admonished distastefully, nudging one of the charred Yuuzhan Vong corpses with one foot.

“Telekinesis doesn’t work on them,” Ryion reminded him. “If you knew of a better method, you should have used it.”

Zeyn finally wheeled around and glared at Ryion.

“When this is over, you’re going to get sorted out,” he said adamantly. “This is borderline, Ryion. We didn’t take out Psykith just to fall to the dark side.”

Ryion raised his hands in surrender.

“Whatever you want,” he replied placatingly. “For now, let’s just get the prisoners and get out of here. Are you hurt?”

“A little,” Zeyn admitted, turning his head to show the blood dribbling down his scalp. “Razor bug nicked me and I took a thud bug to the knee. Hurts a lot, definitely bruised, probably tore a meniscus.”

“That’s it?” Ryion asked, surprised. “I mean, I’m happy that you’re not injured worse, but thud bugs usually do much more damage.”

Zeyn shrugged as he applied a spray bandage to the wound.

“Maybe the knee padding in the suit absorbed more of the impact?”

“Or they’re using smaller thud bugs to try and cripple us rather than kill,” Ryion suggested. “Like for a capture attempt.”

“It would fit in with that trap theory,” Zeyn admitted. “But since such a thing is impossible, we have nothing to worry about.”

“Not if this was their trap,” Ryion pointed out. “Maybe most of the guards around the prisoners were diverted here.”

“And maybe you’re going to win the next Kuati beauty contest,” Zeyn answered jocularly. “There’ll be at least one more fight ahead of us, if not more.”

“Then let’s get to it,” Ryion said. “I’d hate to keep them waiting.”

Weapons ready, they advanced through the gallery, heading for the passageway that led towards the captive Yanibar Guard personnel.


 * Umbra’s Edge

All was quiet in the dark room where Ariada was being held against her will. Her eyes were closed, brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to maintain the protective Force cloak around the Umbra’s Edge. Her arms and legs trembled from the exertion and she could feel the beads of sweat accumulating on her skin. In her mind, Ariada was wrapping the ship and the selected radius that Therior had insisted upon in a bubble of concealing energy, hiding it from sensors and Force-users alike. Such a task was difficult even for a Jedi Master like Selu Kraen and normally well beyond Ariada’s capabilities. However, the eerie blue crystals in the room acted like a conduit for the Force, amplifying her own meager effort. With them enhancing her use of the Force, the struggle was controlling the Force camouflage. Her head throbbed and she knew her heart rate was skyrocketing, but she maintained her concentration, throwing every iota of Force power she possessed into shielding the Umbra’s Edge.

She knew from the ship’s noises that they had dropped out of hyperspace, and that meant they were in the Yanibar system. They were trespassers, intruders who were violating space that she had once sworn to protect from all who meant the refuge of Force exiles harm. She was directly violating her oaths, an indiscretion she had never dreamed of adding to her life’s tally of misdeeds, but she also had no choice. For the moment, she was powerless in the grasp of the Dark Jedi, and she would need their resources if she was to succeed in her quest to bring the Yuuzhan Vong to justice. Returning to the Yanibar Guard now was impossible; she had crossed the threshold of final decision.

“Excellent work, Ariada,” Therior’s voice cut in through the room’s comlink system. “We are close enough to Yanibar that I can sense the illusion protecting the refuge you spoke of. I have no need to see behind it.”

Ariada made no reply. The intense strain of hiding an entire ship and its crew from both the Force and sensors was too much for her to bear interminably. She could feel herself weakening, being overwhelmed by the power flowing through her and the surge of darkness from Therior and his companions that smothered her like a wet blanket.

“I cannot sense what is behind it, but I do sense some Force-sensitives in orbit. In fact, we are very close to a space station now that has several of them onboard. Their attempts to hide are imperfect—they cannot fully hide their true nature from me, nor can keeping their fleet behind that gas giant conceal them from my senses.”

He cackled, which Ariada found surprising considering how close they were to what was almost certainly Yanibar’s Helm, a converted Lucrehulk battleship that served as the Yanibar Guard Orbital Command. She would have anticipated that he would have been subdued and surprised by the sheer power of the Yanibar Guard and its defenders, but Therior did not seem even the least bit intimidated. Was his hubris that boundless? Anxiety erupted through her, forcing her to redouble her efforts to conceal the ship and the space Therior had insisted upon. She could feel her strength ebbing as her clarity of mind slipped away, eroded by the fears caused by Therior’s posturing.

“I can. . . only hide. . . little longer,” she bit out, nearly crying out from the tremendous taxing of her mind and body that the camouflage required.

There was a long pause and Ariada began to fear that Therior would ignore her, keep pushing her until she finally broke down and the Force camouflage collapsed.

“We have seen enough,” Therior replied, an odd choice of words given that he rarely included his companions in his choice of pronouns.

Another prolonged silence ensued and she bit her lip, trying to stifle a cry. A trickle of blood snaked down her chin and she realized how hard she’d been clenching her jaw. Relenting somewhat on meting undeserved punishment on her lip, she was nevertheless near the breaking point. Her entire body was shaking almost to the point of convulsions and sweat poured from every pore. Finally, she heard the voice of Therior again.

“We are leaving,” he said. “Our work here is done. Turn the ship around.”

Those words were like music to her ears, almost as good as actual relief. Surely she could endure for another five minutes. Her protesting body could be forced to persevere until they were safe from the threat that the entire Yanibar system posed to this ship. Then, as a bead of sweat slid down her spine, she felt it strike a nerve, a sensation that transcended merely the feeling of moisture on flesh. It was the perception of awareness, a tangible tingle that she had come to associate with being watched. Somehow she knew it was a he, a familiar presence. He hadn’t sensed her yet, but he would. Soon.

“Therior. . . we need to leave. . . now,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Someone is here. Someone who can see through.”

“What?!” he demanded.

“Warned you. . . about this.”

“I will deal with you later!” he snarled.

The comlink went dead and Ariada shivered helplessly as the perception slid closer and closer. She could sense its awareness noticing a wrinkle in the Force, as if detecting a star hidden in a nebula by sensing its mass shadow. The effect that she and three powerful Dark Jedi had on the Force could be hidden, but even the faintest ripple would be enough to clue in a sufficiently-adept Force-wielder. Ariada felt the sensation begin to latch onto that ripple, to trace back to its source.

Ariada.

She heard her name resonate in her mind, spoken in damning tones by a voice she knew all too well.

“He’s. . . coming,” she told Therior.

“Let him come,” she heard his mocking reply. “Fire.”

Ariada gasped as the presence finally locked onto her and she knew the game was up. The Umbra’s Edge had been detected and she knew who had found her: the same person who had captured her all those weeks ago, Morgedh clan Kel’nerh, the leader of the Elite Guardians, the foremost warrior on Yanibar, and her teacher. Now more presences seeking her were being added, no doubt as Morgedh contacted the Yanibar Guard. Overcome by exertion and with no more point in maintaining the cloak, she finally released the Force camouflage, exposing the ship and its occupants. She slumped down, sinking into her chair as she gasped for breath.

The ship lurched and jerked. Ariada could feel the throbbing of the frigate as its engines accelerated to full power. She wondered if they were being fired upon, but as fatigued as she was, she had no chance of escaping her restraints to find out. However, Aspra Serpaddis slithered in a minute later.

“Come,” he said, freeing her from her restraints. “You must see this.”

Limbs quavering and with her strength sapped, Ariada was powerless to rise. Aspra Serpaddis helped her up, then turned to face her.

“You must move on your own accord,” he said.

“I can’t. . .” she stammered. “Too weak.”

The Thisspiassian directed a cold reptilian gaze at her.

“Embrace the dark side, Ariada,” he said. “Use your anger to fuel you. Over prolonged periods, it can scar you, but it burns hot and dangerous for the short term.”

She nodded, focusing her mind on the injustices inflicted upon her by Therior and Krakadas. She thought about the torture, both mental and physical, that had been cruelly meted out by the two Dark Jedi even though they could sense the voracity of her claims. Hatred burned within her and she found new strength where she thought she was depleted, strength motivated by a desire to visit vengeance on those who had so callously hurt her, who had dared distract her from her noble cause to satisfy their sadistic curiosity and test her claims. Outrage welled within her at their depredations on her mind and body and somehow, Ariada found a way to walk. Her steps were weak andtentative, but she walked with purpose. She would see them pay and if that meant she had to walk, she would walk.

Aspra Serpaddis nodded approvingly, then led her to a viewport that gave an excellent aft view of the frigate from its underside. Ariada’s eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing.

Yanibar’s Helm was burning. The station seemed to be intact, but badly wounded. Beyond that, she could see distant flashes from what looked like a battle in the distance. A large detonation erupted either on Yanibar or in low orbit above it, visible even from this far away. Weapons fire was pursuing the Umbra’s Edge, some of it slamming into the aft shields. Ariada was instantly aghast. She had brought the Dark Jedi here so they would finally believe and accept her and this was how they repaid her? By attacking Yanibar? She could not sense any sentients in the battle who were not Yanibar Guard, so she suspected that Therior must have brought a large number of droids to serve as a distraction. That was no doubt why the Dark Jedi had insisted upon her camouflaging a 500-meter radius around the frigate at all times.

If she had been outraged before, what welled up within her was beyond that. It was a raw fury, saturating every cell in her body, and with it came power. Unbelievable power like she had never felt before. While she had been in the presence of powerful Force-users, even been within ten meters of Luke Skywalker at one point, she had never experienced such an inundation of the Force personally. She felt like a supercapacitor, charged to full power and ready to unleash it on whatever stood in her way. Her previous weakness was banished, her mental state filled with nothing but pure hate. Wrathful, she whirled on Aspra Serpaddis.

“What did he do?” she demanded.

He regarded her coolly, giving no answer. Ariada snarled and clenched her fists, manifesting her anger in the Force. The Dark Jedi frowned, visibly concentrating as he tried to ward off her Force grip, but as empowered as she was by her fury, he stood no chance against her. He rose into the air helplessly, paralyzed by her command of the Force.

“Tell me what Therior did or I will crush you one scale at a time,” she threatened.

Her voice seemed deeper than she remembered it, laden with malice and thick with emotion. Raw, uncontrolled passion flowed through it, along with an iron will to dominate. It did not sound much like the voice she was used to, and yet she liked it somehow. It made her feel powerful.

Aspra Serpaddis gasped for breath and she relented slightly so he could speak.

“We attacked the space station,” he explained. “We hit it to stop it from activating those mines you spoke of and launched weapons at the surface to disrupt their communications in case of terrestrial control. The defenders are currently dealing with a distraction while we escape. We jump to hyperspace in less than five minutes.”

Satisfied with his answer and its fidelity, she set him down. Fury still burned within her, but she had no immediate desire to vent it on Aspra Serpaddis. She would save her rage for the beings that truly deserved it.

Also, there was the matter of one presence still approaching the Umbra’s Edge, undeterred or slowed by any diversion. Ariada immediately knew that Morgedh was coming and he would not stop hunting them. He would find them. She turned back to Aspra Serpaddis.

“My lightsabers. Now.”

Two minutes later, fully armed, Ariada strode into the bridge behind Aspra Serpaddis. If Therior was surprised to see her with her weapons, he didn’t show it.

“Welcome, Ariada,” he said, a satisfied look on his face. “You have done well, as well as could be expected. As for the rest, well, our initial attack on the space station crippled its communications, and fission-fusion bombs do quite well at disrupting communications with their EMP blasts and sizeable fireball.”

Ariada’s jaw dropped.

“You dropped fission-fusion bombs on Yanibar?” she demanded.

“Don’t look so indignant,” Therior said dismissively. “That’s not all we dropped either.”

“How dare—,” she started

“I’d stop right there if I were you,” he warned her coldly. “These are the same people who imprisoned you in the middle of an ice field and would have left you to rot in that hellhole until you died of old age, utterly alone. They are your enemies—you are with us now, so don’t start feeling sympathetic.”

Angry enough to attack him, but fully aware that taking on three Dark Jedi while in the middle of a desperate flight from the Yanibar Guard was the height of imprudence, Ariada shut her mouth. Instead, she crossed her arms and fumed, biding her time until she could backstab him, just as he had used her to backstab the Yanibar Guard.

“My lord,” a rather pale-looking officer approached Therior with a cloth-covered bundle.

Therior scowled at it, risked a quick glance at Ariada, then decided he didn’t care. Stalking over to the officer, he pulled off the cloth to reveal a Yuuzhan Vong villip, a living communication device. He stroked it and the villip transformed into the three-dimensional representation of the head of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior.

“Our ship has been damaged,” the Yuuzhan Vong told Therior. “We cannot escape to darkspace, so we shall stay and fight like true warriors!”

“Did you get your package off?” Therior asked.

The warrior smiled evilly.

“Of course,” he said.

“And did they see your ship for what it was?”

“I don’t know,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered.

“Let’s hope they didn’t,” Therior said, turning to the weapons officer. “Fire all weapons on his ship. Toss in a couple of those fission-fusion bombs as well. Make sure no trace remains.”

The warrior’s expression shifted to outrage, but Therior simply stroked the villip again and it everted back into a docile state. Wiping his hand distastefully on the cloth, he flung it back at the hapless officer bearing the villip.

“Savage fools, but they have their uses,” he commented smugly, ignoring the enraged state that Ariada had worked herself into. “Wouldn’t want to tip off those murglaks down there if we can avoid it.”

She was trembling now, not with exhaustion, but out of sheer loathing for Therior. He had not only attacked Yanibar, but he had used the Yuuzhan Vong to do it. The very people she had sworn to bring to justice or eradicate were being used against a place she had once called home. Therior’s actions were the height of blasphemy, an abomination to everything she stood for and for that, she would kill him.

Out of the viewport, she watched the frigate’s weapons demolish the Yuuzhan Vong ship. Caught unaware, it did not position its defensive dovin basals until it was too late. The turbolasers burned through the yorik coral and the following bomb detonations vaporized the wreckage.

However, Therior’s order to direct all weapons on that target meant that there was no need for evasive flying from another threat, allowing it to catch up to the frigate unawares. A volley of torpedoes slammed into the frigate, momentarily collapsing its port shields. They were restored several seconds later as backups were brought online, but the damage had been done.

“My lord, a small ship has just docked with us,” one of the officers reported.

Therior whirled on the hapless man, his ire fully aroused.

“Why did you not warn me of this?”

“The sensors showed it onscreen, my lord,” the officer protested. “And you ordered us to fire on the other ship.”

Therior let out an inarticulate cry of rage and gestured violently at the officer. The man was picked up by an invisible hand and hurled several meters back to slam into a bulkhead. He collapsed lifelessly, his neck broken.

Ariada meanwhile realized with horror that Morgedh was now on the Umbra’s Edge. He had almost certainly seen the Yuuzhan Vong ship and he would be on his way to either the engine room or the bridge. While she would have no qualms about watching Morgedh and the Dark Jedi kill each other, should Morgedh win, she would be stranded in the Yanibar system. She would have to help them for now.

“We have to stop him,” she told them.

“Who?” Therior asked.

“It’s Morgedh,” she said. “My teacher. He’s onboard the ship.”

Therior laughed imperiously, giving her a haughty, condescending glare.

“If you’re his star pupil, I don’t think we have too much to be worried about. Security, deal with the intruder.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ariada fixed a cold stare on Therior, one completely devoid of empathy. A malicious smile spread across her face as she envisioned the idea of the arrogant Dark Jedi crossing blades with Morgedh clan Kel’nerh.

“I hope you’re that confident thirty seconds after you meet him,” she said icily. “I hope you’re that confident when he disables the ship and leaves us stranded here, surrounded by that Yanibar Guard you were laughing at just a few minutes ago.”

“She’s right, Therior,” Aspra Serpaddis said. “If he is as powerful as she says, we must deal with this.”

Therior scowled, but gave a curt nod.

“How long until we jump to hyperspace?” he asked.

“Less than two minutes,” the helmswoman replied.

“Jump as soon as possible,” Therior instructed her. “Do not wait for my signal.”

Then, he reached into his belt and withdrew a gleaming ebony-handled lightsaber. A resolute mask of anger and disgust etched on his face, he strode for the door leading from the bridge. Aspra Serpaddis and Krakadas produced weapons of their own and followed him. Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Ariada followed along as well, making sure to bury her own agenda deep inside her where it could not be sensed.


 * Over Rishi

“All hands, prepare for battle,” Selu ordered crisply as the Lightbearer swung around. “Fighters move to screen the fleet.”

The Yanibar Guard Fleet squadron was nearing the edge of the Yuuzhan Vong minefield cutting off Rishi from the rest of the galaxy. This far out from the planet, the world was a pale blue dot, its star a bright orb, no longer dominating their view. Selu paused for a moment, taking in the starscape around him. This close to the outskirts of the system, it was a beautiful scene, the inky black cosmos spattered and spangled with a plethora of gleaming pinpricks of light. Then a flight of Sabre starfighters crossed his field of vision and his mind snapped back to the present.

“Are you sure the Vong will take the bait?” Admiral Hasla Almani Cyrreso asked him concernedly, a point of worry she had brought up more than once.

“They have to,” Selu said. “If they don’t, we could be opening up a corridor for more reinforcements to arrive and grind their fleet into dust. This commander of theirs is more cautious—he won’t allow for that possibility. A more aggressive commander would simply try and take Rishi in our absence, but this particular Yuuzhan Vong seems more thoughtful.”

Hasla nodded reluctantly.

“I hope you’re right, sir,” she said, consulting her tactical board.

“Fleet elements are ready to target the dovin basal mines,” she apprised him.

“Good,” Selu replied. “Fire at will.”

Lances of light shot out from the larger warships of the Yanibar Guard Fleet, targeting distant dovin basal mines. Though their defensive singularities consumed many of the energy blasts, others found their marks. The dovin basals were invisible against the black backdrop of space but gravitic sensors that had been hastily fashioned based on information provided by the New Republic gave a more detailed view of the effect the barrage was having.

“Yuuzhan Vong fleet has left orbit,” one of the tactical officers reported. “Destination unknown.”

Selu nodded approvingly. The Yuuzhan Vong were taking his bait, now he just had to ready the trap.

“Are the mines ready?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Hasla informed him. “Reserves are on standby.”

Selu watched for five more minutes as his fleet continued to pummel the minefield with the distinctive violet turbolaser blasts of YGF. Pride and sadness welled up in him; pride for the knowledge that the crewbeings in the fleet were ready to fight and die for the cause of defending both Rishi and Yanibar, but sadness in knowing that many of them would soon likely be dead or grievously wounded. The weight of sending sentient beings into combat always bore heavily on Selu, but especially in conflicts of this magnitude. Those had been mercifully few since the founding of the Yanibar Guard, but Selu knew that every life lost here had a family member or friend back on Yanibar who would never see their loved one again.

“Vong ships decanting from hyperspace, grid 007, mark 6,” the sensor officer informed him.

Hasla hit the control and a holo display shimmered into view in front of the two flag officers. Two formations of Yuuzhan Vong ships, approximating a pincer, were closing on the Yanibar Guard Fleet’s position. Selu quickly ran the numbers in his head and frowned. The Yuuzhan Vong ships assembling to meet him comprised only a little over half of the total Yuuzhan Vong force. If his estimates of their warship strength were correct, the Yuuzhan Vong were sending an outgunned and outnumbered flotilla in to engage him.

“Where’s the rest of them?” Hasla asked.

“I’m not sure,” Selu said warily. “I don’t like this.”

“They are closing fast,” the sensor officer warned him. “Effective weapons range in five minutes.”

“We only have a few more minutes to disengage,” Hasla reminded him. “If we fight them here, their dovin basals will ruin our escape vectors.”

“I know,” Selu said, indecision momentarily plaguing him.

He paced back and forth, his mind racing with a hundred possibilities.

“Sir, incoming transmission from General Rayven,” he was informed.

“Pull it up,” Selu ordered.

“We’re under heavy attack!” the general exclaimed. “Vong ground forces everywhere! They tunneled into the eastern refugee camp and are attacking our base. They must have landed all those troops while we were busy with the convoy.”

“What’s your status, General?” Selu asked. “Can you hold?”

“Maybe,” the general replied doubtfully. “Their air support is hard to shake. Coralskips are making life hell for our boys. Our Stilettos can’t take them.”

“Copy that,” Selu said. “Admiral, dispatch eight squadrons of fighters back to Rishi. Tell them to microjump to the planet.”

“What if it’s a trap?” she asked.

“We’ll have to take that chance,” Selu answered grimly. “The base falls if we don’t. Send the Shien-class frigates and the Jalsinnare back with them; they’ll be more useful groundside. I don’t want to commit the full fleet to supporting the ground battle until we know for sure the Vong aren’t going to pin us into low orbit and wipe us out.”

Selu turned back to the tactical display representing the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, his mind made up by news of the terrestrial assault.

“Engage the DMS mines and prepare for microjump,” he said. “We need to take out as many of them as possible so we can deal with the rest quickly.”

“We’re sacrificing a strategic opportunity to trap the entire fleet,” Hasla warned him. “This will only work once.”

“This is the best chance we’re going to get,” Selu told her. “The minefield is weakened. I want one of our options to be evacuating our people off of Rishi and punching out. If we don’t deal with at least part of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, we won’t have that choice.”

“Understood,” she said. “Activating mines.”

Selu watched as green circles erupted on the sensor board, representing each DMS mine detonation. Out in space, tendrils of emerald energy erupted from the mines in spherical symmetry, blossoming to engulf the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. Fluctuating and writhing, the tendrils spread in every direction, undulating like some kind of agonized creature fighting to free itself from captivity. Then, at their apex, the emerald energy waves imploded, collapsing in on themselves and engulfing the affected area in utter blackness. Not even the stars were visible behind the cloud of dark matter and Selu knew that enough of the mines had burst successfully to render the area unnavigable for some time. Whereas the mass shadow generator weapon of old had needed the gravitic peculiarities of the Malachor system to perform its insidious task, the DMS mines had no such limitation. This time, their usage would not cause such hideous collateral damage. As Selu watched the green energy subside, flickering into nothingness, he knew that the Yuuzhan Vong were trapped, hopelessly trapped beyond all hope of escape.

“Fleet jumping in three. . . two. . . one,” Hasla informed him.

The Yanibar Guard Fleet jumped to hyperspace in unison, though it remained at superluminal velocities for only a few seconds, re-emerging just outside the radiation belts enclosing Rishi and its moon.

“All boards showing clear for the moment,” Hasla said. “The fighters and Jalsinnare are on their way to assist on the fight groundside.”

Selu nodded at her words, knowing that she was correct, but something about the situation bothered him on a visceral level. Where were the other Yuuzhan Vong fleet assets? How had they managed to launch a ground assault of surprising sophistication as soon as the Yanibar Guard Fleet moved to attack the minefield? He felt the worry twisting through him, so palpable that it provoked actual physical discomfort in his stomach. Then the sensor boards lit up with dozens of contacts, all winking from gray “unknown” to red “hostile” and the worry was like a cold knife plunged straight through him.

“Vong ships emerging around us on multiple attack vectors!” the sensor officer reported. “But how did they know?” “I don’t see their flagship,” Selu commented. “And there are too many ships here compared to what they had earlier. They’ve been reinforced.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re outnumbered,” Hasla responded icily. “This is clearly a trap.”

“Admiral, you have the fleet,” Selu told her. “I’m going to prepare for the end.”

“Understood,” Hasla replied, toggling her comm to address the fleet. “Move to formation Cresh Three-Eight, all batteries engage at will. May the Force be with us.”

The Lightbearer shook as the shields of the ponderous warship absorbed the first volley of projectiles from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, then shuddered again as its main weapons, enormous cannons that had originally been w-65 planetary defense turbolasers unleashed violet energy blasts twenty meters in diameter towards the marauding Yuuzhan Vong armada. Starfighters broke free of the Yanibar Guard formation to strike against marauding coralskippers while larger warships exchanged barrages of plasma cannons and turbolasers while jockeying for position. The surrounding space was soon saturated with explosions and debris as full battle was joined. The larger warships of the Yanibar Guard clustered up into a teardrop formation, screened by squadrons of starfighters. Overlapping fields of fire blasted away at the encroaching Yuuzhan Vong squadrons, while molten plasma projectiles and insectoid grutchins were hurled back in response. As the insects swooped closer, rows of StarfirePD point defense batteries on the capital ships opened fire, spitting thousands of blaster bolts, constantly swiveling and traversing to chew through the swarm of hull-eating grutchins. As the remainder swooped in closer, secondary flak cannons fired explosive shells into their midst, shredding them with shrapnel and severely weakening that avenue of Yuuzhan Vong attack.

However, the return fire of the Yanibar Guard Fleet turbolasers was just as ineffectual. Dovin basals generated singularities to consume turbolaser blasts and missiles, swallowing damage that would have ravaged comparable Imperial or New Republic ships. Only after the Yanibar Guard ships received coordinated firing solutions and targeting vectors did their gunnery truly begin to have any effect on the Yuuzhan Vong formation. Meanwhile, the intuitive telepathic mind of the Yuuzhan Vong yammosk war coordinator rapidly sensed that massed attacks by coralskippers and grutchins were having limited effect. It commanded the Yuuzhan Vong formations to attack in a swarming fashion, slashing in from all angles to dilute the defensive fire. The tactic was successful and the Ataru-class gunship Even Piell was the first to wither under the assault, hulled repeatedly by plasma blasts and beleaguered by grutchins chewing into the engine compartments. Both sides were trading blows.

26
Utterly exhausted by such a draining technique as projecting a moving apparition of herself thousands of light years away, Milya teetered on her feet, nearly falling over. Her wounded legs would not support her without the Force to keep herself upright and she felt weaker than she had in years, even buoyed by the Force power emanating from Atlaradis. She grabbed at the sill next to the viewport on the Silent Surprise for support, using her relatively unharmed arms to steady herself. The cabin door hissed open at that point, but Milya was too worn out to even passively sense the new arrival in the Force. Her mind was spinning from the exertion.

“What are you doing up?” Cassi demanded, quickly striding over to where Milya was standing by the viewport.

Seeing Milya close to falling, Cassi placed her arms under Milya’s shoulders, supporting her.

“You should be resting,” Cassi chided her gently.

“I was talking to Selu. And Ryion,” Milya replied weakly, even as she allowed Cassi to half-drag, half-walk her back over to her bed and sit her back down.

Cassi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“From here?”

Milya offered a thin smile.

“Force projection. Takes a lot out of me even when I’m well, but the planet helps with that.”

“Yes, I sense the Force is very strong here, too. I hope we get a chance to visit it soon, but first. . .”

Cassi trailed off, which was uncommon for her. Milya gave her an inquisitive look.

“What is it?”

All cheer had been erased from Cassi’s face; she looked as serious as Milya had ever seen her.

“You should see for yourself,” Cassi answered quietly.

She left the room for a minute and returned with a hoverchair, floating it over to Milya’s bed. Milya climbed in slowly, not wishing to antagonize her wounded limbs further. Cassi pushed the chair out of the door, leading her from her cabin to the small medical bay on the Silent Surprise. Out of all the party, only Cassi and Milya had been hale enough to remain in their own cabins after their fight with the Yuuzhan Vong. The other three had been kept in the medical bay, attended to by Cassi and a 2-1B droid kept there. When they arrived, Jorge and Annita were sleeping, and Cassi pushed Milya’s chair over to the bed with Mithunir was lying. He was pale, a blanket covering his heavily bandaged chest. He coughed and tried to sit up as they approached.

“No, don’t,” Cassi urged him. “You need to save your strength.”

His aged face creased with a smile.

“I have little need for further strength, Cassi Kraen,” he said hoarsely. “Just enough for a few last words.”

“Don’t say that,” she told him. “You’re going to be fine.”

Mithunir coughed, his breathing increasingly labored.

“We both know better,” he wheezed. “I have no regrets, Cassi Trealus. I have seen a world long only known to us in legends and I have fought alongside friends to defend it. I can ask for nothing more.”

“Is he?” Milya asked.

Cassi nodded soberly.

“Barring a miracle,” she admitted helplessly. “I tried, but. . .”

A tear slid down her face at her admission. Mithunir reached out to take her hand.

“My life is complete. Do not grieve for me. It is you who will need your strength for what lies ahead.”

“This was your quest,” Cassi told him tearfully. “It’s not right that you shouldn’t live to see it through.”

“Ah, but I have,” Mithunir replied with great satisfaction. “I have brought you here, that you would believe as I do in the legends of Atlaradis. And you do believe now, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Cassi said, while Milya nodded in agreement.

His smile broadened.

“Then it is you who must bring your people here, all who wish to come, and to tell my people that I found it.”

“I will,” Cassi promised before Milya could get in a word. “I’ll tell your people what you found.”

“Take my ring,” he said. “It will tell them that I sent you.”

Wordlessly, Cassi slipped it off his finger, clasping it tightly.

“Thank you,” Mithunir told her weakly. “Now leave me. See to your companions. See Atlaradis.”

“We’re not just going to leave you,” Milya put in bluntly.

Mithunir shot an amused look in her direction.

“Soon, I will be beyond your concern, Milya Kraen,” he said with a chuckle. “Soon, I shall be one with the Force. I should like to spend my last few minutes in this temporal body contemplating that.”

He coughed again more forcefully this time, his body wracked by the coughing fit.

“You have done enough,” he told her simply.

“Do you have family?” Cassi asked. “Somebody we should contact?”

“I have no living blood relatives,” Mithunir said. “Those who use the Force for good, they are my family. Find the Kro Var and tell them. . . tell them what we found. Bring the willing here. That is all I ask.”

“All right,” she answered.

“Good,” he murmured weakly. “Now leave me. See to your friends. I am growing tired. . . and soon I will rest.”

Milya caught his drift and she laid a hand on Cassi’s shoulder.

“How are Jorge and Annita doing?” she asked.

Cassi turned away from Mithunir, a mournful expression on her face.

“Not well,” she admitted. “The wounds were minor, but the Yuuzhan Vong poison weakened their hearts. I’ve neutralized most of the poison, but their bodies are having a hard time recovering.”

“Even with Force healing?” Milya asked, surprised.

Cassi nodded ashamedly as she sat down in another chair in the medical bay, her eyes brimming with tears of guilt.

“I tried healing both of them for several hours but it just. . . wasn’t enough.”

“Cassi, you can’t blame yourself,” Milya told her soothingly. “You’re the reason they’re still alive. I’d be willing to bet that if you hadn’t done everything you did, they wouldn’t still be here. I know for sure that you saved me back there, fighting that last warrior. None of this is your fault.”

“They could still die,” Cassi fretted, the tears flowing freely.

“You are just as exhausted as I am, if not more,” Milya said. “Probably more, since you’ve been healing and watching out for us this past day while I’ve been soaking in bacta and resting. I know you, Cassi. You have just as much power and skill of any Force healer I’ve ever met and you certainly have the biggest heart. If anything happens, it was not from lack of effort or skill on your part.”

Cassi acknowledged her with a faint nod. She tried to speak, but only a sob came out.

“Remember what happened with Rhiannon?” Milya asked. “How you tried to heal her for weeks after her illness, but couldn’t get her eyesight to return?”

Another weak nod.

“We finally told you to stop, that you’d done enough, right? Sometimes, things are beyond our control to influence, so the best thing we can do is accept them.”

“How can you be so calm?” Cassi asked. “Jorge and Annita might die!”

“I know,” Milya said, the vocalization sending a stab of pain through her heart. “And if that happens, I will grieve for them. But until then, I cannot let my worry consume me. I have to look to the future while focusing on the present.”

“You’re so strong,” Cassi confided. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“You’re strong, too,” Milya replied, wrapping her arms around Cassi and hugging her close. “You don’t even know how strong you are in your own way.”

The door to the medical bay slid open and Pesrah entered. Milya turned to look at him suspiciously.

“Who gave you permission to enter this ship freely?” she asked, reaching for a lightsaber that somehow hadn’t made it into her bathrobe pocket.

“I apologize; I did not mean any offense,” the Rakata answered in an attempt to allay Milya’s dubiety. “Your companion Cassi gave me access. I have brought additional medical supplies.”

He handed her a basket which he had been carrying, filled with vials and containers.

“It is not much; while we have had Humans living on Atlaradis in years past, it is rare that we need much in the way of medical supplies. Few skilled healers remain who are familiar with Human physiology.”

“Thank you,” Cassi said, wiping at her eyes.

“Could you arrange for any of those healers to be brought here?” Milya asked. “My companion has been trying to treat all four of us by herself and she is worn out.”

Cassi started to object, but Milya shot her a warning look which stilled the protest unsaid.

“Yes, I can do that,” Pesrah said. “I did not wish to intrude earlier, or I would have offered.”

“Thank you,” Milya answered.

“I have no doubts that they will come,” Pesrah assured her.

The Rakata bowed his head slightly and left.

“I should get back to my work,” Cassi told Milya.

“You should rest,” Milya answered. “Sleep for a couple hours. You’ll feel better. You’ve been awake for at least 35 hours now. The medical bay can be programmed to warn you of any sudden changes, and Two-Onebee can watch over things.”

“You’re right,” Cassi admitted. “I just feel so. . . helpless. Mithunir is dying and Jorge and Annita might be as well, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Start by doing yourself a favor and not taking so much responsibility,” Milya suggested softly. “It’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” Cassi replied, but she allowed Milya to lead her out of the medical bay where she’d spent the better part of the last thirty hours.


 * Bloodthirster

Tsaruuk watched the living hatch sphincter leading to the chamber from an elevated dais hidden in the shadows behind the huddled and carefully restrained and gagged prisoners. The glow lichen in the chamber had been manipulated to produce less light than usual, shrouding him and a large party of warriors. All was ready.

“Commander, the infidel fleet has jumped to darkspace,” one of his warriors reported. “Wait. . . they are arriving closer to Rishi.”

“As I expected,” Tsaruuk said. “Deploy the remainder of the fleet to engage and bring in the reinforcements that the warmaster sent. Maneuver our squadron to engage as well.”

Tsaruuk did not tell the subordinate that he had no expectation of his formation actually being allowed to engage the infidel fleet. They had lured him out here for a reason and now he would take the bait only to trap their forces at Rishi and wipe them out with the remainder of his forces, plus additional ships sent by Tsavong Lah. He had taken Bloodthirster out as part of the bait force if only because the infidels might decide not to use whatever trickery they had devised if he hadn’t arrived.

The fact that they had still sent a boarding team after his flagship meant that they weren’t planning on completely destroying the surrounding space—they had shown considerably restraint in avoiding sacrificing their people, and Tsaruuk was certain that such a coldly rational tactic as destroying their own as well as his own flagship was beyond them. He wished he hadn’t been needed to protect the prisoners he had seized, but Tsaruuk trusted his fleet commanders to handle a battle against an outnumbered and surrounded opponent. He did not trust his warriors to fight off a boarding party which no doubt included the infidels’ most cunning Jeedai and fighters. There was also a purely self-indulgent motive in his decision to tarry on Bloodthirster; Tsaruuk was almost hoping that the Jeedai would prove strong enough to break through to this sanctum. He had never fought a Jeedai before and if he could defeat one, he could devise methods to help other Yuuzhan Vong defeat them as well.

“The Jeedai invaders are close,” another warrior reported. “They have already defeated the second layer.”

“Very well,” Tsaruuk replied evenly. “They are moving faster than I might have expected. How many are there?”

The warrior looked apprehensive, as if dismayed by having to give Tsaruuk bad news.

“Just two, Commander,” he said. “They left their infidel droids in the docking chamber.”

Tsaruuk’s expression reflected his surprise.

“Only two? Two Jeedai have fought this far into our ship?”

The warrior nodded dismally and Tsaruuk adopted a stern glare laden with disapproval.

“After this battle, we shall have to improve the tactics and training of our warriors,” he admonished the warrior, even though it was no fault of his.

The warrior inclined his head respectfully and Tsaruuk resumed his vigilant watch on the hatch sphincter. It was only two minutes later that it blew open, consumed by an explosion that blew chunks of the living door across the room, but as per Tsaruuk’s instructions, no warriors were close enough to the hatch to be caught by the blast. A glowing energy blade emerged through the smoke, and then another as the two Jeedai entered the room. A hail of thud bugs and razor bugs greeted them, forcing them to advance slowly as they caught the missiles on their lightsabers. Tsaruuk let them take two or three more steps into the chamber, then he stroked a creature that had only recently been implanted into the ship’s neural network. The response sent a biochemical impulse to the recently placed hau polyps near the ruined entrance. The polyps burst suddenly, plunging the Jeedai into blorash jelly up to their ankles. Tsaruuk smiled ferociously as the blorash jelly snared them in place. They were unable to move their feet and their struggles only caused the jelly to tighten its grip. The warriors continued to hurl living weapons at them until Tsaruuk held up his hand to stop them. The tizowyrm in his ear served as a living translator, allowing him to speak the common galactic language of Basic.

“You have fought with considerable courage, for infidels,” Tsaruuk announced to them from the shadows. “Dozens of my warriors swore to me that they would not let you advance this far, yet here you are.”

“I take it that you must be the head Yuuzhan Vong,” one of the infidels replied. “Are you going to make introductions, or is lurking in the shadows while others do your dirty work more your style?”

The insult stung, even as Tsaruuk dismissed the words as the futile ravings of trapped prey.

“I am Commander Tsaruuk,” Tsaruuk answered. “Now surrender your weapons. All of them. Further resistance will accomplish nothing.”

“Afraid we can’t do that,” the other infidel told him. “See, he’s still ahead of me in kills. This might be my last chance to pass him up.”

“Not on your life,” the first infidel shot back.

Tsaruuk nodded, completely unsurprised by their defiance.

“You show fighting spirit. That is good! I know that you likely have enough infidel weapons to kill many of us, even hampered as you are,” Tsaruuk told them. “However, I should hope you do it quickly, for five of my warriors are standing by the captives you came to rescue, ready to start killing them if you do not surrender now. Are you willing to be responsible for their deaths?”

He waved his hand at another warrior, who increased the luminosity of the glow lichen to reveal that his threat was not idle. Five warriors were indeed standing ready with rigid amphistaffs by the prisoners, weapons already held across the throats of their first would-be victims.

Tsaruuk grinned evilly.

“Lay down your weapons, Jeedai. All of them.”

The Bloodthirster lurched unexpectedly, but Tsaruuk and the warriors stood fast, while the Jedi remained pinioned. A villip from the ship’s master everted beside the Yuuzhan Vong, a troubled look reflected on the warrior’s face.

“Commander, we are unable to jump to darkspace,” the warrior said nervously, the words flowing quickly from his tongue. “Some kind of infidel weapon has trapped the fleet! There is more. Several ships have been lost, while others are badly injured.”

Tsaruuk looked out through the living viewport and saw green shockwaves engulfing his fleet squadrons, followed by utter blackness which blotted out the stars.

“What’s the matter?” one of the infidels taunted him. “Little setback, Commander?”

Though perturbed by how the infidels had launched such a crippling attack without warning, Tsaruuk knew that it was not useable on demand, or they would have already employed it against his forces. Maybe it could not be used closer to planets or caused collateral damage.

“A minor one only,” Tsaruuk replied confidently. “The remainder of my fleet plus new reinforcements is already leaping to attack your infidel forces. They will be surrounded and crushed even without my participation.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” one of the Jeedai warned him, but his words lacked their earlier bravado.

“You should be more concerned about yourself,” Tsaruuk said with false sympathy. “Now, this is the last time I shall say this. Lay down your weapons or I will start killing the captives.”


 * Rishi 

Bryndar stood just inside the tactical command room in full armor sans helmet, surveying the holos as General Rayven tried to direct the defense of the base from the sudden Yuuzhan Vong onslaught. He stood out in the cramped room, bulkier and taller than any of the others by virtue of the battlesuit he was wearing, in contrast to the simple uniforms of the officers. He was also likely the only one armed with anything larger than a blaster pistol either. Huddled in a corner off to the side were Colonel Klivian, the governor, the Chalactan viceroy, and their defense staff. The room was filled the beeping and chirping of a hundred computers and the cacophony of three dozen voices as controllers tried to maneuver troops and droids across the battlefield. The general stood at a central holotable which displayed the base and the steep cliffs that protected three of its sides. A secondary display presented smaller feeds that cycled between different areas of the conflict. The general was watching intently, entering in commands into the table’s interface or giving intermittent orders to his subordinates.

The secondary view cycled to a feed from the one side of the base that was open to the valley, where lines of Predator and Reaper droid walkers stood in place, with droidekas clustered in between them. Behind and above them, Yanibar Guard infantry and artillerymen manned emplacements built on a five meter-high wall, while vehicles rolled up specially constructed ramps that gave them access to the parapet. The droids, vehicles, and artillery were firing steadily, sending streams of weapons fire down the valley at distant targets, lighting up the valley floor with flashes from impacts. Bryndar suspected that the Yuuzhan Vong were close enough for the YGA snipers to engage them as well, though of course their weapons would be almost impossible to see firing.

The holodisplay shifted, showing a group of Stiletto gunships swooping in to pound a column of Yuuzhan Vong troop carriers. Return fire soared up at them, splashing amidst the formation of aerodynes, downing one. The general switched the secondary view again and this time, showed a helmet-cam view of several Jalsinnare extracting a formation of trapped Yanibar Guard patrollers from the edge of the refugee camp. Blurs that could only be Yuuzhan Vong projectiles flew past the camera view and the heavily-armored infantry blazed away with their weapons, apparently hotly engaged by the enemy.

Finally, Bryndar figured he had stood there long enough. After all, the general had sent for him. His squad and several other commando units had been specifically held back from engaging at front wall and now Cresh Squad had been called all the way back to headquarters, in the center of the base. Was the general planning on using them as a quick reaction force, or did he suspect an assault directly on headquarters? Bryndar wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t going to wait around forever.

“General Ravyen, you wanted to see me, sir?” Bryndar asked as he stepped forward.

The general looked up and noticed him for the first time.

“That’s right,” he said. “Cresh Squad has long had a reputation as the best of the commandos, but I wanted you to see this before I gave you a mission.”

“Anything’s better than sitting around, sir,” Bryndar replied firmly. “What do you have for us?”

“A mess,” the general replied succinctly, panning the table’s view over to display the easternmost of the three refugee camps now situated near the Yanibar Guard encampment. “I’m sure you’ve been monitoring the comm nets, but this refugee camp came under attack a little over three hours ago. The Vong tunneled in and then attacked in force from the outside. It’s less than a kilometer from here, but the place is crawling with Vong even as their main forces are gathering for an assault here.”

“Yes sir, I know,” Bryndar said.

“We managed to get most of our people out,” the general said. “The Jalsinnare, some brave Javelin shuttle pilots, and several squads of commandos on STAPs flew in there and extracted the hundred or so we had inside the camp. Most of the rest are confirmed KIA; less than ten Yanibar Guard personnel are unaccounted for in the refugee camp.”

“Yes, sir,” Bryndar replied. “And you specifically ordered Cresh Squad and four other commando outfits not to participate in that mission.”

“I did,” the general admitted. “It was bold of Commander Drashvala to order such a measure. Her quick thinking and our preplanned evacuation strategy saved many lives, but now we are left with a problem. The Yuuzhan Vong have overrun the refugee camp and there are still thousands of refugees there. The Yuuzhan Vong have us heavily outnumbered and we can’t afford to leave the defenses here in force and risk being trapped. Is there any way for your troops to clear a path to get them out?”

Bryndar looked at the holo of the battle, noting the Yuuzhan Vong positions on the bluffs overlooking the valley leading from the refugee camp to the Yanibar Guard base which had no doubt been established after the Yanibar Guard’s evacuation from the camp. Thousands of Yuuzhan Vong were advancing on the Yanibar Guard base, while no doubt hundreds more were sacking the refugee camp. Thankfully, the other two refugee camps seemed unscathed so far aside from coralskipper strafing runs. Bryndar also knew that only a thousand or so refugees, mostly government officials and some of the Chalactan defense force, were in the Yanibar Guard base, out of many thousands who had been staying in that refugee camp. To attempt an advance down the valley in broad daylight might be possible for several commando squads who could move covertly and discreetly. Moving thousands of refugees, or even a few hundred would be impossible. There would be no way to avoid detection and no way to protect that many if they came under attack.

“No sir,” Bryndar admitted. “It would be suicide. We’d get ourselves killed as well as the refugees.”

The general nodded understandingly.

“We finally have some air cover from those damned coralskippers and some assault frigate support as well. How about an aerial extraction?”

“The Yuuzhan Vong would see us coming, sir. It’d be near impossible to clear a landing zone and then trying to herd civilians into transports while under fire? The Yuuzhan Vong could bombard the LZ, or attack it. We couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting refugees. Worst of all, they could use their masqued agents to disguise themselves as refugees, then slip into the base to cause havoc. With most of our combat strength at the front wall, we’d be vulnerable to infiltration.”

“Your thoughts mirror my own,” General Rayven told him. “But I wanted to hear it from you, and I wanted them to hear it from you.”

He gestured over towards the governor, the viceroy and Colonel Klivian, whom Bryndar hadn’t realized had been listening to every word of their conversation. The general’s questions and his responses had been for their ears, not to satisfy his own curiosity. Bryndar realized that General Rayven had known all along that a rescue mission to extract the refugees was a military impossibility, but he had wanted someone who wasn’t a staff officer to say it to these foreigners, who had no doubt been clamoring for such a foolhardy attempt.

“Colonel Knrr here leads my best squad of commandos. He was the rearguard for our convoy extraction from Junro,” General Rayven remarked. “Even he says any sortie to the refugee camp would be disastrous.”

“Those are our people,” Viceroy Berecca pleaded. “They are dying there, killed by the Yuuzhan Vong. Didn’t your people come here to protect them?”

“We did, Viceroy,” the general told him. “But I’m not going to waste lives in a failed attempt that will only get more people killed.”

“So you’re just going to abandon us and protect yourselves now?” the governor protested irately. “I see how it is. Well, we have resources of our own. We still have the Rishian and Chalactan defense forces. You’ll let us out of your base if we want to go, right?”

“If you think that is best,” General Rayven replied languidly. “I give no guarantees about letting you back in.”

The governor spluttered, furious, then turned towards Hobbie.

“Colonel Klivian’s people have their own encampment built alongside yours. His forces will assist us and then we can escort the refugees there. We don’t need you! Right, Colonel?”

Hobbie gave the holotable a long, evaluating stare, straightening from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

“Your troops got a death wish, governor?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” the governor replied indignantly.

Hobbie pointed at the Yuuzhan Vong positions closing in on the Yanibar Guard base.

“There’s about ten thousand Vong between us and that refugee camp,” he said. “I figure on another couple thousand inside the camp itself. We have less than half that number of soldiers at our disposal, and you expect them to go up against twice that many Vong?”

“I presume we’ll still have artillery support from our erstwhile friends,” the governor said, shooting a sidelong glance at General Rayven.

“Vong like to fight close in,” Hobbie remarked. “They’re tough, too. Hard to break them with just bombardment. Escorting a bunch of refugees back through that would be even worse.”

“You’re saying you won’t help either?” the governor asked.

“Seems to me there’s nothing we can do. They’d either die to the Vong in that refugee camp or die on the way over here, or maybe even die after they got inside the base,” Hobbie answered laconically. “No matter how you look at it, they’re still dead.”

“Colonel Klivian is right,” General Rayven put in. “We need to focus on the lives we can save. The best thing we can do for those refugees is distract the Yuuzhan Vong to the point where they need all their forces here and can’t spare any to attack civilians. We’re protecting the other two camps right now. If we are defeated out in the field, they will be overrun as well.”

“We need to wait for the right moment to launch any kind of strike,” Hobbie stressed.

“When is that?” the governor asked. “When the Vong overrun this little hole you’ve dug for yourselves?”

“When we have a chance of succeeding,” Hobbie said. “I’ve been through enough crazy stunts that I’ve had more near-death experiences than birthdays. And I almost don’t mind them. An attack now would be a certain-death experience. We’ll get a better chance than this.”

The governor’s face was contorted with impotent fury.

“I have family and friends in that camp, General,” he snarled. “And I will not stand by and let them be killed by the Yuuzhan Vong!”

“I understand,” General Rayven said. “Colonel Knrr, give this man a weapon.”

Bryndar did as ordered, retrieving an S-1D blaster pistol from a weapons locker along with a holster and a belt. Noting that the weapon was unloaded, he also handed the governor a power pack.

“Governor, I believe you know the way to the refugee camp,” General Rayven said. “You are free to intervene on their behalf as you see fit.”

The governor slotted the power pack into place, hefting the blaster pistol.

“How do you know I won’t threaten you with this?” he asked.

The blaster pistol suddenly flew out of his hands into General Rayven’s waiting grip. It was now pointed at the governor.

“Because this would happen,” the general said simply, and then he returned the blaster, grip-first, to the governor. “I am sorry for your loss, but I cannot do what you are asking. I must consider the fate of the entire planet. In times of great trials, leaders are often called to make great sacrifices and difficult choices. How we answer that call is what defines us.”

The governor’s face was wrenched with grief, agonized by helplessness and worry. He stared at the ground for several seconds, eyes darting back and forth as his duty wrestled with his rational mind. The more he considered the matter, the more his face was contorted, stricken by the unfortunate knowledge of the pragmatic decision. His hands shook, nearly to the point of dropping the blaster. His resolve broken, it seemed to require tremendous effort to muster his next words.

“Our troops will respond to your orders,” he said finally. “Deploy them as you see best. I will leave you to your work.”

“Thank you, Governor,” General Rayven answered slowly as the governor and viceroy turned to leave.

“One last thing,” the governor added, his voice laced with anger. “Kill all of the Vong. I want them to regret ever setting foot on this world.”

General Rayven nodded in acknowledgment of his words, if not total agreement, then returned his focus to the battle raging outside the walls of the base. Bryndar stood there for a moment longer, confused as to why he hadn’t been dismissed. Finally, standing there passively grew to be too much and he approached the general again.

“With respect, sir, is there a reason I’m still here and four commando squads haven’t been ordered into action yet?”

The general did not make eye contact with Bryndar, his gaze enraptured by the holotable. The glowing display flickered as it rendered a large explosion and the accompanying shockwave that Bryndar recognized as a Hope Strike.

“I’m holding you as a reserve,” General Rayven explained. “In case of a Yuuzhan Vong incursion over the ridgeline or from below. The commando units I’ve held have seen the most action over the last two weeks. I don’t want to commit tired troops, however elite, until they are truly needed.”

Bryndar felt agitation well up within him.

“Sir, my squad is ready to do their duty,” he insisted.

“And your duty right now is to stay alert and wait for further instructions,” General Rayven replied firmly. “That will be all, Colonel.”

The commando’s jaw stiffened and his fist clenched subconsciously. Cresh Squad and the other three units out there had always been one of the first outfits in the entire YGA called upon when trouble arose. And now they were being held back in what might be the greatest need of the Yanibar Guard in the last twenty years. He wanted to argue vehemently with the general, but suddenly realized that his vexation and fuming were all too reminiscent of the governor’s previous protests. Any contesting he did of the general’s orders would be one in spirit with the governor’s tactically fatal suggestions. Still irritated to the core but resigned to accepting the general’s wisdom, he turned to leave even as the general spoke with one of the myriad controllers and communication officers clustered around terminals in the room. Bryndar was almost to the door when General Rayven’s voice stopped him.

“Wait, Colonel Knrr,” he called.

Bryndar stopped, then wheeled with deliberate slowness.

“Sir?”

The general seemed hesitant, as if unsure if speaking to him was the best idea. Finally, he shook his head slightly and continued.

“YGF has just informed me that Paladin Twelve has been shot down,” he said. “Their best telemetry indicates it was on the other side of the ridgeline, about twenty kilometers.”

Bryndar’s eyes widened as he absorbed the news, then narrowed quickly as he brought himself back into his soldier-mindset. He was a commando right now, not a concerned husband.

“What’s the status of the pilot?” he asked, unable to refer to her by name for fear of losing his iron control that made him such a good soldier.

“Unknown,” the general admitted. “We have some patrols that were caught outside the valley when the Vong attacked. Some of them are regrouping at a rendezvous point about eight kilometers from the crash site for imminent evacuation. There’s plenty of Vong activity in the area, but a recovery operation isn’t out of the question. I was going to order a detachment from that group to investigate, but I figured you’d want to be there.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Bryndar replied.

“I understand,” General Rayven said. “If Mischa was in the YG, I’d do the same thing. You can take any members of your squad who wish to go. Terrain is too rough to land a shuttle, so we’ll have to air-drop you near the crash site. If she’s alive, get her to the rendezvous point with the others.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bryndar answered, having difficulty speaking from the lump that had materialized in his throat at the thought of Jasika injured or worse.

“We save the lives that we can without risking our existence,” the general told him, reciting a credo of the Yanibar Guard. “I just hope this is one that still can be saved.”

Bryndar had no reply for that, so he simply left, donning his helmet and heading towards where the rest of Cresh Squad was gathered.


 * Bloodthirster

“Well, what do you know?” Zeyn told Ryion sardonically. “It was a trap after all!”

Ryion glared daggers at Zeyn.

“Clearly you saying that helped us a lot,” he replied, his voice dripping with weary sarcasm.

“I am extremely disappointed in us,” Zeyn answered disapprovingly as both were firmly rooted in place by the blorash jelly.

“Now, this is the last time I shall say this. Lay down your weapons or I will start killing the captives,” Tsaruuk called at them.

“All right, all right,” Ryion replied. “This might take a little bit.”

“Then the prisoners die,” Tsaruuk answered firmly.

“We understand,” Ryion said, tossing his lightsaber just out of reach of the blorash jelly.

Zeyn followed suit, and the lightsabers were joined by their blaster carbines, silenced S-5XS pistols, Ryion’s discblades, Zeyn’s vibroblade, and the spare blaster pistols they were carrying.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” Ryion said. “But your yorik coral. . . it’s fundamentally similar to a living rock, right?”

“Your words are heresy, Jeedai! Cease your foolish prattle,” Tsaruuk replied.

“Okay, but you should know this one thing, Commander,” Ryion warned him. “There’s a seismic charge in the depths of your ship and it works exceptionally well against things that are basically. . . rocks.”

“What?” Tsaruuk demanded.

“A little custom job,” Zeyn explained. “We hitched it onto a surveillance droid frame, then wired in an active camouflage system to make it invisible. It just floated its way on repulsorlifts down through your ship as your warriors opened various hatches to funnel us toward this location.”

“And before you think about it, if either of us dies, the charge explodes,” Ryion warned him. “We all get to die together if that happens.”

“So perhaps you should be the ones laying down your weapons?” Zeyn offered.

“Very clever, Jeedai, very cunning indeed, using your blasphemous machines to try and threaten me,” Tsaruuk answered venomously. “But if you were simply here to destroy this ship along with yourselves, you would have done it already.”

Tsaruuk gave some kind of nonverbal command and the warriors drove their amphistaffs into the five prisoners. A series of grunts and groans emerged and some of the dying individuals spasmed wildly as their blood spilled out on the floor. Ryion and Zeyn stood in shock, aghast at the callous murdering of the helpless prisoners they had just witnessed.

“I will never give you these prisoners,” Tsaruuk told them. “You will disarm your device, or I will continue killing prisoners until you do. And the next ones will die very slowly.”

Ryion’s jaw was clenched tightly as he struggled to control the outrage welling up within him. His and Zeyn’s backup plan in case they were captured had counted on the Yuuzhan Vong being coerced by the threat of losing their largest vessel and surrendering the prisoners. This Tsaruuk was evidently more ruthless than they thought.

“Even now my warriors are searching for your infidel machine,” Tsaruuk informed them. “If you wish to try and destroy this vessel, do your worst, or else disarm the device before I start carving up your friends.”

Zeyn glanced at Ryion, a troubled look on his face. They had been completely out-thought by the Yuuzhan Vong. While they had always intended on deploying the seismic charge inside the Yuuzhan Vong ship, their plan had been to use it after escaping with the prisoners. Tsaruuk was evidently not about to let that happen. Zeyn was unsure what Ryion would do—they hadn’t come here on a suicide mission, but if that was the only other choice besides a pointless, torturous death, would his cousin take it? Zeyn knew Ryion could not repeat his trick with the Force storm again; he would most likely kill the prisoners as well. What would Ryion do?

“There was no need for that,” Ryion ground out slowly.

“Your infidel weakness shows, unable to sacrifice for the greater good,” Tsaruuk scoffed. “And now my warriors have found your device.”

Ryion’s heart sank. The seismic charge was programmed to set off explosives if detected, but not to actually detonate the entire seismic charge in case Ryion and Zeyn still had a chance of freeing the prisoners. The only way the charge could be activated was by a command sent via Ryion’s or Zeyn’s wrist computers, and now it had exploded, doing a fraction of its potential destruction. Seeing Ryion so unnerved at the unanticipated setback, Zeyn tried to maintain a bold front.

“I hope you didn’t mind sacrificing those warriors,” Zeyn replied. “How many of them just threw their lives away?”

“Far fewer than would have been lost if your weapon had been the threat you said it was,” Tsaruuk replied. “Either you think our ships are flimsy or your device failed to produce its full yield. Let this be your final lesson in war, Jeedai&mdash;never make a threat you don’t intend to keep.”

Tsaruuk let that sink in for a moment and then waved his warriors forward.

“Take them.”

Zeyn looked at Ryion again, but his cousin was completely defeated and disheartened, his shoulders slumped in weary resignation of their loss. A spark of defiance burned on in Zeyn, and he prepared to arm the thermal detonator he’d had tucked away. The Vong would not get him without a fight. Maybe Ryion would then use his in the act of ultimate self-sacrifice, destroying both the two would-be rescuers and the prisoners to avoid the prospective of hours of torture and interrogation that Tsaruuk no doubt had in mind for them.

Then, just as Zeyn prepared to telekinetically arm and fling the detonator as the warriors approached, something abruptly snatched it from his mental grasp. He turned in surprise just as the report of a heavy blaster barked uncomfortably close to his ear and an orange bolt smashed into the villips by Tsaruuk. The detonator, along with Ryion’s, exploded among groups of Yuuzhan Vong warriors as four flares from Ryion and Zeyn’s stockpiles flipped out of their bandoleers as if by their own accord to ignite, blinding the Yuuzhan Vong. Zeyn quickly shut his eyes and pulled down his goggles even as he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting and several more blaster shots.

When Ryion and Zeyn finally secured their goggles, they saw a tall human standing in front of them, a lit green-bladed lightsaber in one hand and a heavy blaster pistol in the other hand, blazing away at the Yuuzhan Vong protecting the weapons.

“Well, are you two going to stand there all day, or you going to pick up your weapons and help?” Kyle Katarn demanded.

Zeyn and Ryion called their lightsabers back to their hands and were immediately lit, ready to defend against thrown missiles once the Yuuzhan Vong recovered from the blinding illumination of the flares.

“Love to help, but we’re kind of stuck here,” Ryion pointed out.

“Think again, kid. I know you probably learned ‘try not’ somewhere, but humor me, just this once,” Kyle told them as he fired his blaster one last time, then holstered the weapon to take up a two-handed grip on the lightsaber.

Ryion attempted to move his legs and found that the blorash jelly had dissolved away.

“Stay out of the rest of it, but I sprinkled arsensalts on the part around your feet,” Kyle said while he lunged forward to swing his lightsaber at an approaching Yuuzhan Vong warrior.

Ryion and Zeyn, now free to fight, leaped forward.

“Bring them down!” Tsaruuk bellowed from the rear.

His fifteen remaining warriors attempted to comply, but now faced with three skilled opponents who were careful to avoid hurled blobs of blorash jelly. Nearly half their number had already been destroyed by Kyle’s detonators and blaster shots and the advantage of the brilliant flares blinding the Yuuzhan Vong gave the Jedi an edge. After several minutes of furious combat, all the warriors were felled, though Tsaruuk had disappeared into the shadows.

“One of you help me free the prisoners,” Kyle ordered.

“I’ll do it,” Zeyn said, stepping forward to accept a packet of arsensalts from Kyle.

“Did we get the Vong leader?” Ryion asked.

“No, he got away,” Kyle replied.

“I’m going after him,” Ryion said. “Can’t let him get a warning off.”

Ryion raced after Tsaruuk, lightsaber lit and ready while Kyle looked on disapprovingly.

“I hope he doesn’t get himself killed doing that,” the older Jedi commented as he ungagged one of the prisoners.

Zeyn rolled his eyes and focused his efforts on applying the arsensalts to the blorash jelly binding the captives. He had just freed the first two prisoners when he heard a muffled moan from overhead. Something dripped on his head and he directed his gaze upward.

“Kriff!” Zeyn swore.

There was a woman suspended from the ceiling, wrapped in the tendrils of a horrific Yuuzhan Vong creature. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds and she was evidently semiconscious, too agonized to even vocalize her sufferings beyond an inarticulate moan.

“That’s Captain Tar-sonis,” one of the prisoners told him hoarsely. “The Vong picked on her to get us. . . get us to talk.”

“Help me get her down,” Zeyn said firmly to Kyle.

“Careful, kid, that’s an Embrace of Pain,” Kyle warned him. “If you try and pull her out of it, you could kill her.”

“Understood,” Zeyn replied. “Give me a boost.”

The freed prisoners were too weak to help, so Kyle floated Zeyn up towards the ceiling with the Force. A few slashes of lightsaber later and he had cut the Embrace of Pain and its tormented victim down from the living ceiling. Kyle lowered them both gently with telekinesis and Zeyn quickly freed the hapless captain from the now lifeless torture creature.

“She’s still alive,” Zeyn said, rolling her over and reaching for his medkit. “I’ll see to her and the other wounded if you free the other prisoners.”

“On it,” Kyle Katarn answered.

Zeyn felt bile rise in him as he saw how Tsaruuk had disfigured her. Both of her arms had been wrenched clean out of the sockets and judging from the way her legs were laying, they had been as well. Both her hands and feet had been slashed and stabbed repeatedly and while the bleeding around those wounds had mostly coagulated, there were numerous other lacerations evident on her body that had yet to be sealed. However, Zeyn found that the worst part though was looking at her face. The Yuuzhan Vong had completely torn one of her eyes out of its socket, a sight that made Zeyn shudder even as he applied a bacta bandage to the gruesome wound.

“Are there any other prisoners?” Kyle asked one of the others.

“No, they kept us all together,” one of the others, evidently a sergeant in the Yanibar Guard Army judging by the rank tabs on his tattered uniform responded.

“So how did you get in here anyway?” Zeyn asked Kyle. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but we weren’t exactly expecting you.”

“You can thank your superior for that one,” Kyle replied. “He figured you and your friend there would try something like this.”

“How did you get in on it?” Zeyn inquired.

Kyle flashed him a knowing smile.

“I figured you would do something like this, too. Maybe it was a feeling in the Force, or just instinct, I dunno,” he answered. “When I approached him about it, he wanted to know if I had any ideas.”

The Jedi shrugged.

“I volunteered to go with you, keep an eye on you two for when you got into trouble. He knew you’d notice if he was missing from the actual fleet, so he accepted my offer and taught me this incredible Force camouflage skill in return.”

“You learned how to do that in a week?” Zeyn asked incredulously.

“Quick study,” Kyle replied flippantly.

There was a pause as Zeyn tried to find the appropriate words to express his thoughts.

“You must think we’re stupid for breaking into the Vong ship like this.”

“There’ll be time for passing judgment later,” Kyle replied. “And I’m not sure I’m the one to pass it. Besides, we still have to get out of here first, and don’t think that’s going to be easy.”

The reminder effectively silenced Zeyn as he concentrated on treating the injured.

“All right, I’ve got them all free,” Kyle informed Zeyn several minutes later while Zeyn was still applying first aid to the many wounded prisoners.

The Yuuzhan Vong had staunched any serious bleeding, but many of the prisoners had torn ligaments or broken bones that Zeyn had to at least minimally treat before they could be ambulatory.

“Almost done,” Zeyn replied as he splinted a broken leg. “Divvy up the spare weapons, but leave me my carbine and vibroblade.”

“We need to get moving soon,” Kyle reminded him. “The Vong aren’t going to sit around forever. Getting this many prisoners back to the shuttle is going to be a challenge as it is.”

“What about Ryion?” Zeyn asked. “He’s still out there.”

“He chose his own path,” Kyle said. “We can’t afford to wait.”

Zeyn clenched his fist and bit back a harsh reply, knowing the elder Jedi was right but nonetheless furious at the cold hard truth he was expressing. Somewhere in the bowels of his ship, Ryion was battling to get them more time and here he was, unable to help. Zeyn shook his head to clear his mind. The best thing he could do to help Ryion was to follow the plan and evacuate the prisoners. Bending down, he gently scooped up the prone Captain Tar-sonis while Kyle organized the few armed prisoners into a loosely defensive formation. He did not relish having to carry such a burden when he was one of two Force-users in the group, and also not injured or half-starved or sleep-deprived, but somebody had to carry her. Their defense would have to make do.

“Are you ready to go home, Captain?” Zeyn asked the semi-conscious woman reassuringly as he cradled her.

“Her name is Ashli,” one of the other freed prisoners spoke up. “We worked together. I can take her if you’d rather guard us.”

Zeyn gave the Duros who had spoken up an appraising look. He was as haggard as the others, but something in his face bespoke resilience. Zeyn nodded and handed over the injured officer.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I’ll take the lead, you watch our backs and we’ll head for the shuttle,” Kyle told Zeyn.

“I’m not sure how we’re going to actually escape the ship,” Zeyn said. “Our plan was to threaten the Yuuzhan Vong with utter destruction by seismic charge if they didn’t let us escape.”

“Good thinking,” Kyle answered sardonically. “We’ll deal with that if we get that far. Now let’s move.”

Lightsaber ready, he led the tattered column of freed prisoners towards the ruined hatch sphincter by which Zeyn and Ryion had entered.


 * Rishi orbit

Selu watched as the marauding Yuuzhan Vong ships closed in on his beleaguered fleet, their plasma weapons slamming into shields repeatedly and burning through hull once those defenses were exhausted. The Fleet Defenders’ complement of point-defense drones were almost all destroyed, hunted down by aggressive coralskipper squadrons. He saw the Niman-class cruiser-carrier An’ya Kuro take heavy damage, wracked by explosions that tore through one of its wings. Another cruiser-carrier, the Ki-Adi-Mundi was drifting, venting plasma and atmosphere, its weapons and engines offline, with only a few lights still visible. And then finally, he knew it was time to act. The Yuuzhan Vong, having sensed that they were on the verge of gutting his force, had drawn their formation close around his ships.

“Activate the yammosk jammer,” Selu ordered.

The devices, one of the numerous anti-Yuuzhan Vong tools developed by the New Republic, had been one of the things Selu had acquired from the New Republic’s Borleias garrison. Danni Quee had provided the schematics and his engineers had raced to construct a working jammer and while they had succeeded, their device possessed a shorter effective range than the New Republic data had indicated due to its rushed construction. However, the gravitic waves it emitted interfered with the telepathic Yuuzhan Vong yammosk war coordinators, disrupting the eerie synchronization that the alien invaders were used to enjoying.

In the blink of an eye, the Yuuzhan Vong formations fell apart, unable to coordinate their attacks. Coralskippers suddenly lacking a proper direction or attack vector were blown to flinders by Yanibar Guard starfighters and point-defense batteries. Larger ships began straying from their optimal firing courses, weapons spraying indiscriminately as more and more weapons fire began slipping past their dovin basals to score hits on the hulls. Now, their proximity to the Yanibar Guard Fleet was a detriment, as they could be fired upon from multiple angles that would make it difficult for the defensive dovin basals to fully shield.

“We’re ready,” Selu commed to Hasla.

“Understood,” she replied crisply. “Fleet is to move to formation Aurek Five-Six and engage targets at will. Engage gravity well generators.” Selu replaced his comlink and headed into the meditation chamber where two other Jedi were seated cross-legged, eyes closed and arms extended in a meditation position. The small room was dimly lit and bereft of furniture aside from some benches and mats. A single door was the only way in and it was normally kept closed, giving the chamber an air of solemnity and silence. Selu knelt down on a mat and joined his mind with theirs. The ancient Jedi skill of battle meditation was something he had used for many years and now he allowed himself to sink into the all-encompassing mental state again. While his battle meditation would not sap the will of Yuuzhan Vong like it would against other opponents, Selu’s use of the Force could still influence the conflict in space by buoying the courage and focus of his own personnel. In his mind’s eye, he saw the Yanibar Guard Fleet expand and advance suddenly, slicing through the abruptly disorganized Yuuzhan Vong formations. Now able to fire in all directions and coordinated by Force-users so as to concentrate their weaponry, it was the Yanibar Guard who now enjoyed near-flawless cohesion and brought the maximum number of weapons to bear on Yuuzhan Vong targets. Selu’s mind touched the mind of other Force-users employing battle meditation on the Mace Windu, the Plo Koon, and the Obi-Wan Kenobi. Together, they guided and directed and encouraged the Yanibar Guard forces while avoiding the majority of friendly fire possibilities that threatened such an aggressive and dispersed deployment. Yorik coral was slagged by dozens of turbolaser and proton torpedo impacts, either ablating as it was vaporized or shredding out into dozens of fragments. Against a coordinated Yuuzhan Vong fleet, it would have been suicide, but against a disunited force lacking a central command authority, the tactic was hideously effective. Soon, more than a score of Yuuzhan Vong ships were lifeless hulks or crippled, contributing nothing to the battle.

In their wake and to either side, the Yanibar Guard fleet dumped dozens of seismic charges as their starfighters were pulled to the front of the formation to spearhead the assault. Yuuzhan Vong ships attempting to pick on stragglers or execute flanking maneuvers found themselves awash in destructive rings of energy that pulverized the coral vessels unless fully deflected by dovin basals. However, the necessary screening to protect against that many overlapping seismic charge detonations came at the cost of reduced protection from direct fire from the Yanibar Guard ships.

The Yuuzhan Vong returned fire as best as they could, tearing apart the already-weakened Ataru-class gunship Kai Justiss, but now their efforts were not coordinated and the deflectors were better able to withstand the punishment. With the gravity well generators on the Lightbearer active, they could not maneuver as easily. If a skilled commander with access to the appropriate villips was monitoring the situation, he could have salvaged a tactical withdrawal or an appropriately Pyrrhic victory. However, Tsaruuk’s attention was otherwise occupied and that diversion would cost the remainder of his fleet and the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements sent by Tsavong Lah dearly. In less than an hour since the first Yuuzhan Vong formations had attacked the Yanibar Guard formation, half of their number had been destroyed.

Selu could see in his mind the massive primary turbolasers of the Lightbearer hulling a Yuuzhan Vong matalok. The stricken ship began drifting as a squadron of B-wings delivered a follow-up blow. Two dozen proton torpedoes shot from the cruciform starfighters and while some of them were consumed by dovin basals, eight penetrated deep into the gash that had been torn into the ship by the Lightbearer. The muffled explosion cracked the spine of the living warship and it made no further attempt to defend itself.

Finally, in the absence of Tsaruuk’s command authority, the Yuuzhan Vong ships began peeling away, one by one and then in small groups. Some coralskippers attempted to pursue futile dogfights, unable to bear the dishonor of retreat. The Yanibar Guard refused to engage in such a quixotic tactic and promptly ganged up on the desperate coralskipper pilots, using overlapping shields to protect from hostile fire and sending streams of lasers against the coralskippers from multiple directions to defeat the dovin basals. Seeing the hopelessness of the situation, some of the coralskippers attempted to ram the Yanibar Guard capital ships, and while the tactic crippled another Ataru-class gunship,the Sar Labooda, the StarfirePD laser batteries proved hideously effective, as a coralskipper attempting to plunge itself at high speed into a warship was less able to defend itself since its dovin basal needed to be used primarily for propulsion instead of defense. Three Yuuzhan Vong frigates interposed themselves between the remainder of the fleeing force and the Yanibar Guard Fleet, hurling magma missiles and grutchins at the Yanibar Guard ships with reckless abandon. While they were swiftly bombarded until all that remained were charred and glowing lumps that resembled giant embers, the delay in avoiding collision with them afforded the rest of the Yuuzhan Vong force to escape.

Selu breathed a huge sigh of relief as the Yuuzhan Vong abandoned a lost battle. No doubt some of them were still perplexed as to how the seemingly trapped and surrounded Yanibar Guard had suddenly disrupted and destroyed the bulk of their force. He rose to his feet, drenched in sweat from the mental strain of maintaining the battle meditation across such a large battlespace, and left the room. The other Force-users could handle the mental coordination needed to conclude the battle.

“They’re falling back,” Hasla reported to him unnecessarily as he entered the bridge. “Looks like they are moving along the planet to screen withdrawal of their ground forces. Should we pursue?”

Selu considered her suggestion carefully. The Yuuzhan Vong were clearly attempting a withdrawal. Their ships made no attempt to attack the Yanibar Guard Army base and even if they did, Selu was confident that the shield generator that had been erected could defend the base and surrounding refugee camps from several hours of bombardment. Moreover, if the Yuuzhan Vong force remained much longer, they risked annihilation. Selu was about to order the pursuit, when he felt a sensation in the Force. He sensed Ryion, Zeyn, and Kyle Katarn. While he had carefully kept himself closed off from them during the heat of the space battle, Selu had allowed his awareness to expand again, bringing an urgent mental summons from Zeyn.

''We got the prisoners, Uncle. Can you get us a way out? We need help soon!''

Selu heard Zeyn’s voice resonate inside his head as clearly as if his nephew had been standing adjacent to him. The choice had been given to him—he could pursue the Yuuzhan Vong force they had already defeated and destroy the remainder of the force, along with any ground troops, or he could opt for a less sweeping victory in favor of extracting Ryion, Zeyn, and Kyle Katarn. Selu knew that thousands of Yuuzhan Vong would likely escape if broke off the pursuit, along with twenty warships. More Yuuzhan Vong could be pulled from the surface, or they could simply choose to attack other cities and refugee camps on Rishi in lieu of fleeing from the Yanibar Guard Fleet. Thousands of lives hung in the balance, depending on his decision.

“Your orders, sir?” Hasla prompted him.

Selu stood stolidly for several more seconds, his brow furrowed and eyes closed. He tuned out the incessant chatter of the bridge and the beeps and chirps of computers from his hearing, blocking out all his senses as he probed the Force for guidance, but its counsel was not immediately forthcoming. Selu wished he had Milya’s gift of foresight, but there was no point in continuing further. He was wasting time. Opening his eyes, he strode forward and tapped in a set of coordinates onto the tactical holoboard, his countenance betraying none of the anxiety coursing through him. “Prepare to move to these coordinates,” Selu said grimly. “This isn’t over yet.”