Force Exile V: Warrior/Part 8

16
Rain poured down in the dank alley as the killer left the scene of the crime, another in a long string of victims he had claimed already. The dark, foul alley was narrow and littered with detritus, affording plenty of cover for a safe getaway. The belated response by the authorities to the heinous act had once again been insufficient to stop this particular felon.

They called him the Minddrinker. Furtive and stealthy, he prowled the streets of the offworld enclave on Thisspias, seeking his prey. Tonight, fate had been kind to him. She had been a young and strong Twi’lek, filled with vigor. The Minddrinker licked his lips, remembering her tantalizing taste.

A distant shout sounded in the alleyway behind him, reminding him that he was not safe yet. The Twi’lek had struggled, getting off one desperate cry before he had consumed her. The approaching individuals, whether civilians or authorities, were too far off to ensnare him. He was a creature of the night. The shadows were his friends, wrapping around him like the long jacket he wore to ward off the rain, concealing him from searching eyes. Taking a swig of a bottle filled with liquid stimulants and other ingredients blended into a potent concoction, he redoubled his pace, slipping off into the dark night.

An hour later, soaked but victorious, the Minddrinker entered his lair, a small shack built alongside an abandoned warehouse in one of the most rundown parts of the city, a sizable room littered with industrial debris that he had no use or concern for. A single flickering cyan glowpanel illuminated the shelves he had lined most of the lair with, filled with the potions and elixirs he unleashed on his victims before killing them. Slipping inside, he sealed the door behind him, but kept his waterlogged jacket on, oblivious to its drenched state. A self-admitted organizer, the Minddrinker carefully replaced the three canisters he had used tonight neatly on the shelves, placing labels on them to indicate that they were partially depleted. In two months of his predations, the authorities had yet to figure out his true identity, or even his true nature due to the chemicals he used, which disguised the distinctive wounds left by his preferred methods of killing.

It was a shame, the Minddrinker reflected, that most Anzati did not use such mind-affecting agents on their victims before they fed on them. It was amazing how the flavor of a sentient’s mind could change when exposed to the proper hallucinogens or intoxicants. The Twi’lek he had fed upon had been thoroughly. . . enhanced by the psychotropic agents injected into her bloodstream, a delicacy that any Anzati would have been proud to consume. Perhaps that was his burden to bear, the knowledge of such intriguing ways to improve the minds that were to be consumed, just as it was the burden of the Anzati to constantly hide their true nature because of the animosity stirred in other sentient species upon learning of the Anzati’s desire—no, it was a need—to feed upon sentient brains, to drink their soup and absorb their life essence.

The Minddrinker himself had earned a degree of contempt even for the typically solitary Anzati, both for his chemical marinating of his prey and for his insatiable hunger that led him to feed more often than most other Anzati. Thus far, he had fed every day he had been on Thisspias, injecting his victims with a different cocktail of chemicals each time to sample the different flavors that it was possible to imbue upon a sentient mind. He allowed his feeding proboscises to uncoil from their cheek pouches, licking off the lingering blood and brain tissue from them. Though he had just fed, he was already thinking ahead to the next meal. His hunger was ravenous, his greed to constantly seek out and devour new and intriguing minds all but compulsive. His rapacious tastes had already driven him from three dozen worlds and he intended to drink deeply of the minds on this one before he left. Perhaps next time he would seek out a child, one filled with promise and youth, and drink its life force as well. He would need a special blend, one made with care and delicacy to achieve the right flavor on the mind he would consume without prematurely spoiling it. The Anzati contemplated this matter, idly plucking a selection of cylinders from his collection for possible use.

“You really don’t have any remorse for what you’ve done, do you?” a voice issued from the darkness behind him.

He whirled in surprise, but there was nobody to be seen. Anzati senses were keener than those of humans or other similar species, but again, the Minddrinker sensed nothing. For once, he was the one surprised. His hands slipped behind him, grabbing several canisters of mind-altering chemicals that would scramble the brain of whoever this intruder was. To distract from his actions, he decided to trade verbal jabs.

“Does a predator feel remorse for hunting and consuming its prey?” he sneered.

“Their lives are nothing to you, then?” the same hard-edged voice, most likely female called to him from the darkness.

“Their lives, no. Their minds are what I seek. Now, I will seek your mind and consume it, to learn what led you to stalk a predator in his lair.”

He caught a brief hint of the intruder’s sense. She was powerful, filled with emotion and passion, exuding a presence that brimmed with vigor, and yet had managed to conceal it from him until now. It was tantalizing to him, despite having just fed and satiated his appetite, but now, this new intruder’s sense called to him. He would have her, would hold her in his arms, and then would consume her life force, her soup. His proboscises twitched in anticipation. Perhaps he would leave her to marinate her mind in a special blend of chemicals for a full day, if he could restrain himself that long.

“I smell you, my sweet,” he breathed. “Come out where I can see you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

A datapad that the Minddrinker used to monitor the communications of law enforcement shot out from the darkness to slam into his stomach, driving the air from his lungs and doubling him over. He staggered back, but quickly regained his composure, injecting himself with powerful blend of stimulants to enhance his already-considerable physical prowess. Raw aggression and animal fury seethed through his body, empowering his muscles and senses beyond their normal capabilities. He would find her, would use his mental talents to subdue her mind, and then she would be his. This single-minded drive consumed the Anzati just as he did his prey. He stalked around in his lair, looking for the elusive intruder, when a storage cylinder came sliding across the room, aimed at sweeping his feet out from under him. The Minddrinker shoulder-rolled over it, coming up on one knee only to have a metal pole bash his face. He gasped and lashed out with a knife he had kept concealed up one sleeve, but his blind stroke met nothing but air. The enraged Anzati leapt to his feet, seeking his prey as he lunged this way and that.

“How does it feel, to be trapped and baited like you have done to so many others?” the voice mocked him from the shadows.

The Minddrinker had no reply other than an angry growl. He was losing control of his rational mind, a dangerous state for any Anzati, and had no desire for anything than consuming the brain of his intruder.

“Show yourself!” he bellowed.

A broken glowpanel smashed into his back and shattered, sending him staggering forward again, but he batted it away. A depleted power pack shot up from the floor to slam into his groin even as bolts, scrap, and other debris was hurled into him by some invisible Force, apparently directed by his unseen assailant. They wore away at his strength even as he fought back impotently. Finally, the Minddrinker felt himself be picked up bodily in an invisible grip and hurled back into his wall of shelves, sending chemical cylinders flying off of the shelves to clatter and roll on the floor, ruining his perfect arrangements.

Even as he struggled to pick his winded and wounded body off the floor, the Minddrinker finally saw her emerge from the shadows. She was small, a blue-skinned Wroonian with golden eyes, staring malevolently at him as she stepped into the area illuminated by the flickering glowlamp. She had made a mistake though, getting this close to him. His Anzati mental powers, stamina, and physical prowess would allow the Minddrinker to overpower her easily.

“Your will is mine,” he snarled at her, directing his natural Anzati mental powers, augmented by the stimulants, at the woman’s mind, seeking to bend her.

However, his mental approaches met solid barriers which immediately rebuffed them. For once, the Minddrinker was at a loss. Never had he been unable to subdue the will of another sentient when he desired to do so.

“Your life is mine,” she said.

The Wroonian woman extended a hand in his direction, sending blue lightning bolts arcing out from her fingers into the Anzati assassin. He writhed as the energy consumed him, jolting his nerves and sending painful energy discharges racing along his body.

“How does it feel to be helpless?” she taunted him as she shocked him again. “How does it feel to be in the hands of someone truly remorseless?”

The Anzati could make no reply while wracked by Force lightning, but eventually she relented.

“Who. . . are. . . you?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” she shot back. “You only care for my mind, not who I am.”

Seizing control of his twitching limbs, the Anzati staggered to his feet, striking out at her with his short-bladed knife. She sidestepped his first attack, only for him to lunge towards with a stabbing stroke. There was a flash of light, and then suddenly a searing sensation. The horrified Anzati looked down to see his right hand sliced in half at the knuckles, leaving him with only a thumb and a burned stub. The Wroonian stared at him maliciously, a lit lightsaber held in her hand.

“Jedi,” he spat. “Kill me now and get it over with.”

She smiled at him, a smile bereft of any mirth.

“That would be far too easy,” she said.

A series of canisters flew from his collection into her hand after a simple gesture. She Force-shoved him back into the shelves again, using another bolt of Force lightning to scramble his nerves. Then, collecting several canisters from his collection, she injected them into the Anzati. His eyes quickly glassed over as he fought to keep from succumbing to the influence of the chemicals, but she wasn’t done. Picking up the knife he had lost when she had severed most of his hand, the Wroonian sliced off his proboscises, eliciting screams of pain from the mutilated Anzati. She then stuffed them into his nose, pouring a gel adhesive into his nasal cavity to hold them in place.

“What. . . what are. . . you doing. . ?” he managed even as his mind whirled from the chemical-induced hallucinations and delirium.

“You are going to face justice,” she said.


 * Three hours later

Ariada watched from the alley as law enforcement vehicles descended on the glowpost where she had left the Minddrinker hanging by his arms from a chain connected to the post. No doubt he was more or less recovered from the effects of the chemicals, owing to Anzati resilience, but there was no way he could possibly resist the myriad law enforcement agents surrounding him. He would be sedated, tried, and hopefully executed as quickly as possible, ending his murderous killing spree. Moreover, her dealing with him would hopefully open up new avenues for her on Thisspias.

“Should you not have killed him yourself and executed true justice?” hissed a sibilant voice behind her.

She jumped. While she had been hoping for this sort of reaction, she had expected to have a little more advance warning. Ariada whirled around, her hand reaching for the lightsaber tucked into her belt. Standing behind her, lurking in the shadows, were three people she definitely had not seen or sensed behind her five seconds earlier. She could do both now, though not very well. One thing she immediately perceived was that all three of them were strong with the dark side of the Force. Her hidden objective had been achieved. Recomposing herself, she relaxed her hand and faced them.

“So you did notice,” she remarked. “I was hoping you would.”

“When someone makes an entrance like you just did, it would be impolite to not make an introduction,” came the reply.

“What about standing in the shadows where I can’t see you? How’s that for impolite?” she challenged.

“That depends on why you sought us out. Doing so takes quite a bit of daring, young lady.”

“I was told to seek you out by someone I believe you are familiar with,” she said, a little uncertainly.

“And who might that be?” came the sibilant reply.

“A Gotal named Psykith on Naboo.”

“If he sent you to us, where is he? We have not been told of your arrival, nor do we have any reason to believe you.”

Ariada swallowed hard before continuing, knowing that her next words would either vindicate or damn her. There was no point lying, though—the people around her likely knew or could infer much of Psykith’s recent fate.

“He’s dead. I killed him myself.”

“And now you’re coming after us?” came the reply, but with the tone of a challenge, laced with a hint of mockery.

“To join you,” Ariada explained. “Psykith advised me to seek you.”

“Of course.”

There was an undercurrent of suspicion and sarcasm in the response and Ariada was afraid they were going to kill her or reject her outright. She could not sense their emotions, and had to focus a considerable amount of mental effort into maintaining her own mental screens to prevent the probes from the shadowy figures from seeing through her mind.

“Psykith believed those that wield power should use it in accordance with their judgment,” she said. “I believe that too. That is why I’ve come looking for you—to find others who wish to use their power to shape events for the better.”

“An interesting tale, but hardly a convincing one. Moreover, you have yet to give us a compelling reason to let you live, much less trust you.”

Ariada shifted her weight nervously, knowing that if these were the Dark Jedi associates Psykith had spoken of, then their threat was definitely not empty. She had to convince them.

“Aside from Psykith’s endorsement, I’m willing to prove that I’m like-minded with you and in possession of considerable ability.”

“Psykith is dead and cannot vouch for you.”

“Are you implying that I would lie about that to your face and you not be able to detect it? And if I defeated Psykith, that vouches for my capabilities.”

An amused chuckle issued from one of the figures.

“Indeed. You intrigue us, girl. What is your name?”

“Ariada.”

“And you had the audacity to seek us out after killing an associate of ours?”

“I’ve had a change of heart since then. Consider me his replacement.”

“That assumes we decide to both let you live and trust you.”

Ariada considered her next words carefully, knowing what she was potentially committing herself to.

“I’m willing to prove my sincerity.”

“Oh are you?” the voice asked evilly.

“Yes,” she said uncertainly.

They were silent for a moment, then their spokesman gave his reply.

“Disarm yourself and then come with us. We are willing to give you a chance. For now.”

Ariada complied reluctantly, surrendering her lightsaber, vibroblade, and blaster, tossing them onto the crumbling tile of the alley. They telekinetically flew over to her interrogators before landing—verification that these were the Dark Jedi she sought.

“Be forewarned, Ariada. These tests will not be as simple as capturing a greedy, careless Anzati and stringing him up for the authorities to find. If you are to join us, you must be one of us. And should you fail, the results will be most. . . fatal.”

With that solemn warning, the three silhouettes turned to leave, beckoning her to follow. This was it—her last chance to turn back. However, she had come this far and her resolve had not abated. If she was to use her Force-powers to stop the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, she would need resources, resources that these Dark Jedi could provide. Knowing that the Yanibar Guard would never accept her again and that her philosophies would similarly conflict with those of the Jedi Order, there was little other recourse for her if she sought to pursue her convictions. And she did, more than anything else in the galaxy. She had already made countless sacrifices and performed deeds she otherwise would never have done for the sake of her cause. This was the next logical step, the only logical step. Silently, she followed them down the alley.

They led her to a mansion at the edge of town, a tall, dark building that loomed over the group. In the murky darkness of midnight, the building appeared to be constructed of some material similar to obsidian, with a refined elegant sleekness in its gleaming black architecture. Apparently this group had a taste for aristocracy.

She entered the building and was promptly escorted to a small windowless, featureless room barely illuminated by recessed green glowpanels. With little else to do, she sat herself cross-legged on the floor and soon sank deep into a refreshing meditation routine. The feeling of unrestrained access to the Force, after weeks of captivity in the Force-blind prison, was still like a draught of cool water in the midst of a scorching desert and she luxuriated herself in the feeling of its powerful currents flowing through her freely once more.

Ariada wasn’t sure how many hours had passed before she sensed someone approach. Rising, she faced the door as it opened to reveal the three Dark Jedi she had met earlier.

“Your first test is ready,” intoned one of them, a powerful-looking Thisspiassian. “Come with us.”

Ariada mutely followed them down the main hallway, a broad corridor with an arching ceiling and with walls, floor, and ceiling constructed of the same gleaming highly-polished black stone. The lighting tended towards the pale green, giving the dwelling a dark, eerie ambience—no doubt a desired effect. She wasn’t sure where they were going or what they had in mind, but tried to keep her mind a metaphorical blank holo to allay mental probes while not giving the impression of being totally impossible to read. Mid-stride, the Thisspiassian suddenly whirled to face her.

“Have you prepared yourself for this?” the reptilian alien asked.

She nodded slowly, just as the floor gave out from under her, plunging her into pitch-black darkness. Ariada hadn’t sensed the danger beforehand and fell freely. She started to use the Force to slow her, only to have her descent suddenly arrested as she splashed into a tank full of a clear viscous liquid. The top sealed over her head and she just barely managed to catch a quick breath before being totally submerged. She estimated there was just enough clearance at the top of the tank for her to surface and breathe when needed and there was little evident danger. The cloying taste of traces of the liquid she’d accidentally caught in her mouth told her it was bacta—a surprising choice of confinement given its healing properties. She looked through the clear walls of the tank to see the three Dark Jedi staring at her. One of them, a tall gaunt human, picked up a comlink of some kind and began speaking into it; his words were then relayed through an audio pickup mounted on the inside of the tank.

“For your first test, we must measure your willingness to act to preserve your own interests, even at the cost of others. Remember, Ariada, that you must protect yourself first—for only you can bring about the desired change to the galaxy.”

He gave her a wicked grin.

“You have probably noticed by now that you are floating in a bacta tank. This one has been specially modified to include the audio pickups you are listening to as well as a large button. This button is the subject of our first test.”

He gestured and stepped aside to reveal a human male floating in another bacta tank behind him, except that there was no audio pickup, button, and the man was wearing a standard rebreather. Ariada kicked her way up to the top of the tank to speak.

“Who is that?”

“That is not important. He is an innocent, a civilian in terms of any conflict we might ever find ourselves entangled within. But tonight, one of you will die, and you will be the one who chooses which of you perishes.”

The Dark Jedi held up a control and activated it. Suddenly, electricity began to surge into the bacta tank, electrocuting Ariada. White fire danced along her body as the discharges popped and seared her flesh and the tissues underneath. She screamed aloud and convulsed as the electric tendrils scrambled her nerves and burned her. The Dark Jedi let her thrash and writhe in agony for thirty seconds before relenting. She only barely managed to breathe before her twitching limbs could no longer keep her head above the surface and she sank into the bacta.

“The next time, I will activate this control and leave it on for twice as long. You will be electrocuted slowly, and then I will let the bacta heal you for a few minutes, and then I will double the duration again. I will do this until you die, and it will not be a fast death. There is only one choice for survival—you must push the button. When you do, it will trip a circuit that shunts the electricity into the other tank.” He held up the control again, preparing to activate it. Ariada tried to summon the Force and wrest it from him, but her mind was still whirling from the violent shocking she had received and her motor control was fuzzy at best, to say nothing of her mental control. The Dark Jedi smiled and enabled the device, once more pouring electricity into the tank she was contained in.

The bacta bubbled around her as the electricity coursed through her body. Ariada spasmed involuntarily as the electricity shot down her nerves, overriding any other commands her mind might have given. The pain was unbearable and she felt that she would explode if subjected to the electrocution much longer. Finally, it subsided, leaving her totally exhausted, with throbbing agony lingering in her tortured body.

“That was one minute,” he said. “If it gets up to five, I’m not quite sure what it will do to you. All of my previous subjects have expired between three and four minutes.”

Ariada drifted in limp helplessness, body convulsing uncontrollably from the electricity.

“There is no point in being selfless if it will only result in greater net loss,” the Thisspiassian told her just as the electricity started up again.

This time, Ariada could feel it coursing through her body with redoubled intensity. Her head was filled with visions of scarlet, green, and turquoise starbursts as the electricity surged into her head, mouth, and eyes. The electrocution continued for a full two minutes and then finally ceased. Ariada felt her pulse weakly and found it erratic, unstable and weak, a symptom of arrhythmia. If this persisted much longer, her heart might burst, or might stop beating altogether.

“If you hope for mercy, or to impress me by your strength, you hope in vain. There is no hope, Ariada. Only a choice between deaths.”

She gritted her teeth and tried to force herself to endure. It was against her convictions altogether to subject another person to such abject torture, but at the same time, she knew herself well enough to know that she could not continue to suffer such grievous wounds. She must either perish or accept that she would have to perpetrate an utterly immoral act for the sake of pursuing higher goals—as well as her own survival. Yanibar had always taught selflessness as one of the highest ends for a Force-user, and here she was being asked to repudiate that in a repulsive manner, a manner which would lead her to have the blood of an innocent on her hands. While she wrestled with the hideous notion of voluntarily torturing another sentient to death, the Dark Jedi commenced his sadistic exercise again, plunging her mind into a frenzied hell of raw suffering.

As the electricity coursed through her veins, she tried to find strength in the Force, but wracked by such powerful jolts of energy, Ariada could no more summon it to protect her than hurl a moon from orbit. Ariada thrashed around weakly, helpless in the throes of the torture. She felt a bolt burst out through one of her toes, splitting it in a bloody cloud. Finally, the torturous pulses of electricity stopped just as she felt her heart was about to explode.

In her weakened state, it took major effort to pull herself to the top of the tank and gasp for breath. She could barely move from the crippling shocks and knew she was close to death. The healing properties of the bacta could only sustain her for so long before she succumbed to the electricity.

“Impressive. You have survived six and a half minutes of electrocution. But you cannot survive the next round. This is your last chance, Ariada. Sometimes, we must make hard choices. A few must be sacrificed for the greater good. Embrace this. . . or die.”

He said the words with finality and she knew they were true. Blood seeped from a hundred wounds, suffusing the inside of the bacta tank with a cloudy red tint. Her scorched and burned skin hid dozens more internal injuries. The Dark Jedi took note of her continued abstinence from pressing the button and nodded solemnly.

Once more, electricity began to pour unabated into the chamber, straight up her legs and into her body. It was more intense than before, instantly perforating her battered body and taking her to the brink of a painful death.

Somewhere, in the trackless mist of her consciousness that was not affected by the searing electricity, a cold realization spoke to Ariada. It was a calculated logic, emotionless and devoid of sentimentality. And it told her that she was going to die and that she had no other choice but to press that button if she wanted to live. It told her that her life goals, her desire to see justice brought to the galaxy and the atrocities of the Yuuzhan Vong stopped, would never be accomplished if she died a meaningless death in this torture tank. It told her that even as the tenuous threads of her life snapped one by one in the excruciating torment, that she would have to commit a lesser evil in order to stop a greater one. Its whisper promised of eventual justice on the true perpetrators of the crime, the one who had forced her into this decision, but only if she survived. After being subjected to such unspeakable suffering, Ariada could no longer ignore that voice.

She could bear it no longer. With an inaudible cry that caused her to swallow a large gulp of blood-laced bacta, Ariada reached out with the last vestiges of her strength and kicked the button. And then, mercifully, the pain subsided. And yet, she heard a sound she dreaded to hear—the agonized screaming of the man she had just subjected to the same punishment. She listened to it for three and a half minutes before it finally wound down to a hoarse gasping, then a gurgle, then nothing. She had just killed a man for the sake of her own life—the antithesis of the most fundamental precepts of the Yanibar Guard, threads she had held dear even in her exile.

Revolted by what she had just done, she vomited. In the filthy remnants of the bacta, she couldn’t tell if she was crying or not. She could not tell if she was wracked by spasms from the effects of prolonged electrocution or if they were grief and horror-induced convulsions. All she knew was that she loathed herself for what she had done, for killing a man, and for placing her own existence above that of another’s. She loathed herself for placing herself in a situation where she would be forced to make such a sadistic choice. She hated the Dark Jedi who had forced her to kill in cold-blood. She hated the cold logic that said some lives were more worthwhile than others to protect, while at the same time she knew it was true. It was a bitter truth to swallow and Ariada barely kept from choking both on that thought and the mixture of vomit and bacta she had accidentally ingested.

The tank was opened and she felt herself be slowly floated out of it by the Thisspiassian. He stared at the wounded, burned, despondent Wroonian as she was suspended in mid-air, dripping blood and bacta onto the stone floor.

“You have made a hard decision, Ariada,” he told her. “Do not think that any of us would have made such a choice without reservation, for we are not mindless killers. It takes a certain amount of cold rationality to truly wield the power of the Force with the proper mindset. I only regret that you had to learn that in such a painful and torturous manner. Salsirran has a unique appreciation for that type of cruelty and it shows in his test.”

He gestured off to one side and a hover stretcher appeared. Telekinetically, he lowered her into it.

“You will be well-taken care of and given the opportunity to recover somewhat before the next test. I regret as well that you must be tested again and in a similarly harsh manner, but it is only through the heat of the blast furnace that metal can be refined. You will succeed, I am sure of it.”

With that, he laid a long-nailed hand on her head. A wave of Force energy hit her, sending her pain-wracked body into the relative safety and peace of unconsciousness.


 * Rishi

It was just into the first watch on the Vigilant Refuge, when the top three commanding officers were asleep. A lowly commander was left in charge on the bridge, along with a fairly minimal complement manning the ship’s stations. Many of the crew chose to sleep during this time when they weren’t on duty. The other watches had been relieved for an hour now, and there was a sense of quiet after the turmoil of watch change. Things had settled down. The lighting in the corridors of the carrier had been dimmed to conserve energy—one of the starboard auxiliary reactors had sustained damage in the skirmish against the Yuuzhan Vong and hadn’t been fully repaired by the engineering crews quite just yet.

Most of the conversation in the bridge was muted, filtered out against the background noise of the humming, beeping, and whirring of the hundred displays and control booths strategically located through the ship’s command center. It was shaping up to be another nondescript, uneventful watch.

Commander Sorispice, a slender, gaunt Duros sat comfortably in his bridge chair, idly looking over status reports. He’d been in the Yanibar Guard Fleet for a little over ten years now and had advanced rapidly through the ranks of the peacetime navy. While this deployment was the first major combat operation for him, so far, there hadn’t been anything beyond the capability of his fleet, nor had anything extraordinary been asked of him. Everything had gone surprisingly well thus far.

Until now.

“Hyperspace reversion detected,” the flat synthesized-male voiced of the ship’s auditory warning system intoned, with that vaguely Coruscanti accent. “Hyperspace reversion detected.”

The senior officers’ chairs dominated the bridge layout, overlooking the rest of the control stations. Thus, when the holographic cylinder projected in front of the sensor officers’ booth began lighting up with red symbols, Sorispice was instantly able to see what was happening.

“Sensors, talk to me!” Sorispice demanded.

“Hyperspace reversion detected.”

“Multiple inbound contacts decanting from hyperspace,” the human female serving as chief sensor officer reported calmly. “Initial telemetry shows them all vectored directly towards us. Ship types largely unknown.”

“Hyperspace reversion detected.”

A chill ran down Sorispice’s spine as red chevron after red chevron shimmered into existence on the tactical holo display, all with direction arrows pointing towards the Yanibar Guard fleet. It was a huge armada, outgunning his force several times over and closing fast, and more ships were arriving by the minute.

“Hyperspace reversion detected.”

“Force above,” he breathed. “It’s the Yuuzhan Vong.”

He stared in abject horror for a minute, then his training kicked in and he was once again a calm professional. Rising from his chair, the orders he had to give somehow issued from his throat despite the uncontrollable trembling in his arms. Sorispice tried to hide that by clenching his fists even as his mind raced to find the appropriate course of action.

“All hands to battle stations,” he said. “Alert the fleet. Bring us up to combat speed. Launch all fighters. Roll us out to 183-67-mark-59 and form the fleet into echelon six formation. And somebody shut that damn thing off!”

Klaxons began wailing throughout the mighty carrier as crews scrambled into protective vests and raced to their battle stations. Within two minutes, Commodore Arystek was on the bridge. Her hair was rumbled and uniform tunic half-fastened, but nobody bothered to remark on it. There was a sense of ardent urgency and tension throughout the bridge as she apprised the situation, then took over for her subordinate.

“Get me groundside,” she barked at the communications officer. “Make sure they’re seeing what we are. Change formation to echelon three and prime all batteries.”

The holo display soon showed the inexorable advance. The small Yuuzhan Vong blockading force linked up with the new arrivals and plunged directly towards the beleaguered Yanibar Guard Fleet.

“Kriff it,” came an awestruck expletive from the sensor booth that somehow carried across the bridge.

“What is it?” Arystek snapped.

“They’re launching fighters, ma’am,” she replied breathlessly, eyes widened in shock. “Look.”

She glanced at the tactical hologram and started in surprise as a deluge of tiny red dots swarmed out from the advancing force like the tentacles of a malevolent sea creature.

“There must be a thousand of them,” she reported.

Arystek glanced down at her chrono and knew that she would not have time to withdraw before they closed on her. She would have to stand and fight.

“Deploy all droids,” Arystek ordered. “Have them break up the fighter attack. I want our manned craft to flank their coralskipper waves after their initial run and pin them into our batteries. Set up kill zones and blunt the edge of the starfighter assault.”

The Yuuzhan Vong force slowly resolved itself against the black backdrop of space as tiny glistening blobs that grew ever larger. The Yanibar Guard fleet descended into the upper atmosphere of Rishi, attempting to create closure between them and their foe, but the stalling tactic was unsuccessful. Any further attempt at flight would only lead to the YGF force exposing its engines to unrelenting Yuuzhan Vong attack.”

“Helm, bring us about,” Arystek ordered.

The ships of the Yanibar Guard slowly lumbered around to face their foe, facing into the onslaught of the coralskippers. A wave of 64 Vulture battle droids rocketed into the midst of the coralskippers, blazing away with laser cannons and torpedoes in an impressive display of mass fire techniques. However, the numbers of coralskippers were far beyond those of the droids, who were outdated and best employed against smaller numbers in order to overwhelm their opponents. The oncoming wave engulfed and obliterated the battle droids, leaving shattered wreckage behind—only a few droids survived the initial salvo of plasma fire from the Yuuzhan Vong starfighters. Their numbers barely dented by the droid assault, the Yuuzhan Vong swarmed into the Yanibar Guard Fleet.

“All batteries, open fire,” Arystek ordered.

Heavy turrets swiveled and trained themselves on the distant targets as gunners and fire control computers brought them to bear on the throng of coralskippers knifing towards them. The Vigilant Refuge rumbled and whined as terajoules of energy flowed through its conduits into the gunning stations, then every single laser cannon and turbolaser opened up in a blistering firestorm of coherent light. The supporting warships of the fleet followed suit, hurling thousands of energy bolts into the coralskippers. Messy explosions soon lit up the formation, but still they approached, and now it was their turn to open fire.

Ten thousand plasma globules were soon streaking towards the Yanibar Guard Fleet. The Vigilant Refuge’s shields erupted with orange blossoms as molten material splashed onto them, burning away the protective energy field. The warship shuddered as a thousand impacts registered on the deflectors. A formation of coralskippers shot right over the bridge, pelting its shields with dozens of magma chips that splattered against the shields with bright orange flares. They were chased away by violet streams of laser cannon fire which claimed one of them. The stricken starfighter, rapidly being chewed to pieces by the point-defense batteries, dipped its nose at the last moment and rammed into the ship, punching through the carrier’s aft shields and sending a small short-lived fireball leaping into space from the stern.

“Several engine compartments breached,” reported the damage control officer.

“Get our shields back up,” Arystek snapped even as the carrier lurched from a hundred other impacts across its skin. “Seal the hangars. We can’t have something getting in!”

The carrier began sustaining damage as the relentless coralskippers wore away at its shields. Its batteries blazed away, but the Yuuzhan Vong starfighters were both resilient and unflinching in the face of the barrage. It was a death by a thousand tiny cuts as the shields collapsed again and again. Each time a redundant layer was activated, but only after the coralskippers were able to strafe the ship repeatedly, pockmarking it with a hundred gashes in its metal hide. Fires burned from ruptured compartments, only to be rapidly extinguished as they were sealed off and the oxygen was depleted. Defensive batteries issued streams of purple laser cannon fire, but that only drew the attention of the Yuuzhan Vong, who focused on crippling the carrier’s weaponry. Soon, less than half of its defensive weapons were still operational.

Tsaruuk’s swarming coralskipper tactics and the Yanibar Guard formation meant that the carrier’s protective screen could only fire in certain zones without fear of hitting the Vigilant Refuge. The lack of defensive starfighters was proving to be a fatal weakness for the YGF force, as Tsaruuk’s coralskippers racked up ever-increasing amounts of damage on the carrier. Even though it was not the largest ship in the YGF force, he had identified it as the flagship through his analysis of Yanibar Guard behavior sent from advance force. Tsaruuk’s orders to inflict as much damage as possible on that ship were being carried out with merciless and reckless intensity.

Slowly, the carrier’s defenses were whittled away, reminding Arystek of a nature holodoc of a woolamander being chewed to pieces by a swarm of piranha beetles. Each coralskipper’s attacks were largely insignificant, but when multiplied by five hundred and added together, they rapidly eroded the warship’s capabilities.

“All right, bring in the fighters, loosen formation to focus nine!” Arystek shouted, fighting to make herself heard over the clamor on the bridge.

On her command, 180 Sabres, Maelstroms, and Shotos flew in from the stern of the YGF formation at maximum attack speed, weapons blazing away. The friendly craft, though vastly outnumbered, sliced through the coralskippers, whose formation integrity had diminished into small attacking wedges of fighters, which were easier to overwhelm. Space visible from the bridge’s viewports erupted in a blistering light show as the starfighters counter-attacked. Explosions lit up the screen as coralskippers were shot to pieces by the onslaught of the YGF fighter screen.

The coralskippers remained unflinching and while some of them turned to meet their attackers, the rest continued their unyielding bombardment of the Vigilant Refuge. The guiding influence of telepathic Yuuzhan Vong war coordinators kept them focused on their mission while simultaneously directing the entire coralskipper force with eerie synchronization. Several of them made ramming attacks onto the stern of the ship, exacerbating the damage at the sacrifice of Yuuzhan Vong craft.

“Commodore, we’ve take serious damage to our starboard engines,” the Yaka standing at the engineer’s station reported. “Defensive batteries are not providing adequate protection.” “Tighten up the screen, bring in the Makashis,” Arystek ordered, tracing out orders on a hologlobe with rapid, adept movements of her stylus. “All ships execute course change to five-oh-seven-mark-one-niner at flank speed.”

“The Vigilant Refuge is no longer capable of flank speed,” the helmsman reported.

“Then whatever we are capable of!” she snapped.

Meanwhile, the Yuuzhan Vong capital ships and gunships were closing rapidly. The Yanibar Guard Fleet formation had turned to veer away from them, but the Yuuzhan Vong altered their approach so that the leading edge of the fleets would run parallel to each other for some time, trapping the YGF between the Vong force and Rishi.

A shower of sparks erupted from a burst ceiling glowpanel as the overstrained power systems on the Vigilant Refuge struggled to cope with the excessive demands placed on them. The damage holo representing the carrier began looking increasing dire, with amber and red warning symbols appearing all over its silhouette. Then suddenly, the communication officer gave Arystek a bit of welcome news.

“Commodore, comm for you. From groundside.”

“This is Commodore Aurek,” the officer responded after nodding to the officer to rout the transmission to her station.

“This is Klivian, we spoke a few days ago. Looks like you’re in a bit of trouble there, Commodore.”

“Seems that way indeed,” Arystek replied curtly, with a glance at the worsening damage holo.

“Well, since we’re probably next in line after they get done with you, we thought we’d offer our help.”

There were Yanibar Guard Fleet protocols about such things, but Arystek wasn’t feeling particularly obliged to deal with that formality in the light of her impending obliteration. She could deal with the court-martial if it kept her and her fleet alive.

“Much appreciated,” she said. “I recommend your formation launches a diversionary assault on the Yuuzhan Vong and not join in the close-in defense—our sensors aren’t calibrated to recognize your ships as friendlies and there would be communication issues.”

“Understood,” Klivian replied. “We’ll see if we can’t shake some of those ships off of you.”

Arystek’s sensors soon showed a gaggle of unknown craft rising from the surface to intercept the Yuuzhan Vong fleet.

“Tag them as friendlies, have the assault craft follow them in,” she said. “Inform Colonel Klivian of our intentions.”

Her orders were swiftly carried out, but the toll from the coralskipper assault was beginning to mount. The sturdy carrier was falling to pieces and damage to its engines was forcing it and its attendant Makashi-class frigates to slow. Ahead, Arystek saw the Fleet Defender Obi-Wan Kenobi release its complement of eighty point-defense drones, autonomous robotic craft designed to protect the Yanibar Guard Fleet by encircling ships and shooting down projectiles and hostile fighters with turret-mounted repeating blasters. The drones had limited fuel supplies and were not recommended for use during high-speed maneuvering, but the Kenobi’s captain had seen fit to send them back to help protect the Vigilant Refuge. Their defensive fire helped draw off the coralskipper assaults, and while many of them were swiftly destroyed, every drone lost was another minute for the Vigilant Refuge to keep fighting, keep moving away from the oncoming juggernaut of the Yuuzhan Vong main fleet.

The combined New Republic and Rishian attack force swept into the side of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, bombarding them with every joule of firepower their meager fleet could muster. Red and green laser bolts intermingled with pink missile trails as the weapons fire lanced into the Yuuzhan Vong force. The flanking frigates and gunships lit up with a smattering of detonations and flashes as some of the weaponry managed to slip past the dovin basal defenses and score hits on the smaller ships. In response, they met with a withering fusillade as three mataloks—roughly analogous to a Star Destroyer—broke off to deal with the pests. New Republic ships exploded in the face of the counterfire, leaving behind crippled wrecks and glowing metallic debris. The surviving warships peeled off, some trailing smoke, fumes, and debris from serious damage. The mataloks pursued them, only to suddenly be confronted with Arystek’s assault wave.

Though their escort of only sixteen Sabres and six Shotos was meager, the six squadrons of B-wings were able to unleash their considerable firepower onto the mataloks. Splitting up into two groups, they pounded two of the three Yuuzhan Vong warships with crippling torpedo barrages. With almost all of their coralskippers sent to attack the Yanibar Guard Fleet, the B-wing pilots were able to make their runs virtually unmolested while the Sabres and Shotos drew defensive fire. Soon, both of the targeted mataloks were hulled repeatedly by the furious torpedo salvos of the cruciform starfighters. This was what B-wings were designed to do—kill capital ships—and they were performing splendidly. Other Yuuzhan Vong warships and coralskipper formations quickly hove to in order to chase off the surprisingly effective starfighters, but by then the B-wings had expended most of their ordnance anyway and withdrew. In their wake, they left one matalok a lifeless derelict, the other crippled and limping, barely managing to keep from being pulled down into a terminal trajectory.

Even as the starfighters plied their deadly trade, though, Tsaruuk’s fleet shot forward with a surprising burst of acceleration to close within weapons range of their capital ships. Streams of molten plasma were hurled through space to slam into the Yanibar Guard Fleet ships. Unable to escape from the fire, Arystek’s force was instantly pounded.

Both Makashi-class frigates that were protecting the Vigilant Refuge disappeared from view under the heaping of plasma fire they received. In short order, both were completely lost. Three of the four forward prongs of the Tsui Choi were chewed off and the ship’s stern was blasted and torn open, exposing the innards of the frigate. A bevy of escape pods shot away from the stricken vessel, even as the Yuuzhan Vong continued to bombard the frigate. A few pods reached other YGF vessels or Rishi—the rest were blasted into atoms by coralskippers. The Nejaa Halcyon was less fortunate—plasma fire melted into its hangar bay and engines, destabilizing the reactors. The warship blew up in a spectacular fireball which split the vessel into three separate, lifeless hulks.

The Yuuzhan Vong fleet advanced, ignoring the return fire which tore apart one of their frigates. Redoubling their assault, the lead pair of mataloks alternately volleyed more plasma missiles into the Vigilant Refuge and the cruiser-carrier Saesee Tiin. Both vessels quickly had their port sides gashed and torn into by the endless streaks of molten material slamming into them. Energy shields offered only a few scant seconds of protection before they failed in the face of the Yuuzhan Vong fire. On the bridge, Commodore Arystek clutched the console in front of her as she endured the litany of damage reports being rattled off with as much ferocity as the Yuuzhan Vong attacks.

“Commodore, we’ve lost primary engines. We are falling behind,” her Yaka engineer informed her with restrained detachment.

“Fighter screen is down to fifty percent effectiveness. The coralskippers are only attacking our starboard,” another officer reported.

“Down to one stern battery. Most other defensive weapons have been disabled.”

“Venting atmosphere on multiple decks. We have breaches in sixteen engine compartments.”

“Portside top hangar is breached!”

As if to punctuate his words, an explosion tore through the Vigilant Refuge, buckling its already battered hull. The entire ship lurched and shuddered, flinging crewmembers around like rag dolls.

“Order the fleet to maneuver away from the VR,” Arystek ordered as she picked herself up, ignoring the gash across her head. “They can’t accomplish anything by dying alongside us. Get me Captain Ido.”

Within seconds, the flickering hologram of the tall dark-skinned human male standing on the bridge of the Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared in view.

“Captain, the fleet is yours,” Arystek said. “Do not come back to save us. Save as many ships as possible.”

“You should abandon ship,” the normally taciturn-officer advised.

Arystek shook her head resolutely even as the Vigilant Refuge was rocked by another series of explosions which threatened to toss her across the bridge. Blotting out the shouted exclamations and alarms incessantly flooding her hearing, she focused on the transmission.

“Not yet. As long as they are focused on us, they’re not hitting the rest of the ships. Stay the course, Captain. The fleet is yours now.”

“Aye, ma’am,” he said, saluting.

The transmission winked out. Arystek looked at the tactical display to see that the Nejaa Halcyon was now drifting, being chewed to pieces by coralskippers and two Yuuzhan Vong frigates while barely offering any resistance. Suddenly, a new formation of smaller ships emerged from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, closing on the Vigilant Refuge. She turned to her tactical officer.

“What are those?” she asked. “Bombers?”

He shook his head, a nervous pallor spreading across his face.

“No ma’am,” he said. “Those are assault craft. They’re going to board us.”

Even as the Vigilant Refuge fell further and further behind the rest of the Yanibar Guard fleet, the Yuuzhan Vong bombardment diminished, seeking merely to suppress the last of the carrier’s defensive batteries. The shuttles, hideous organic creatures reminiscent of marine insects, closed into position and began latching onto the ruined port side. Arystek swallowed nervously as she watched them clamp onto her ship, disgorging hordes of bloodthirsty Yuuzhan Vong warriors to rampage through her ship. She toggled the ship’s intercom.

“All hands, this is the captain. Stand by to repel boarders. Do not abandon ship—you won’t make it far before they capture or kill you. Hold out as long as you can. Courage and honor!”

She glanced down at her chrono and grimaced. Time was running out.

17
Tsaruuk watched with grim satisfaction as his warriors stormed into the enemy flagship. Soon, they would net valuable prisoners and information that would give him the clues he needed to unravel the mysterious nature of the fleet that had dared to oppose his aims both over Ord Pardron and at Rishi.

Thus far, his unfamiliarity with the tactics of the infidels he was fighting had already cost him more ships than he’d expected to lose. The ambush of the mataloks had been quite a shock, depriving him of two capital ships in a fleet that only had seven aside from his flagship. The defenders, though heavily outgunned and outnumbered, had fought tenaciously. The blaze bugs told him that he had lost over two hundred coralskippers, as well as four smaller vessels. However, Tsaruuk had preserved his larger ships from suffering unduly by withdrawing vessels that had taken too much damage and rotating them out with other ships. This had earned him the ire of his overly-aggressive captains, but it kept his fighting strength from being too heavily depleted. He was prepared to seize the infidel flagship and estimated that around half of their fleet had been wiped out, as had at least half of the motley force that had risen from Rishi to aid the mystery fleet. Dispatching most of his fleet to chase the remnants of the retreating defenders, he ordered his personal flagship, a massive dreadnaught that dwarfed the Vigilant Refuge to stand by the crippled infidel ship to pick off any escape pods.

Tsaruuk eagerly stalked over to the villip choir and signaled the attendant to bring him the villip linked to the leader of the boarding party. Stroking it, he soon saw a representation of the warrior’s face reflected in the villip.

“Report,” Tsaruuk demanded.

“We are advancing through the infidel ship,” the warrior reported. “Progress is not as fast as we would like, and many pockets of defenders are left behind. Many sections of the infidel ship are uncleared, particularly the forward part of the ship.”

“Never mind that, we want to seize the control sections of their vessel and force a surrender from their leaders. What is impeding you?”

“The infidel crewmembers fight poorly enough and our warriors defeat them with ease, but they have armored soldiers and machine abominations that show surprising resilience for infidels. They have cost us many warriors, but more would be lost if we had not proceeded with caution as you commanded. Our victory is assured, though we have yet to take their bridge.”

“Good work,” Tsaruuk said. “Send the majority of your warriors to secure the infidels’ power-generation machinery. They may try and destroy the ship rather than allow us to take it—if you can disable the machine-links between the bridge and the propulsion, you can prevent this from happening.”

“It will be done, Great One,” the warrior replied.

The villip everted, but Tsaruuk was not satisfied. In order to truly understand his opponent, he had to experience them for himself. He had to fight them himself. A sudden urge to join the boarding effort filled him. He checked the blaze bug display, but the chase scarcely needed his attention—the remaining vessels would be caught soon, and those that escaped to the far side of the world would run into the Peace Brigade force that he had ordered to lay in wait there.

“Dispatch landing forces to seize the primary cities of Rishi,” he commanded. “Target the locations of authority and subdue the leaders. They will capitulate or die.”

At his order, dozens of dropships began to hurtle towards the surface like a swarm of plundering insects. This was a risky maneuver, launching a simultaneous ground assault as well as continuing the pursuit of the defeated fleet in orbit, but Tsaruuk was confident in the ability of his warriors. Strapping a villip onto his shoulder, he collected his amphistaff and turned to one of his subalterns.

“Prepare me a ship. I wish to board the infidel vessel,” he said. “Kroi Taak, you are in command.”

Within minutes, he was on his way, flanked by a dozen capable warriors as bodyguards. His yorik-trema landing craft soon landed in a secured hangar inside the Vigilant Refuge and Tsaruuk’s party poured into the battered ship. The Yuuzhan Vong officer stopped for a moment to take in his surroundings, sniffing the air—this part of the ship was still sealed off. The tang of ozone from infidel weapons mixed with burned flesh and charred metals and plastics, with a hint of blood, both Yuuzhan Vong and infidel, mixed in. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of the destruction visited by his warriors on the infidel ship. Now he would plunge straight into its heart and rip it out. Tsaruuk turned to the warriors who been left behind to wait for his arrival.

“Take me towards the infidel bridge,” he said, licking his lips in anticipation of combat. “Take me to the fighting.”

His party was quickly led aft towards where the Yuuzhan Vong advance had been temporarily halted. Tsaruuk saw the boarding party leader and around three dozen other warriors hunkered down, staring at an open doorway that led into a shaft of some kind.

“What delays you, Ghenda Dith?” Tsaruuk asked.

“The infidels are clustered on the floor above us, behind protective shield abominations. There are only three ways up, and all of them are heavily covered by their machine-weapons. If we charge up there, we will do so over a wave of our own dead. I was about to ask for your orders when word reached me of your arrival.”

“You chose wisely,” Tsaruuk told him. “To throw away warriors needlessly is not wise. Nor is your desire to assess the situation a mark of cowardice.”

“What shall we do to dig these infidels out of the fortress they have made for themselves?”

Tsaruuk grinned evilly.

“We will dig the floor out from under them,” he said. “Bring in the grutchinya.”

Soon, half-dozen fearsome black insects, around a meter and a half high and with twitching mandibles, were brought into the chamber. At Tsaruuk’s order, these were directed against the ceiling while warriors stacked debris in place so that they could scramble into the holes made by the grutchinya with ease. Once the ceiling was mostly eaten through, Tsaruuk ordered the grutchinya temporarily restrained. Instead, he seized a collection of plasma eels and distributed them.

“Throw them into the areas weakened by the grutchinya,” he ordered. “Then once the metal gives way, throw another volley and then send in the grutchinya to sow havoc among the defenders. Throw from cover!”

The warriors nodded in agreement and Tsaruuk hurled his plasma eel into the weakened ceiling. The spear-like creature struck the metal and exploded with violent force, sending a sheet of energy burning upward. The weakened deck ruptured in a bright flash as drops of superheated metal showered the floor.

“Now!” Tsaruuk shouted, hurling his second plasma eel upward into the breach.

The other warriors followed suit and the sharp pop of the eels exploding could be heard. Some instinct caused Tsaruuk to duck back behind the ruins of a control booth just as several small spheres were rolled down the newly-created holes in the aftermath of the explosion.

The room his warriors were in thundered as the spheres detonated. Several hapless warriors were caught by the blast and hurled backward into walls to impact limply. However, most of the warriors had taken cover, so the explosions didn’t have the desired impact.

“Unleash the grutchinya!” Tsaruuk snarled.

The handlers quickly directed the chittering insects upward into the newly-created breaches, where they were met with sounds of infidel weapons and battle cries.

“Charge!” Tsaruuk roared, leaping up as his warriors scrambled through the holes to join in the battle.

The Yuuzhan Vong burst upward into a large room, lunging at their opponents with amphistaffs ready. The first several warriors up into the chamber were gunned down by streams of blasterfire, but the grutchinya were doing their job, distracting the defenders long enough for more warriors to clamber up. Tsaruuk charged up into the midst of a confused brawl, with Yuuzhan Vong and grutchinya charging into a ring of defenders blazing away behind improvised barricades.

A pair of spindly tripodal droids stood against one wall, blazing away with streams of purple blaster fire that scythed through his warriors. Several fell before a pair of warriors managed to reach them even as the blasters chewed through their armor and hacked them to pieces with amphistaffs, coufees, and strategically planted blast bugs. The other corners were defended by a mix of unarmored infidels, likely naval crewers, armed with carbines and pistols, and more formidable warriors armored from head to toe with heavier weapons. The Yuuzhan Vong leapt into their midst, hurling their insectile weapons even as they closed to stab and hack with amphistaffs and coufees.

Tsaruuk lunged at a pair of crewers that were firing steadily at the Yuuzhan Vong. Leaping over the table they were using as cover, he stabbed downward with his amphistaff, plunging into the neck of a human crewmember, eliciting a crimson spray of blood. His companion turned to fire at him at point-blank range, but Tsaruuk whipped the head of the amphistaff around and sprayed venom into his unprotected face. The infidel—a Twi’lek, he believed they were called—screamed and fell backward, twitching and clawing at his face.

Grinning fiercely, Tsaruuk turned his attention to one of the armored warriors, locked in combat with one of the Yuuzhan Vong. The infidel blocked a ferocious overhand amphistaff chop with his weapon, which nearly broke it in half. In response, though, the infidel dropped it and quickly extracted a pair of knives, which he rammed into the warrior’s vulnerable underarms. The Yuuzhan Vong gasped and collapsed, black blood pouring from two jagged stab wounds. Impressed, Tsaruuk replaced the blast bug he had been about to hurl and took up his amphistaff again. This infidel deserved to at least face him in combat.

Roaring loudly to get his foe’s attention, he charged the infidel, who rolled aside. The amphistaff’s tail, rigid like a spear, only clipped him instead of stabbing him. The infidel struck with one of his blades as he spun, leaving a score mark in Tsaruuk’s armor. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior struck downward with his fist, felt it strike the infidel’s leg and sweep it out from under him. With a triumphant cry, Tsaruuk stabbed downward with his amphistaff, aiming for the infidel’s neck. At the last moment, the infidel lashed out with one arm, batting the amphistaff tip away to hit the deck above his shoulder. However, Tsaruuk’s eyes were caught by the infidel’s other hand, which had extracted a small silver orb. Recognizing it as a weapon, he kicked it away down the shaft before the infidel could activate it, where it exploded with a violent concussion.

Just as Tsaruuk turned his attention back to the infidel lying helplessly on the floor, he heard a snap-hiss behind him. Whirling around to face the threat, he saw a blue-skinned Twi’lek woman leaping towards him, a cyan-bladed lightsaber slashing at his face. Tsaruuk’s mind barely had time to register that he was now fighting a Jeedai even as he automatically brought the amphistaff up to parry. The humming energy blade glanced off his shoulder, slicing off the villip there, but the rest of the blow was deflected by the staff. The Jeedai riposted, shifting her weight backward as he counter-struck, only to reply with a lightning-fast three-hit combo. Tsaruuk blocked two of them, but her third stroke caught him on the thigh. He was pleased to see that her Jeedai weapon didn’t penetrate his vonduun crab armor, and was delighted to see the confusion in her eyes—she obviously had expected such a result.

Tsaruuk continued to block her blows while holding his position. Within three seconds, he had her fighting style figured out. Hers was based on agility, and in the cramped confines of the ship, she was hampered. If he had been as flimsy as she was, he was sure that the kicks and arm blows she slipped in past his guard would have knocked him over, but he was content to weather them and defend against her lightsaber for the most part, not bothering to defend against strikes that would do no harm other than score his armor due to the lack of power behind them.

Having satisfied himself of his prowess against the Jeedai and her fearsome speed, he lashed out with his amphistaff, driving her back deliberately even as he continued to repel her constant assault. Tsaruuk knew he had to be careful—she was extremely fast and one blow from her Jeedai weapon in the right spot could instantly cripple him. However, he pressed the assault relentlessly, forcing her to block and parry rather than attack. Her immediate parries scored his armor repeatedly, but he made sure to protect himself from exposing a vulnerable area where she could land a fatal strike. Having driven the Jeedai back several steps, he suddenly lunged forward, stabbing aggressively with the tail of the amphistaff towards her midsection. As expected, she parried low, seeking to sweep the weapon away from him and then quickly stab at his head. However, Tsaruuk darted forward inside her guard, curling the suddenly flexible amphistaff up around her arms and slamming them back into a wall he’d been pushing her into. Her grip on the weapon loosened and Tsaruuk wrenched her wrist with his right arm, crushing it in a bone-snapping grip, causing her to drop her weapon.

His other arm shot forward to clamp itself around her neck with vicious force. The Jeedai’s eyes bulged and Tsaruuk glowered down mercilessly at her.

“You have fought well, Jeedai,” he told her. “I will reward you with a swift death such as you infidels crave.”

She struggled, but Tsaruuk was too quick and slammed his armored knee into her midsection, driving the air from her lungs. Taking advantage of her momentary inability to counter-attack, Tsaruuk released her wrist in order to use his right hand to grab the top of her head. He exerted himself with a violent twisting motion and was rewarded to hear her neck snap. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed limply. Even as he slew the Jeedai, Tsaruuk still heard the humming of another one of their weapons.

Turning he saw that a group of seven armored infidel warriors, defended by a furry Bothan Jeedai, was retreating towards an inner door. The Bothan was batting away thud and razor bugs with rapid circular motions of his emerald-green lightsaber while the relentless fire from the armored warriors gunned down any Yuuzhan Vong that ran towards them. Tsaruuk hurled a blast bug after them, but the Jeedai caught it on his blade and incinerated it. The infidels retreated away from them, away from the bridge, sealing off a door behind them.

“Shall we chase them?” a warrior asked.

“No,” Tsaruuk replied. “They are cut off from the prize of their ship’s bridge—our other parties can hunt them down. Where is Ghenda Dith?”

“He is dead,” the warrior informed him. “The other Jeedai slew him.”

Tsaruuk looked to see the warrior lying headless on the ground. A pity. He had rather liked Ghenda Dith. Anger filled him and he sought to control it, to harness it in battle instead of being swept away by mindless rage like so many other Yuuzhan Vong warriors would. He needed information, and for that, he would need captives to interrogate. While his party had been forced to be ruthlessly efficient in killing these entrenched defenders, he could ill-afford to kill everyone.

“Forward!” he ordered. “Find the infidels! Take as many prisoners as you can! Take their captain!”

The remaining thirty Yuuzhan Vong warriors formed around their leader and thundered toward the bridge.

Commodore Arystek, hunkered behind her control booth, clutching the S-1D blaster pistol that she so rarely practiced with. The bridge was not designed to be defensible, and having sent the last two droidekas down to join the defense at the atrium, she and the rest of the bridge crew could mount little defense now that that had fallen. There were only two Yanibar Guard marines here, weapons trained steadily on the door, while she and the other eight remaining crewers only had survival vests and pistols to serve them. Arystek gritted her teeth and glanced back at her crew—they looked nervous and frightened, and for good reason. She could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, could hear the muffled growls and alien sounds of them digging through the blast doors with whatever means the Yuuzhan Vong had to do so. Gripping her blaster in a two-handed grip, she trained it on the door and willed herself to keep shooting until she had no breath left. Better to die in battle at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong than to suffer the inevitable torture of being one of their captives.

She turned back to the crew one last time even as the doors began to visible erode from whatever weaponry was being employed on them.

“No matter what happens!” she called, mustering up every ounce of courage she could pretend to inject into her voice. “Don’t give up the ship!”

The doors burst down and the Yuuzhan Vong rushed in. Arystek sighted down the barrel of her pistol and fired as the aliens rushed through the door. The other defenders poured their own blasterfire into the ranks of the fearsome aliens and their spiky, living armor. To her astonishment, only a couple of Yuuzhan Vong fell. The rest charged in, heedless of the blaster bolts striking them. They hurled a wave of insects, many of which swooped in to smash into the unarmored defenders. Arystek was clipped by one of them, which threw her to the deck, jarring her shoulder and head from the impact. The marines put up a better fight, standing firm against repeated strikes from the bugs, which drew the ire of the Yuuzhan Vong. One of them grabbed one of the marines and slammed her helmet into the wall repeatedly until she collapsed unconscious. The other marine was dispatched in a swifter fashion as a warrior dove low to tackle him to the floor. The marine fired as he fell, but another Yuuzhan Vong impaled him on an amphistaff and held up the lifeless carcass as a trophy.

“Surrender or you will die too!” roared one of the Yuuzhan Vong warriors in mangled Basic.

The three remaining crewmembers froze in terror momentarily, but Arystek painfully picked herself up off the floor. Pulling herself to her knees, she brought up her pistol and shot the Yuuzhan Vong warrior hoisting the marine’s body in the face, sending him to the floor.

“Never!” she shouted.

Rising from behind cover, she screamed and rushed wildly at the Yuuzhan Vong, firing from the hip as fast as she could. The Yuuzhan Vong did not flinch though, and at a signal, one of the warriors charged her, his chest armor absorbing her errant blasts. Instead of killing her, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder while his wrist shot up to pinion her blaster arm behind her back so that the barrel was pointed at herself. Arystek struggled, but the warrior’s crushing strength pinned her in place. She was to be a prisoner, the highest-ranking member of the Yanibar Guard Fleet ever captured by an enemy. She would be subjected to the cruelest tortures the Yuuzhan Vong could devise until she divulged every secret she knew. She would be broken and killed slowly, a miserable excuse for a human being. The realization of her impending fate provoked a final defiance towards the Yuuzhan Vong in her. She would not be taken prisoner. She would not spill her secrets and guts in a slimy Yuuzhan Vong ship while being tortured. Arystek turned so she could face the side of her captor’s head even she tried to position the blaster barrel appropriately.

“You lose,” she said.

She had just a split second to revel in the surprise registering on the Yuuzhan Vong’s face as he processed what she had just said before she pulled the trigger, sending a blaster bolt searing through her body and into the warrior’s throat. There was a sudden burning sensation, and then she blacked out. Her desperate act of bravado meant she just barely missed the hell that was unleashed next.

Selu Kraen stood on the bridge of the flagship of the Yanibar Guard, the Vaapad-class battlecruiser Lightbearer and silently counted down the seconds until reversion. A sudden tremor in the Force struck him and he was filled with sorrow. One of the Elite Guardians on the Rishi task force had just perished. Closing his eyes, he focused on the source of the pain and loss, until an image of the fallen Elite Guardian appeared in his mind’s eye. He soon envisioned a blue-skinned Twi’lek slowly fading into nothingness and knew that it was Master Zamara who had perished. She smiled sadly at him and her hand traced out a series of numbers as she diminished. Grief welled up in him, but Selu knew that he could not afford to mourn Zamara now. Steeling himself against the emotion, he opened his eyes.

“One minute to reversion,” Admiral Cyrreso informed him.

“Get us a microjump in closer,” Selu said, writing down a series of coordinates that Zamara had given him. “As soon as we revert, transmit these coordinates to the fleet and jump as fast as possible. We’re going in hot.”

“You mean. . .?”

“Yes. We’re jumping in right on top of their fleet,” Selu answered grimly. “All hands to battle stations, launch all fighters, and prepare batteries to fire upon reversion.”

Selu hit his comlink.

“Daara, are you ready?” he asked her.

“I think so, Master Kraen,” she replied. “I sensed Zamara. . .”

“Yes,” Selu answered remorsefully. “She has fallen. We will honor her when we can—but we must focus for now, she would want that. We will need your battle meditation.”

“Of course, Master. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. Force be with you.”

The Yanibar Guard fleet dropped out of hyperspace on the edges of the Rishi system, blasting its way through a series of dovin basal mines as fighters launched from their respective ships. Once a corridor was carved out, the entire fleet turned and jumped, a short leap of only about two seconds.

With a flicker of pseudomotion, the task force reverted alarmingly close to the Vigilant Refuge. The ships emerged from oblivion in a rapid volley of reversions and immediately opened fire on the Yuuzhan Vong vessels surrounding the beleaguered carrier. Chief among their targets was a mammoth warship that seemed more like a space station with its numerous protrusions and spines extending from its oblong core. Two escorting frigates were almost instantly reduced to charred hulks as the YGF gunners found their marks. The space between Bloodthirster and the YGF force seemed to explode as thousands of purple turbolaser bolts, blue ion cannon blasts, and golden missile trails crossed the void and slammed into the Yuuzhan Vong warship. A host of defensive dovin basals interposed themselves between the weapons fire and the massive warship, absorbing energy and missile alike, but the furious barrage was too much for the dovin basals to completely absorb. Turbolaser strikes gouged deep holes into the yorik coral while missiles and torpedoes carved blackened craters that blew splinters of coral into space and opened chambers to vacuum. The Yuuzhan Vong returned fire, but they were caught off guard and overwhelmed by the sheer number of Yanibar Guard vessels. The rest of their fleet, off chasing the remnant of Arystek’s force, immediately wheeled around and began flying back, sending a vanguard of the remaining coralskippers streaking back to attack the newcomers.

Selu suddenly sensed a disturbance in the Force from Treysk’atha, Zamara’s apprentice and partner on the Vigilant Refuge. Frowning, he pulled up a hologram of one of his subordinates, a scarred warrior with shaven head and heavy-set features.

“First Rank Staroth,” he said, addressing the leader of the Jalsinnare Brotherhood. “We need your warriors on the Vigilant Refuge.”

“Would it not be better to board their flagship and take it?” the formidable warrior inquired in his deep accented voice.

“Not this time, my friend,” Selu replied. “I will be joining you. Bring spare survival vests for any crewmembers we find.”

“It shall be done,” the warrior told him, ending the transmission.

Selu turned to Admiral Cyrreso even as he pulled on an earpiece comlink and strapped a safety vest over his garments.

“I’m going to help on the Vigilant Refuge,” he said. “Take charge of the fleet. Don’t try and fight a decisive battle—fight to link up with the remnants of the fleet, and do what damage you can on the way.”

“It will be done,” she assured him as Selu strode out of the bridge.

The Jedi quickly made his way down to the hangar and commandeered a Javelin shuttle. Powering it up and followed by two more shuttles loaded with Yanibar Guard Marines, he soared out of the Lightbearer even as the 2800 meter warship and its attendant eighteen escorts pummeled the Yuuzhan Vong flagship, screening the Vigilant Refuge from further assault.

Selu swooped down towards the carrier even as the Shien-class assault frigate Righteous Bulwark pulled alongside the Vigilant Refuge. Its hangar bays slid open and dozens of armored warriors jumped out into the cold vacuum of space. Rocket packs on their backs lit up, propelling them towards the carrier as they dodged defensive fire from the Yuuzhan Vong boarding craft that were latched onto the ship. Selu’s field of vision lit up with a series of starbursts as plasma globules exploded around him. He returned fire with his nose lasers and missiles, lighting up several of the boarding craft even while weaving through the defensive volleys. The other shuttles followed his lead, but their piloting was not up to the caliber of a highly-trained Force-sensitive. One of took the brunt of a sustained plasma volley and exploded, and the other lost half a wing. Selu grimaced at the losses, but pressed forward. The Jalsinnare were now firing as well, using rocket launchers to pepper the boarding craft with dozens of homing missiles. Selu watched the missile trails spiral into the Yuuzhan Vong craft, causing them to erupt with angry-looking orange and red fireballs. One of the landing craft was particularly reinforced, and Selu saw several Jalsinnare warriors be completely burned away by its cannons. Gritting his teeth, Selu dove towards it, drawing the attention of its weapons even as he summoned the Force to tell him where the survivors on the carrier were.

“First Rank, you and the marines take the hangar,” Selu told him. “I sense some of our people alive in the forward sections of the ship. Link up with them and cover their retreat. I’m going for the bridge to rescue what’s left of the crew there. Send me a dozen of your warriors to help.”

“Acknowledged.”

Molten rock splattered against his ship’s shields, burning through in some places, but Selu was beyond caring. Telekinetically, he pulled a jet pack from a storage locker and strapped it on while flying with the other hand as he approached the carrier. He sprayed the Yuuzhan Vong shuttle with laser cannon fire, then suddenly rose from the pilot’s seat even as he locked the craft into a collision course. Pulling out his lightsabers, he ignited them both and carved a giant circle into the viewport with one swift gesture. His safety field activated automatically as the air rushed out, enclosing him in a protective pressurized bubble that enclosed him with several minutes of atmosphere. Running forward, Selu bounded up onto the control panel and leaped out of the newly-created hole even as his Javelin shuttle plunged into the Yuuzhan Vong craft, consuming it in a giant explosion. Selu propelled himself away from the collision, dodging debris as he rocketed towards the bridge. A dozen Jalsinnare warriors formed up around him, six of the heavily-armed and armored Reapers and six of the infiltration-specialist Banshees. Arms extended in front of him, Selu rocketed towards the bridge viewport at maximum speed.

“We’re going to punch a hole into the bridge and secure all survivors,” Selu told them.

Stretching out with his mind, Selu swept his arms out to his sides as he summoned the Force to himself, concentrating its power into his hands until they all but visibly glowed. Even as they hurtled towards the bridge viewport, Selu kept concentrating the power into one massive telekinetic burst. Then, twenty meters from impacting into the bridge, Selu hurled the Force energy he’d collected into the viewport. It shattered into a hundred pieces and despite the pressure wave that sought to push them back out into space, Selu’s telekinetic exertion forced them inward. With exquisite concentration, Selu guided their trajectories with the Force, sending the transparisteel shards flying into the walls and Yuuzhan Vong warriors rather than the few remaining crewmembers.

Selu dove into the bridge headfirst, using the Force to slow his descent. Shoulder-rolling upon impact, he came up with both lightsabers lit and blazing. Behind him, the Reapers unlimbered their repeating blasters and opened with deadly streams of blasterfire while the Banshees found each of the crewmembers and strapped safety vests onto them to protect them from the explosive decompression. Grimly facing the enemy, the Jedi Master brandished both his weapons and advanced.

Tsaruuk had been about to charge into the bridge when a warrior came sprinting down the corridor from behind.

“Great One!” the warrior shouted, heedless of protocol. “Great One!”

Tsaruuk knew instantly that something was wrong—no Yuuzhan Vong warrior would dare yell at a superior like that. He set aside protocol and turned to the warrior, knowing that the Yuuzhan Vong saw his words as so important that he was willing to die for them in order to get Tsaruuk’s attention as fast as possible.

“What is it?” he asked.

The warrior knelt before him and handed him a villip, then bared his neck in symbolic acceptance of his impending death. Tsaruuk took the villip and waved him up.

“If this is as important as you think it is, you are to be rewarded, not killed,” he chastised him even as he stroked the villip.

The living communicator everted to reveal the face of Azera Grath, his nominal third-in-command.

“What is it?” Tsaruuk demanded.

“Another hostile fleet has arrived! It has cut us off from the rest of our force and is bombarding the Bloodthirster,” the warrior reported tersely. “We tried to reach you but your villip is. . . not responding.”

Tsaruuk glanced down at the stub where the Jeedai had cut off the villip from his shoulder and realized he had been inadvertently cut from communications—an absolute cardinal sin for a battle fleet commander.

“How strong? Whose fleet is it?”

“Much stronger than the last one, and judging by the ship types, it appears to be from the same infidels as the force we just smashed. We can defeat them, but we will likely lose the Bloodthirster if we stand and fight. They are closing on your position rapidly.”

Tsaruuk scowled furiously as his mind raced to determine the proper course of action. He was paying the price for his own zeal for combat—had he remained on the bridge of Bloodthirster, he could have handled this situation deftly.

“Preserve our ships until we can gauge their strength,” Tsaruuk said. “Order the rest of the fleet to execute a fighting retreat. Gut them if they pursue, and bring in our Peace Brigade allies to protect the Bloodthirster. Sacrifice them if need be. Where is Kroi Taak?”

“He went down to the surface, Great One, to lead the assault there. What should be down about our landing parties?”

Tsaruuk grimaced. By withdrawing the fleet, he was leaving his landing forces behind, where the new arrivals could likely deal with them if they had brought ground troops.

“Recall the transports that have not landed yet. Those that have landed are to inflict as much damage as possible and disrupt the infidels on Rishi. Once we have achieved separation from the infidel fleets, we will reinforce them.”

Suddenly, Tsaruuk head a loud explosion, accompanied by the sound of glass shattering. He saw a warrior come flying out of the bridge to slam into a wall, crystalline shards impaling him in multiple places. The warrior coughed up black blood and gasped once.

“Jeedai,” he wheezed, then fell lifelessly to the deck.

Tsaruuk felt the air around him begin to blow out through the bridge—the infidels must have breached it. Grabbing a gnullith breathing creature, he slid it down his throat, supplying him with oxygen from the lungworm it was connected to. The other warriors around him followed suit. Thankfully, the boarding party had been equipped with vacuum oogliths and lungworms to withstand vacuum. Now a new sound greeted his ears—the sound of infidel weaponry and the humming that Tsaruuk had quickly come to associate with Jeedai lightsabers. He glanced around him—only a handful of warriors remained out of the thirty he had charged into the bridge with. Unsure of how many infidels had just arrived and knowing that his position was untenable, Tsaruuk knew that to fight them here, right now, would accomplish nothing.

“Fall back,” he ordered. “Fall back to the ships.”

Selu strode forward, his lightsabers flashing as he parried amphistaff blows and swatted thud bugs. He was fortunate enough to have fought the Yuuzhan Vong twice before on highly-secretive missions, and his experience served him well. He knew instinctively when to react to the sudden sprays of venom from the amphistaffs and was aware of their propensity to shift from flexible whip-like weapons to rigid staffs to cutting edges.

Spinning left towards a warrior, Selu launched an overhand combo, leading with his lightsaber. The slash, aimed right at the warrior’s head, was blocked, and Selu was forced to deflect the amphistaff’s tail with his shoto, but he continued his rotation into a spinning Force-empowered kick that rocked the warrior back. Before he could recover, Selu reversed his lightsaber and drove the tip into the warrior’s throat. The Yuuzhan Vong slid off the blade lifelessly as Selu and the Jalsinnare stormed the bridge.

The shattered viewport was soon sealed off as three of the Jalsinnare Banshees erected temporary force fields to preserve the air. Selu didn’t wait, though, pursuing the Yuuzhan Vong back through the ruined doors that led to the bridge.

Bursting into the corridor beyond, he found a quartet of Yuuzhan Vong clustered in ambush. They hurled a swarm of thud bugs and razor bugs at him. Time slowed down for Selu as he gave himself completely over to the Force, relying on it to guide and protect him. He leaped upward, lightsabers scything around him in coruscating arcs that incinerated the lethal flock of thrown weapons. Selu landed in their midst, slashing outward to force a defensive reaction.

The warriors quickly blocked his attack with their amphistaffs. The Jedi Master intentionally fell to the deck, kicking out with Force-enhanced strength to topple the legs out from under one warrior, only to then spring up and carve the arm off of another warrior caught off-guard by his agility. His danger sense tingled and he threw his upper body and head into an extreme backward lean, narrowly evading being cleaved by an amphistaff from a foe to his left. Righting himself, Selu caught the follow-up overhand strike with crossed lightsabers, then brought both feet up to plant themselves in the warrior’s midsection with tremendous force. The warrior flew back to slam into the wall with a bone-cracking impact. Selu recovered as the fourth warrior dove at him in a ferocious tackle brandishing a coufee knife.

Crouching, Selu met him low, using his arms to redirect the coufee’s thrust to the side and spinning the warrior off his hip to slam head-first into the wall. Reversing his lightsabers, Selu drove one into the skull of the first warrior he’d knocked to the ground while he stabbed the other warrior he’d deflected to eliminate that threat as well. His danger sense buzzed a warning in his mind again and Selu spun around, hurling both lightsabers. They caught the warrior he’d slammed into a wall in the abdomen, transfixing the Yuuzhan Vong in the process of charging him. The warrior’s features froze, locked in an expression of eternal hatred, then he collapsed and fell over dead. Selu summoned his lightsabers back to himself with the Force and continued his pursuit, while the Jalsinnare followed in his wake.

Using a mirror to see around a corner into the atrium where the Yanibar Guard defenders had briefly held off the Yuuzhan Vong boarding parties, Selu noticed six warriors lying in wait, ready to throw some kind of eel at any intruder who emerged through the door. Not as willing to dive into this ambush, Selu opted for a different tactic. Noticing the wreckage of the droidekas on the opposite side of the room, Selu got a mental grip on the heavy metal debris. Then he hurled it across the atrium with as much force and speed as he could conjure. There was a sound like insects being squished, along with alien cries. Unsure if he’d eliminated the threat and with his mental grip retained, Selu telekinetically crushed the bronzium housing that had contained the droideka's reactor. The bulbous metal casing burst, causing a small explosion. Selu waited a few seconds for the heat to dissipate, then charged in, weapons at the ready. To his satisfaction, there were six crushed and charred Yuuzhan Vong warrior corpses in one corner.

Selu had battled through another three ambush points when suddenly he sensed a friendly presence in the Force. He made its way toward the origin of the presence and soon found himself entering what had once been the officer’s laundry facilities where Treysk’atha, Master Zamara’s apprentice, was crouched along with six Yanibar Guard commandos with weapons pointed at the door, though it appeared several were wounded.

Seeing no immediate threat, Selu extinguished his weapons.

“Master Kraen, it’s good to see you,” the Bothan said. “Myself and these commandos were cut off from the bridge and when we lost the atrium, I feared all was lost.”

“You did well to escape away from the boarding parties,” Selu told him.

“That was mostly Colonel Kraen’s work,” Treysk’atha replied, gesturing at one of the commandos. “I was surprised he knew the ship’s layout better than I did.”

“Well done, Bryndar,” Selu complimented him. “The Jalsinnare are securing the rest of the ship and the fleet is holding off the Yuuzhan Vong in space. We need to get you out of here and me to whichever auxiliary bridge is still working.”

“We’re not retaking the ship?”

“Too badly damaged. We won’t be able to keep up with the fleet in the Vigilant Refuge if we need to maneuver. There is one last thing we can do with it, though.”

Bryndar nodded sagely.

“I think I know what you mean. I can take you to the auxiliary bridge.”

“Treysk’atha, stay here with the wounded,” Selu told the Bothan Jedi, handing him a comlink. “Contact the Jalsinnare and have them evacuate you.”

“Yes Master Kraen,” Treysk’atha acknowledged as Selu turned to Bryndar.

“Let’s go.”

Bryndar brought his blaster rifle up to his shoulder and nodded curtly, beckoning the three other unhurt commandos to follow him. With Selu in the lead, they slipped out through the door, ready for any danger.

Tsaruuk was flanked by a party of six warriors as he swiftly made his way through the hated non-living corridors of the infidel ship. With main power cut off, only flickering emergency lights illuminated the vessel, plunging the hallways into an eerie half-darkness. Everything here was cold and dead, not vibrant and alive like a true spacecraft should be. Here and there, emergency bulkheads had slammed shut, sealing off depressurized compartments to prevent the whole ship from having its atmosphere vented. The hard angles and corners of the architecture were unnatural and alien to him, an unpleasing aesthetic to someone accustomed to being surrounded by the harmonious irregularity of living ships. Here and there, the signs of battle—scorches from infidel weapons, mixed with bloodstains and craters from thud bug impacts, pockmarked the walls—while bodies of slain infidels were strewn on the floor, their blood staining the metal corridors. Tsaruuk saw several Yuuzhan Vong bodies too, and while he would have greatly preferred to retrieve them for proper burial, his pragmatism kept him from issuing such an order. His warriors could not be burdened with extra cargo in case they were fighting. Or could they?

As they approached the hangar bay where his landing craft had breached the infidel ship’s hull, Tsaruuk ordered two of his warriors to pick up the next two Yuuzhan Vong corpses they found. The warriors gave him puzzled looks, but complied obediently, slinging the bodies over their shoulders as they hustled back. As they approached the hangar bay, Tsaruuk called a halt.

“Stand up one of the bodies,” Tsaruuk ordered.

One of the warriors did as ordered, holding the body upright with the aid of one of his comrades.

“Now give me your amphistaff.”

The order was obeyed, but none of the warriors were expecting Tsaruuk to stab the corpse under its left shoulder blade with his newly-acquired weapon. Tsaruuk ran his own weapon through the corpse under its right shoulder blade. He could see confusion and anger awash in the faces of his warriors, but one look silenced them.

“The infidels may have set up an ambush here, seeking to cut us off from our ships,” Tsaruuk explained. “We are few, we must be cautious. The last thing this fallen warrior can do is to tell us if the way is clear.”

The warriors grumbled still, but seemed mostly assuaged by his reasoning. Tsaruuk thrust the amphistaffs forward, pushing the upright dead body into the door in a crude imitation of Yuuzhan Vong walking. Immediately, it was pierced by multiple slugs that tore through its chest, followed by a spray of blaster bolts that burned away the torso further.

Tsaruuk removed the amphistaffs to let the corpse collapse on the deck and smiled grimly.

“What a surprise. A trap,” he uttered.

“Now what, Great One?” a warrior asked him.

Tsaruuk’s smile broadened.

“We spring the trap.”

At his command, the warriors hurled several blast bugs into the hangar. The humming insects would seek out targets, but were relatively slow and a competent foe could kill them with their infidel weapons before they would likely finish off all the targets with their explosions. Their main purpose was as a distraction. The sound of infidel weapons erupted from inside the hangar. Two warriors remained behind, laden with extra bugs for throwing, while the rest of the warriors moved back through a previous-encountered chamber that had been sealed off to vacuum. Tsaruuk melted a sizeable hole through the bulkhead with acid and clambered through the newly-created breach out into space.

“Our amphistaffs and lungworms will not last long in vacuum, not long enough to get us back to the Bloodthirster,” a warrior pointed.

“I have no intention of attempting such a thing,” Tsaruuk corrected him. “We shall cleave a path through the infidels attempting to ambush us back to our ships.”

Floating out, Tsaruuk grabbed ahold of a protrusion on the metal skin of the ship and pulled himself along, with four warriors in his wake. Carefully, they crawled along the exterior of the hangar bay, using their amphistaffs, coufees, and claws to anchor themselves to the ship in order to avoid floating away. In short order, the five Yuuzhan Vong had reached the ceiling of the exterior entrance to the hangar. Peering down past the edge of entrance to look inside from his upside-down perch, Tsaruuk saw four lithe-looking infidels in full armor with long rifles stationed at various positions around the hangar, their weapons bracketing the doorways. One was perched on top of a Yuuzhan Vong yorik-trema landing craft, while two were crouched behind debris that had once been a pair of service speeders used for quickly ferrying infidel equipment to service their machine fighters. The fourth had clambered up a column that was anchored against the exterior wall and was held there by some kind of cable. Another four infidels in bulkier suits of armor—one of them particularly reinforced and dangerous-looking—were crouched on the floor of the hangar bay closer to the entrance, weapons trained on it as well.

Tsaruuk waved a silent series of signal to his warriors, pointing out the snipers and assigning targets, and giving special instructions to the one last warrior. They nodded in acknowledgement and began crawling spider-like across the ceiling of the hangar. Tsaruuk wrapped both of his amphistaffs around his arms and followed suit. The flurry of bugs from the doorway was drawing the attention of the infidels and confusing any forms of sensor they had. The Yuuzhan Vong ooglith cloakers also helped hide their infrared signatures and they bore virtually nothing that was metal or produced an electric field, allowing the warriors to approach the snipers unseen. Tsaruuk clambered across the ceiling until he was above the pair of snipers behind the debris pile. He glanced across the hangar to see the rest of his warriors in position. Tsaruuk made a curt chopping motion with his hand and then dropped from the ceiling, uncoiling the amphistaffs from his arms and extending them out spear-like in front of him.

He fell like a thunderbolt from the ceiling, landing squarely on the shoulders of one Jalsinnare Banshee with crushing force, toppling her to the ground. Her companion was immediately impaled by the amphistaffs that were carefully aimed to drive through the weaker armor at the neck and she died after only a few brief death spasms. Amazingly, the Jalsinnare he had landed upon was still alive and struggling. She managed to roll him off and draw a knife despite whatever injuries he’d inflicted to her already. She stabbed upward, but he caught her wrist and forced it aside. Separated from his amphistaffs, Tsaruuk contented himself with emptying the rest of his metal-eating acid on her faceplate while he held her wrist aside. Several messy seconds later, she was no longer a threat.

Across the hangar, Tsaruuk’s warriors had efficiently dealt with the other two Jalsinnare Banshees. However, the heavier-armored Reapers now realized the threat in their midst. Tsaruuk withdrew his amphistaffs from the slain sniper and leapt aside as a rocket exploded where he’d just been crouching. Rolling to his feet behind cover, he saw the four Reapers standing in a square formation, firing rockets and blasters at the Yuuzhan Vong warriors surrounding them.

Tsaruuk’s eyes darted back and forth, his mind calculating and anticipating at lightspeed to determine the tactic he needed to deal with these four death-spewing infidel monsters. He signaled his warriors even as he withdrew a pair of plasma eels from the living holder strapped to his back. Lunging out from the safety of the pillar he’d ducked behind, he threw both of his eels and was satisfied to see the infidel warriors separate to avoid the bright blue explosions. They rocketed away on jet packs. Two of them used their new found altitude advantage to blast one of his warriors with a pair of rockets, killing that Yuuzhan Vong. In response, the warrior Tsaruuk had given special instructions to dropped down from the ceiling where he’d remained concealed, jumping onto the infidel warrior. His flying companion turned and tried to use his flamethrower, but apparently forgot the weapon was useless in vacuum. The warrior astride the flying infidel slapped a pair of blast bugs onto the helmet of the infidel, then leapt off and fell to the hangar floor several meters below. The resulting explosion killed the Jalsinnare and sent his body tumbling across the hangar, jet packs still firing, causing the other two Jalsinnare to leap and evade.

The other flying Jalsinnare avenged his comrade by blasting away with dual streams of violet blaster fire that were too much even for vonduun crab armor. The warrior twitched and writhed as he was pierced by a dozen violet blaster bolts, but the flying Jalsinnare was now close to Tsaruuk and had his back facing him. Kneeling down, the Yuuzhan Vong warrior gave a telepathic command that sent two miniature versions of the starship-eating grutchin insects flying from where they’d been implanted on his back. The creatures darted forward and latched onto the flying Jalsinnare warrior, using their acid-secreting mandible to chew through his armor and into the soft flesh underneath. Within seconds, he too had fallen to the deck and was soon dead. His screams reassured Tsaruuk that there were infidels inside the armor abominations, not merely machines.

As the two warriors who had created the diversion rushed in, Tsaruuk and his four remaining warriors circled around the two Jalsinnare who now fought back to back, blazing away. Several blaster bolts from their heavy repeating blasters creased and charred his vonduun crab armor, but he managed to avoid any serious impacts as he wove evasively, hurling thud and blast bugs with reckless abandon. Within seconds, he had exhausted his ammunition, and another warrior was down. Frowning, Tsaruuk waved another signal as he hurled his last blast bug. The two Jalsinnare, however, had to constantly turn to keep from being swarmed and Tsaruuk saw an opening. With a flying leap, he dove towards the Jalsinnare and hooked one amphistaff whiplike around the Jalsinnare’s left arm and yanked it up and to the side, diverting the lethal stream of blaster bolts upward to harmlessly char against the metal ceiling. Metal vibroblades retracted from wrist sleeves, but the Tsaruuk was not about to give the Jalsinnare a chance to use them. Even as the infidel’s powered armor started to break his grip, Tsaruuk commanded the other amphistaff to form a rigid blade and thrust it into the weaker underarm joint on the Jalsinnare. The living weapon pierced the armor, but not deeply, so Tsaruuk drew his last weapon, a coufee, and rammed it into the Jalsinnare’s body alongside the amphistaff. This time, his attack was deeper, plunging through the Jalsinnare’s rib cage and into his heart. Tsaruuk started to leap aside, only to hear the sound of the other Jalsinnare yelling in anger. Too close to be hit by his weaponry, Tsaruuk was nevertheless back-handed by a metal arm that hit his head and hurled him away several meters to skid across the debris-littered deck.

The last Jalsinnare was charged by two of the remaining warriors in an imitation of Tsaruuk’s tactic. However, despite being distracted by smashing Tsaruuk, the Jalsinnare quickly recovered. Using his heavy repeating blaster as a blunt weapon, he knocked aside both of the warrior’s attacks and sent them staggering back from the force of the impact. Grabbing one, the Jalsinnare slammed him into a wall and then planted the three barrels of his repeating blaster against his stomach, holding down the trigger. The warrior coughed up black blood as his midsection was obliterated by point-blank repeating blasterfire. The other warrior had partially recovered from being struck by the Jalsinnare, who threw aside his heavy weapon and brandished dual wristblades that had emerged from his armored gauntlets. The Yuuzhan Vong counter-attacked with amphistaff, but the Jalsinnare’s armor shrugged off the stab attempts and the warrior didn’t have Tsaruuk’s tactical precision. Within seconds, the Jalsinnare had tackled the warrior to the ground, wrapped his arm around his neck in a crushing headlock and sawed off the warrior’s head.

Stunned and possibly with a fractured skull from the blow he’d sustained, even through vonduun crab armor, Tsaruuk struggled to his feet to see the Jalsinnare straighten, holding the severed Yuuzhan Vong head.

“Infidel, tell me your name and I will tell you mine,” he shouted in heavily-accented Basic as he managed to retrieve one of his amphistaffs. “You have fought well, worthy of receiving the honor of dueling a warrior of the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“I am First Rank Staroth of the Jalsinnare,” the infidel shouted back from inside his machine-armor ten meters away, tossing aside the warrior’s head and pointing a wristblade at Tsaruuk. “You’re going to pay for the lives you took here.”

“I am Tsaruuk, commander of the fleet that will soon crush your force and conquer this pathetic planet,” Tsaruuk replied, wielding his amphistaff. “ How appropriate that two leaders met this way. Let us fight as true warriors should—as best as you can for an infidel.”

“Vong honor be damned,” Staroth replied, unlimbering the rocket launcher strapped to his back.

Tsaruuk leapt aside just in time to escape the lethal radius of the concussion. Shrapnel showered him and felt the heat and shock wave burn away at his legs, but the vonduun crab armor protected him. Tsaruuk sprang to his feet and circled around to the left, but Staroth would not allow himself to be flanked and mirrored his motion. Another rocket shot forward and again Tsaruuk made a desperate leap to evade the weapon. Apparently out of missiles, Staroth abandoned the launcher and pointed his right arm at Tsaruuk, firing a wrist-blaster at him. Tsaruuk dodged the first blast but the second and third struck him in the chest, searing partially through the vonduun crab armor and sending him staggering back. He rolled away again to the left, causing the fourth blast to crease his thigh. Staroth relented for a brief second as he continued to circle away from Tsaruuk to maintain the separation.

“After the death you’ve caused and no doubt planned to do, I will enjoy watching you die.”

He aimed his weapon at Tsaruuk again, who snarled at him.

“I gave you the choice for honorable combat,” he said, as a blaster bolt took him in the chest and doubled him over as it burned most of the way through his armor.

Straightening up, he glared at Staroth, who carefully lined up a final killshot on the persistent Yuuzhan Vong.

“Since you are as dishonorable and cowardly as the rest of the infidels, then you can die by your own methods,” Tsaruuk growled, making a sharp chopping motion with hand.

Now directly behind the Jalsinnare due to Tsaruuk’s circling, the parked Yuuzhan Vong yorik-trema’s plasma cannons erupted, hurling a sizable molten shard of magma at First Rank Staroth. It exploded at his feet and hurled him limply across the hangar floor with the concussion wave. A second shot from the cannon struck the Jalsinnare one more time, to ensure his death. There was no response from the smoldering pile of armor, so Tsaruuk staggered over to the landing craft. Upon reaching the cockpit, he found the last warrior seated with a cognition hood over his head to control the ship, the one he had sent into the vessel to secure their escape. The one who had been instructed to use the ship’s weapons if an opportunity presented itself to use them without revealing that the landing craft was operational.

“Get us an escort from Bloodthirster and get us out of here,” Tsaruuk ordered the warrior.

He complied and the yorik-trema lifted away from the stricken infidel vessel. As Tsaruuk watched a swarm of coralskippers close in around the ship protectively, he wondered if the infidel leader he had killed had realized how he’d been baited into a trap by Tsaruuk’s circling before he died. Then he snapped his mind back to the present—there was still battle raging in space and he could not afford to be distracted by his own appreciation for his tactics. The sooner he was back on Bloodthirster and commanding his ships, the better.

Jasika wheeled her battered starfighter around and nosed the craft into formation alongside the rest of Paladin Squadron. Her ship had already sustained significant damage, but it—and she—could still fight.

“All right, listen up,” came the voice of the starfighter coordinator who had assumed responsibility for the Paladins after the fall of the Vigilant Refuge. “We’re going to do a two-stage microjump to link up with the YGF relief force. If your hyperdrive is offline, break to outside the system and we’ll send recovery shuttles. Stick together, and don’t get picked off.”

Jasika clicked her comlink in acknowledgment and input the numbers into her navicomputer. To her dismay, the device whirred unsettlingly. The text and symbols on the screen flickered into gibberish several times and failed to resolve themselves into the familiar indications of successful course calculation.

“One, this is Twelve, my navicomp’s not responding.”

“Sit this one out then, Twelve,” Paladin Lead told her. “Head to the rendezvous point and wait for pickup.”

“I think I can—,” she started, but Paladin Lead cut her off.

“Not this time, Twelve. There’ll be another chance.”

Fuming, Jasika obediently vectored in the direction of the rendezvous point with several other starfighters, protected by a formation of four undamaged Shotos. On her sensor screen, she watched the rest of the battle unfold.

The original force sent to Rishi was able to disengage from the main Yuuzhan Vong force and link up with the relief fleet with its two microjumps. The Yuuzhan Vong fleet, unable or unwilling to make a similar maneuver, took several crucial minutes to reinforce its beleaguered flagship. A swarm of coralskippers flocked around the Vigilant Refuge, apparently escorting something, but while they were pursued, the sudden arrival of a sizeable Peace Brigade force around the flagship distracted the Yanibar Guard Fleet. Though outgunned heavily by the Yanibar Guard Fleet, they drew the most attention. Their ranks were quickly shattered, with dozens of ships obliterated by the combined Yanibar Guard Fleet formation. Jasika was confused as to why the Peace Brigade were targeted over the more dangerous Yuuzhan Vong. In the process, the coralskipper formation was able to escape to the Yuuzhan Vong flagship which had been sidled up to the Vigilant Refuge. To her surprise, the damaged carrier lumbered over to the combined Yuuzhan Vong and Peace Brigade formation and exploded in an apparent self-destruct, claiming several more ships in the process. With such severe losses, the battered Yuuzhan Vong flagship and the tattered remnants of the Peace Brigade force withdrew, as did the main body of their fleet. Jasika was surprised—she had expected the Yuuzhan Vong to fight to the bitter end once the rest of their fleet arrived to engage, but they had apparently decided not to force a decisive engagement that would only end in a bloodbath for both sides. She bit her lip nervously—knowing that Bryndar might still be in the midst of the fighting or possibly—no, she couldn’t even think that thought.

“Heard we had some empty birds looking for a nest,” the voice of another starfighter coordinator broke into the relative silence in her cockpit. “Come on back to the fleet and we’ll find some roosts for you.”

Jasika acknowledged the order and headed back, where she was soon directed to land in the Lightbearer’s massive hangar.

“Jasika,” she heard the voice of Selu Kraen crackle in her headset. “Glad you’re okay. Bryndar’s fine, just a little beat up. I’ve told him you’re okay as well.”

Jasika sighed with relief, then managed to find her voice to reply.

“Thank you, Master Kraen,” she said. “Can I see him?”

Selu’s voice sounded strained.

“I’ve got a lot to handle right now, Jasika. Perhaps you should try contacting him yourself once your duties allow you to.”


 * Rishi

The howling wail of alarms had awoken Ryion in the middle of the night. He glanced at the wall chrono and saw it was a few hours before sunrise. Immediately, he rolled out of bed and pulled on his shirt. Heading for the door, he opened it to see Shara standing there as if about to knock, a worried expression on her face.

“We’re under attack,” Ryion surmised.

“A massive Yuuzhan Vong fleet is attacking your forces in orbit,” she told him breathlessly. “Colonel Klivian is leading all available fighters and ships to assist.”

She was clutching a cloth sack in her hands; remembering it, she looked down and then presented it to him. Ryion accepted the proffered bundle and was unsurprised to see his lightsaber. The weapon’s grip felt good in his hand. Stepping away from Shara, he lit the blade and twirled it around experimentally. The motion was natural, seamlessly smooth, as it should be. Satisfied, Ryion extinguished the blade and followed Shara to the war room in the basement of the governor’s mansion where he watched a holographic feed of the clash in orbit, standing to the side and saying nothing, aside from a curt nod to Kyle Katarn and the governor.

As Commodor Arystek’s fleet was savaged, his brow furrowed into a deep frown. The Force told him of the hundreds dying in orbit. He sensed Master Zamara die. The sensation of the deaths of people he had encouraged to be placed in harm’s way ate away at his resolve, and Ryion finally had to cut himself off from the Force so as to not allow the pain to seep into his mind and ruin the composure he felt certain he would need very soon.

“What are those?” Shara asked over the quiet murmurs of the defense officers watching the battle unfold.

She was pointing to a sizable swarm of red dots disgorged from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet and now entering a terminal orbit.

“Landing craft, my lady,” Kyle told her. “Looks like they’re heading for all the major cities, probably several thousand warriors for each one.”

Shara paled, not daring to say any more.

“Governor,” Ryion spoke up. “My team and I found a member of your staff who is in the employ of the Yuuzhan Vong. He was the one who set up the ambush on Shara. This entire mansion is compromised—I suggest an evacuation. Do you have transports or an escape route?”

“Not at the mansion,” the governor replied worriedly. “There’s a landing pad that can accommodate a small ship, but we don’t have one here.”

“I suggest you evacuate all the staff you can,” Ryion told him. “And then find us a ship. It won’t be safe here for long.”

“We can handle that,” Jan Ors spoke up. “I can get the Raven’s Claw and bring it over here.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kyle volunteered.

“No,” she replied curtly. “You’ll be needed here.”

He glared at her obstinately.

“We know the Vong will be coming here. I can get to the Claw and lift off before they seal off the entire spaceport, and you’re not much help against coralskippers,” she told him.

“Woman, every time you do this to me, you end up getting hurt or captured.”

She reached up to affectionately brush her hand across his cheek.

“I’ll be okay. Buy them the time they need and have everyone at the landing pad.”

“Will do,” Kyle said begrudgingly. “Get going, and Force be with you.”

She nodded and raced out the door, with the Jedi gazing after her. Finally, Kyle turned back to face Ryion.

“I haven’t seen you in action, but word has it that you’re pretty handy in a fight. That true?”

“I can handle myself,” Ryion replied.

“Can you handle fighting alongside a Jedi?”

Ryion smiled at him.

“I think I can handle that, Katarn,” he said.

Kyle turned to the governor.

“We’re going to need as many of your security forces and armed staff covering the entrances and exits. Myself and Matrik here will go where we’re needed. Make sure you have plenty of people covering the landing pad at the rear of the mansion.”

“We’ll take care of it, Master Jedi,” the governor promised, though his voice was quavering.

“Get all the non-essential staff out of here, now!” Kyle ordered. “It’s time to go.”

The bearded Jedi turned to Ryion.

“Knowing the Vong, they’ll probably attack somewhere obvious and in force.”

“Front door?”

“Front door.”

“Meet you there,” Ryion said, striding off quickly.

As he walked to the front door, he opened himself to the Force again, sending a mental summons to Morgedh, Qedai, and Zeyn. Hopefully they would be close enough to receive his message and react appropriately. Ryion stood at the top of a broad flight of steps that overlooked the walled courtyard in front of the governor’s mansion. Looking up into the dawn’s early glimmers, he could see tiny dots slowly resolve themselves into bug-shaped craft descending on the city. Within minutes, several of them closed in on the governor’s mansion. Ryion stretched himself lightly, preparing his body and mind for combat. A pair of coralskippers soared low over the building, splattering its roof with burning hot plasma fire. Two of the yorik-tremas came in on a close approach, apparently intent on setting down inside the courtyard. A fusillade of blaster rifle bolts shot from the windows where a number of guards had been stationed, but they either were absorbed by the dovin basals or merely inflicted cosmetic damage on the sturdy yorik coral.

However, Ryion had other plans. Summoning the Force, he levitated a pair of speeder bikes from where they had been parked. Gesturing expressively, he hurled them forward at the landing craft. The one on his left took the bike like a spear into its side where it exploded violently. The landing craft wobbled and then collapsed the last fifty meters to land just outside of the courtyard wall, sending up a sizeable dust cloud. The other landing craft deflected part of the impact with a dovin basal, and was able to make a more controlled landing, opting to also land outside the wall in the face of the sudden resistance.

“Hold fire,” Ryion shouted behind him. “Let me draw their attention first. Wait for my signal.”

Within seconds, the outer doors to the courtyard were broken down and Yuuzhan Vong warriors came spilling through. Ryion lit his lightsaber and swept it up to a salute as he slowly walked down the stairs to face him. The warriors gaped at him for a minute, and he snapped the blade down and to the right, away from him. With his left arm extended, Ryion beckoned to the Yuuzhan Vong to come at him. They obliged, just as Ryion swept his left arm back as the Force filled him. Behind him, pieces of the stone steps cracked and tore free to fly at the oncoming wave of warriors. His right arm was guided by the Force, cleaving his lightsaber through the air to bat away dozens of incoming bugs. The Yuuzhan Vong roared and charged, but the volley of rock knocked many of them to the ground and their hordes of thrown missiles had no impact against Ryion’s efficient defense. Recognizing that they were having no effect, the warriors redoubled their efforts to close the gap, scrambling forward. Ryion slowed his telekinetic assault as he’d already torn most of the stone stairs away, allowing the Yuuzhan Vong to form a semicircle around him.

He was calm, his face impassive in light of battle. There were no more decisions. No more worries about what might happen. No more doubts. He was here, irrevocably committed to battle. As he stared expressionless at the two dozen snarling Yuuzhan Vong warriors closing in on him, a thought struck him in the Force and it caused him to smirk. Suddenly, with a shout, they lunged in unison, amphistaffs extending, spraying poison.

Ryion had a surprise of his own, though. Concentrating the Force through his body, he channeled its pure energy into white-hot lightning coalescing into an orb of crackling sparks in the palm of his left hand. Satisfied that his foes were close enough, he opened that palm, thrusting it forward at the massed warriors. The lightning bolts engulfed the warriors, searing their bodies and vaporizing the thrown weapons and streams of venom. An energy storm that would have rendered humans unconscious with severe burns, the Force lightning served to only momentarily stagger the Yuuzhan Vong. Ryion, feeling the energy burn out of him at a prodigious rate, ceased the barrage after a few seconds, wary of depleting his strength too quickly.

The Yuuzhan Vong writhed and twitched for several seconds, then regained control of themselves and charged.

“Now!” Ryion shouted as he backflipped away from them.

Blaster bolts issued from every windows as the guards opened up. The Yuuzhan Vong returned fire with thrown bugs while many of them charged after Ryion, who finally took up a two-handed grip on his lightsaber and committed himself to the melee.

His blade danced and sparked, blocking two or three amphistaffs with each strike as he wove an elaborate, efficient defensive cage of light around himself with the blade. Though he was slowly forced back and inflicted few injuries on the Yuuzhan Vong, Ryion could not afford even minor wounds when standing alone against so many foes.

And then suddenly he was not alone. In a flying leap from an upper-floor window, Kyle Katarn came crashing into the fight from above. Mid-air, the Jedi hurled a pair of spheres into the press that exploded in red and orange fireballs, consuming a dozen warriors each. Then his green lightsaber blade was lit as he landed, scything through startled Yuuzhan Vong around him. Ryion suddenly switched tactics, giving himself completely over to the Force and embracing what Depa had taught him, the deadly art of Vaapad.

His lightsaber was in a dozen places at once, knocking away amphistaffs, parrying coufees, severing fingers and hands and legs and heads, scoring deep gouges in vonduun crab armor. The weapon was like a living creature with a mind of its own that happened to be connected to Ryion’s arm, and it battled with an insane ferocity that Ryion had never before experienced. Channeling the Force completely into Vaapad, Ryion found himself facing his fears and worries and anger even as he cut deeply into the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong. Rather than seal himself off from them, or shunt them away as Jedi were so fond of doing, Ryion embraced them. They were as much a part of himself as any other aspect of his personality and he funneled them into the superconducting loop that was Vaapad. There was no cadence, no rhythm. Vaapad’s motions were too staccato, too unpredictable. He was constantly, erratically switching between agile and static, throwing multiple fast strikes that were punctuated by power sweeps and stabs. There was seemingly no method to his attacks, yet they were curiously effective despite his inability to sense the intentions of the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force. Warriors fell away in the face of his irrepressible swordsmanship, wounded and dying in many cases.

Ryion soon fought his way to Kyle Katarn, standing atop the ruins of the stairs and battling side-by-side against a wave of foes. Somewhere, the Jedi had picked up a combat vest, blaster pistol, and several detonators. More landing craft descended beyond the courtyard wall, spilling ever more Yuuzhan Vong to take the place of those who had fallen. The Yuuzhan Vong fought voraciously and many sought to clamber past the two Force-users to clamber into the governor’s mansion. The first few were repulsed and then more scrambled forward to stab and hack at the guards.

“They’re getting through,” Kyle remarked, sweat pouring down from his face as he ducked under an amphistaff blow and ran a Yuuzhan Vong through with his lightsaber.

“I see that,” Ryion replied even as his lightsaber sliced through the legs of one Yuuzhan Vong then slashed upward to cleave off another’s arm at the shoulder.

Shunting a fraction of his concentration into telekinesis, Ryion used his mind to snatch the remaining detonators from Katarn’s belt and fling them at the Yuuzhan Vong rushing towards the windows. The chain of explosions bought a brief respite for the dwindling guards, hurling back numerous slain or maimed Yuuzhan Vong.

“Hey, did I say you could use those?” Kyle asked, his swordplay slower and more methodical, but just as effective as Ryion’s in holding off the Yuuzhan Vong advance.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t,” Ryion remarked.

“You’re pretty fast,” Kyle told him, blocking an amphistaff high only to use his left hand to pull his blaster, plant it against the torso of the warrior and hold down the trigger point-blank until the warrior fell, gushing black blood from his ruined midsection.

“And you’re sneaky,” Ryion told him, driving a Force-empowered elbow into a warrior’s throat only to then drop to his knees and stab upwards, slaying his foe as well even as he whipped his lightsaber back out to defend against the relentless onslaught.

“Well, thank you, but how much longer can my sneakiness and your speed hold them off?” Kyle asked, sweat pouring down his face.

“How long is it going to take your girlfriend to get here?” Ryion asked even as an amphistaff tip slid down his calf, opening a gash there.

“Probably longer than it will for your friends to get here,” Katarn remarked. “Don’t act so surprised, I sensed that mental summons. For someone who’s not a Jedi, you have a fair amount of skill.” “Thanks, I think,” Ryion replied, then found himself too heavily pressed for further conversation.

The Yuuzhan Vong hemmed him in, hacking and stabbing away. A thud bug slipped through his guard to impact heavily against his left shoulder. An explosion of pain tore through the muscles there, but he gritted his teeth and shunted away the sensation with the Force. The warriors seemed to keep streaming in no matter how many he cut down, with more landing craft setting down by the moment as the Yuuzhan Vong directed more forces towards the stubborn defenders. The number of blaster bolts assisting their defense continued to diminish as the Yuuzhan Vong whittled away at the guards. Suddenly, a landing craft hovered overhead, dropping warriors down directly on top of the Jedi. Caught off guard, Kyle was born to the ground by one’s grasping arm that tore deep furrows into his combat vest. Ryion immediately whipped his lightsaber back and slashed the warrior’s throat, but more were falling down, howling and with weapons at the ready. Reacting instinctively, Kyle slammed his hand against the ground and unleashed a furious Force whirlwind that hurled all the Yuuzhan Vong near them back.

“I don’t suppose you can keep that up for another thirty minutes,” Ryion gasped, panting with exertion as he impaled another falling warrior.

“Not a chance,” Kyle said, batting away two more thud bugs.

Ryion glanced back and saw that only a few scattered shots were still being fired from the windows. Even as he deflected missiles, he hauled Katarn to his feet.

“Time to go then.”

Ryion and Kyle backed up slowly through the main doors into the atrium. The Yuuzhan Vong charged after them. Kyle smirked, waited until a half dozen were through, then collapsed the doorway on them with the Force, burying them with rubble.

“Almost better than a landmine,” he said.

However, the Yuuzhan Vong soon poured through the windows, charging after the Jedi, who were forced into a fighting retreat, incinerating thrown bugs as they fell back. Kyle saw several plasma eels hurled over the heads of the press at them as they entered the ballroom that had been the site of a festive party only a few short weeks ago.

“Jump!” he shouted.

Ryion complied, but realized he had jumped away from Kyle as he shoulder-rolled and came back up on one knee, already incinerating thrown bugs on his lightsaber blade while the plasma eels exploded harmlessly behind him. A new wave of missiles suddenly arced down towards him from the second-floor causeway that ran around the circumference of the room as warriors descended from the roof, forcing him to redouble his defense against the multi-vector assault. “Could use a little help here!” Kyle shouted as he was slowly overwhelmed by the furious hail of missiles.

“You got it,” Ryion told him as several new Force signatures registered in very close proximity. The ceiling above them exploded and three new figures dropped in. As they fell, silver spheres shot out from their hands to explode among the Yuuzhan Vong clustered on the second floor walkway. Qedai, Morgedh, and Zeyn landed smoothly behind Kyle and Ryion with weapons at the ready and quickly filled the gap between them. “What took you so long?” Ryion asked them.

“We had to deal with a landing craft trying to drop warriors on your head,” Qedai explained. “It’s too bad you can’t throw those things with the Force. It would have made a great slingball.”

With the arrival of additional reinforcements, the Force-users were able to repel the Yuuzhan Vong with greater ease. At first, their opponents were dismayed by the sudden arrival of more extremely capable foes, but soon the legendary bloodlust of the Yuuzhan Vong overtook them and they charged as relentless as ever, heedless of the fact they were charging over their own dead and wounded. Four lightsabers danced back and forth, while Qedai alternated between telekinetically hurling furniture and using her discblades from behind them to wreak havoc.

“Kyle, this is Jan. I’m coming in,” Kyle’s comlink crackled. “There’s a lot of dropships by your location and I have coralskippers in pursuit.”

“Good to hear that,” Kyle said. “Get whoever is on the landing pad and get out of there.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine, but we’re going to have to take the scenic route to buy you some more time,” Kyle reported.

“What?!”

“Don’t argue with me, Jan! Not this time! Me and the other Force-users have a chance of getting out alive on our own. The others don’t. They need you.”

“It’s going to be a moot point with all those skips on my tail,” Jan objected.

“I can take care of the coralskippers,” Qedai said, overhearing their conversation.

“Do it,” Morgedh told her.

She nodded, then vaulted up through the hole she had helped make in the roof. Then Ryion sensed a blazing disturbance in the Force. He felt his father, felt dozens more Force-sensitives arrive. They weren’t very close, but definitely in system.

“Whoa, what was that?” Kyle asked. “More friends of yours?”

“Something like that,” Ryion answered as he ducked under a vicious punch and slashed off the warrior’s arm in response. “Let’s hope some of them make their way down here.”

“They will find us,” Morgedh responded coolly as he waded further into the fray, intentionally drawing the attention of more Yuuzhan Vong. “Daara is coming.”

The Noghri’s small frame and exposed position immediately incited the Yuuzhan Vong to swarm him, but his Ataru and Soresu bladework, while unable to compete with the raw power and ferocity of Vaapad, was far more skilled and precise. Within seconds, he was surrounded by a ring of dead Yuuzhan Vong despite having never fought them before. Ryion was amazed at how lethal Yanibar’s greatest warrior was, as Morgedh made the art of battle look effortless. His blade, shorter than Zeyn’s or Ryion’s, was a blur of golden light that inflicted deep wounds with each slash and stab, and turned every amphistaff or coufee directed at him. Incredulously, the lithe Noghri warrior advanced into the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong, now leaping off warriors and tumbling through others. His very presence was a disruption, breaking the cohesion of their assault as they sought to overwhelm the incredibly lethal killer in their midst. He was like a tornado in the midst of a forest, tossing warriors and parts of warriors with unstoppable force. Then, right in their midst, as the warriors piled in on Morgedh, he leaped clear even as Ryion and Zeyn dropped more pieces of roof down on the tightly-packed Yuuzhan Vong, crushing them.

The danger sense of the Jedi suddenly tingled and they scattered to the far sides of the ballroom just as the battered wreck of a coralskipper tore through the already-pierced roof. It ploughed through support beams and ceiling, showering the ballroom with debris as it slammed into the floor. Red-hot yorik coral was strewn around the room and the building began to quiver as its structural integrity was eaten away. Debris and a coralskipper were not the only things to fall from the roof. A Twi’lek plunged through the newly-created rent into the ceiling to slam painfully into the ground. Zeyn leapt over to her and immediately stood guard.

“Are you okay?” he called over his shoulder.

“I think I broke my ankle,” Qedai informed him as she struggled to her feet. “But I got all the coralskippers. Tossed everything I could at them, but couldn’t get clear in time.”

“We’re all clear,” Jan said. “Picking up the governor and his party now. Get over here before more skips arrive.”

Kyle looked at the wreckage of the coralskipper blocking the nearest exit and then back at the waves of Yuuzhan Vong warriors that were continuing to charge them.

“We’ll never make it. Take off and get out of there,” Kyle said.

“I can hold it,” she protested.

“Jan, leave! Now!” he bellowed as his saber clashed against an amphistaff while another one bludgeoned him in the ribs.

“All right, I’m clear! We have some casualties onboard, but we’ll make it,” she called.

Morgedh quickly darted forward to the help the Jedi, buying Kyle some time, but the Yuuzhan Vong hemmed in closer. Ryion suddenly noticed several taller, brawnier Yuuzhan Vong with even spikier armor than normal charging into the room. Immediately, he noticed they weren’t armed with amphistaffs or coufees even as they dashed towards the Jedi with claws extended.

“Careful!” he shouted, but that was all he managed before the warriors were upon him, striking without regard for their own safety.

Ryion slashed at the arm of one even as he backpedaled. When the warrior was within two meters of him, he suddenly exploded, unleashing a dozen blast bugs at Ryion point blank. Another of the spiky berserkers similarly detonated in front of Morgedh, hurling the Noghri back with the force of the detonation. Ryion was thrown to the ground, temporarily deafened and disoriented from the concussion. Kyle had managed to draw his pistol and plant precise shots in the two suicide bugbearers rushing him, downing them before they were a threat, while Zeyn had deflected the blast from himself and Qedai by telekinetically summoning a metal sheet to use as a shield. Kyle raced over and pulled Ryion to his feet, looking him over for injuries while Zeyn covered them by hurling more debris at the Yuuzhan Vong.

“Cracked ribs. Some burns. Maybe a punctured lung,” Ryion reported, his breaths coming as wheezing gasps. “I think my shoulder is dislocated.”

“Which one?” Kyle asked.

“Left—ah! Kriff you!” Ryion shouted as Kyle wrenched it back into place.

“You’ll thank me later,” Kyle told him grimly. “If we get the chance.”

“Retreat,” Morgedh ordered hoarsely as he pulled himself up and staggered backward, his lightsaber still humming in its relentless defensive pattern, still cutting away at Yuuzhan Vong.

Zeyn tossed his last two detonators at the Yuuzhan Vong and the brief fireballs provided enough separation for the Jedi to leap up onto the walkway and flee into an exit, running for their lives. Unbeknownst to them, dozens more Yuuzhan Vong, now accompanied by Jedi-hunting voxyn, had arrived at the governor’s mansion under the personal direction of Kroi Taak, surrounding them and closing in on their position. They fell back to the landing platform, and as per Kyle’s orders, the Raven’s Claw and the governor’s party were long gone. In their place sat a squat yorik-trema and a dozen Yuuzhan Vong warriors. They were cut off. The five Force-users quickly formed a defensive ring as Yuuzhan Vong emerged from both floors of the mansion behind them. More warriors approached from every direction, and while Kyle and Morgedh were able to kill a few with their pistols, the tide was overwhelming.

“Looks like we drew a lot of attention,” Ryion commented, every breath setting his chest on fire from the pain.

“That was the goal,” Kyle reminded him. “We won.”

“Then why don’t I feel very victorious?” Zeyn asked sarcastically as the warriors closed in on them, throwing their living missiles at them.

Lightsabers bobbed and weaved, incinerating them as they came. An animal howl issued from within the mansion, a cry that could not have belonged to any Yuuzhan Vong. They sensed a rapacious hunger that homed in on them, a fury foreign to most of them, but not Kyle Katarn.

“Voxyn,” he reported. “Scariest things you’ll ever face. Even a graze can be lethal and they hunt with the Force.”

“Fabulous,” Ryion remarked drily, steeling himself against the chill running down his spine amidst his numerous injuries. While he hadn’t had time to realize it in the midst of the furious melee, he was bleeding in many places, bruised and cut in a dozen more, to say nothing of the more serious internal injuries, and suspected the others were as well.

“Their armor is weak at the neck and under the arms,” Morgedh intoned impassively. “Strike quickly and efficiently and we will make them come at us over a wave of their own dead.”

A tall, ominous-looking Yuuzhan Vong emerged from the mansion, flanked by a pair of the ferocious voxyn. The repto-canine beasts lurched and struggled against their handlers, desperate to get to the Jedi and claw them to pieces.

“Jeedai, I am Kroi Taak, commander of these forces!” the Vong shouted. “Surrender and your lives, and the lives of many others on this planet will be spared. Resist, and we will cut you to pieces slowly!”

“What do you think?” Zeyn asked. “Do we take the Vong gurrcat bait at his word?”

“Can I give the reply?” Qedai asked. “I’m dying to.”

“Anger is of the dark side, Qedai,” Morgedh reminded her.

“I’m not angry, Master Kel’nerh,” she told him. “Just resolute. Please, allow me.”

“Go ahead,” Ryion told her.

Qedai stepped forward from her position to stare directly at Kroi Taak.

“We know better than to trust Vong promises,” she yelled defiantly. “This is where you die!”

To punctuate her words, she leapt into the air, twirling around two axes and then flung her discblades at Kroi Taak. He barely managed to bat away one of them with his amphistaff, and the circular weapon ricocheted off to embed itself so deeply in the side of one of the voxyn’s skulls that only half the weapon was visible. The creature snarled once, then collapsed and died. The other discblade buried itself into his left shoulder, punching through the vonduun crab armor to bite deeply into the flesh beneath, eliciting a stream of black blood from the wound. He stared in astonishment at her, then bellowed an order in the Yuuzhan Vong language. The warriors charged under the cover of a hail of thrown insects, heedless of a low rumbling issuing from the mountain range behind the city. Ryion cast another wave of Force lightning at the warriors, but he was too tired to sustain the bolts and the bloodthirsty aliens continued their charge anyway.

Amphistaff and coufee met lightsaber and Qedai’s spare discblades. The Yuuzhan Vong encircled them, stabbing, whipping, flailing, and slashing against the ring of defenders. Within seconds, their wounded and dead began piling up, but even as Kroi Taak and his remaining voxyn advanced, it was clear that the Force-users would be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers.

Then, over the ridge, swooped a flock of starships freshly arrived to the fray. A quartet of Whirlwind interceptors screamed over the governor’s mansion at supersonic speeds to open up on a pair of coralskippers orbiting the area, shredding them instantly. The shockwave deafened everyone in the immediate vicinity, knocking them flat. Kroi Taak and the voxyn recovered first, charging forward even as the parked yorik-trema exploded in a steaming explosion of fire and coral splinters. The voxyn howled, its ear-splitting screech concussing the toppled Force-users again even as it closed the gap.

Three Javelin shuttles followed in the wake of the Whirlwinds, their nose blaster turrets and laser cannons spraying hot light at the Yuuzhan Vong formations. The repeating blasters were particularly effective, their streams of blaster bolts mowing down Yuuzhan Vong with gruesome effectiveness. The shuttles came to a hover behind the defenders and fibra-ropes were flung out of their side doors. Yanibar Guard Army commandos rappelled down, firing as they plummeted down and racing toward the survivors. Ahead of them sprinted a red-skinned Twi’lek, Daara, Qedai’s mother and one of the most formidable Zeison Sha. Seeing the voxyn about to leap into the midst of the fallen Force-users, Daara leapt forward in a mighty jump that cleared the last ten meters of separation. She flung one discblade and saw it punch into the voxyn at the nape of its neck, even as the creature continued its charge and sprayed acid at the Force users.

Daara landed right beside it, slashing with her remaining weapon to catch the voxyn’s throat, slitting it expertly before it could spew more acid. The creature thrashed wildly as blood poured from the wound as Daara suddenly found herself face-to-face with Kroi Taak. He swung his amphistaff at her but she was inside his guard and the blow glanced off her back. The warrior snarled and tried to coil the serpentine head back to bite her, but she caught the amphistaff’s neck in her left hand and used a Force-empowered grip to keep the head pointed away from her body. With her right arm, she gashed Kroi Taak’s side with her discblade, but the weapon was unable to inflict serious damage through the thick vonduun crab armor. The warrior punched her in the face and then grabbed one of her lekku, seeking to hurl her onto the voxyn’s poisoned spines. She fought against his grip even as Kyle scrambled to his feet, aiming his Bryar pistol at Kroi Taak but unable to fire with Daara in the way. The voxyn’s writhing caused its barbed tail to lance out and stab Kroi Taak in the back.

The warrior howled in pain and then suddenly jerked Daara to the side. This gave her the opening she needed to slash at his throat with her discblade, when suddenly the wildly-thrashing barbed tail of the voxyn caught her under her right arm. She gasped, her swing falling short of gashing Kroi Taak’s throat, and he hurled her to the ground and stomped on her. The Yuuzhan Vong roared triumphantly even as the voxyn’s poison burned through his veins. Raising his amphistaff high, he prepared to plunge it down into her when suddenly Kyle Katarn was there, having fought through several Yuuzhan Vong warriors to kneel over Daara.

The Jedi parried the downward stab, then angled his blade sideways to cut through both of Kroi Taak’s legs at the knees. The warrior gave an anguished gurgled and toppled even as warriors rushed Kyle Katarn. From his kneeling position, the veteran Jedi battlemaster held off all comers while the commandos and other Force-users rushed to his aid.

“Mom!” Qedai screamed even as she struggled to stand after having some of the voxyn’s acid splash onto her leg.

Morgedh and Zeyn were the first into the fray beside Kyle, lightsabers cleaving through the last of the Yuuzhan Vong while the shuttles and commandos cleared a perimeter around them. Ryion slowly clambered to his feet and raced up shakily, still dizzy and with his ears ringing. Only instinct and the Force kept him fighting. Whereas a normal foe would have realized the tables had been turned, the Yuuzhan Vong only attacked with even more ferocity.

Loud sizzling sounds echoed around them as eight-meter metal pods shot down from the sky to impact around the governor’s mansion. They burst open to reveal giant bipedal walkers bristling with armament. Purple blaster bolts and missiles issued from their weapons systems, blazing away at coralskippers and ground targets alike. Return fire bounced off their advanced shielding or was incinerated by their point-defense laser systems. One of the newest and most sophisticated weapon systems in the Yanibar Guard Army, the Avatar walkers were finally able to cut off additional Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements as the Yanibar Guard made its presence known in and above the city. The staccato whump-whump-whump of their arm-mounted laser cannons filled the air as they burned away at formations of advancing Yuuzhan Vong infantry. Jalsinnare jetpacked their way down from additional shuttles, working alongside the Avatars to clear the area around the governor’s mansion of Yuuzhan Vong.

Meanwhile, surrounded by a ring of corpses, Ryion and his comrades finally slew the last Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Behind them, the Javelin shuttles set down as the commandos signaled they had casualties.

“Pick them up and get them to the shuttles,” Morgedh ordered, beckoning to Qedai and Daara.

Zeyn and Ryion started to comply, but Ryion felt his strength leaving him rapidly even as he stooped to scoop up a struggling Qedai, who was reaching for her stricken mother. Sensing this, Kyle stepped in front of him.

“Let me,” he said softly.

Ryion gave way reluctantly and the Jedi picked up Qedai with seemingly no effort, cradling her as if she was a child while making sure he didn’t touch her acid-burned leg. Zeyn likewise picked up Daara and they dashed back to the waiting shuttles, followed by Morgedh and Ryion while the commandos covered their retreat.

The two wounded Force-users were laid side-by-side in the shuttle as YGA medics attended to them.

“She’s critical!” one of the medics reported, reaching for the trauma kit. “Medevac us to the rally point, stat!”

“We have a temporary landing zone set up over the ridge,” one of the commandos told Ryion, who was looking concernedly at Daara as the medics began inserting IVs and talking to each other in terse medical jargon. “There’s a field medcenter set up in anticipation of casualties.”

“Good thing you guys arrived when you did,” Kyle said as the shuttle lifted off.

“I’m afraid it wasn’t soon enough,” Zeyn replied sadly, also looking worriedly at Daara.

Her normally red skin had turned to a pale pink and the veins stood out on her face. She was barely breathing, despite the ministrations of the medics. Heedless of her own painful injuries, Qedai was clasping her mother’s hand desperately.

“Talk to me, Mom,” she said tearfully.

“I’m here, my daughter,” Daara whispered. “I’m here.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Qedai insisted frantically. “We’re taking you to get help.”

Daara smiled weakly.

“You’re safe,” she said. “I can die in peace, knowing that my little gida is safe.”

“No, Mom,” Qedai replied, a tear sliding down her cheek. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it.”

Daara shook her head almost imperceptibly, wincing at the pain elicited by the motion.

“Soon, I will be with your father, my love,” Daara said, her voice weaker than before.

“No! NO!” Qedai cried even as a medic tried to restrain her. “Don’t help me, help her!”

“We’re doing all we can,” said the medic, even as he caught the subtle shake of the head from his partner attending Daara.

“I love you very much,” Daara said, squeezing Qedai’s hand tightly as she struggled to force the words out. “The Force will be with you. . . always.”

Then the elder Twi’lek sighed as her last breath escaped her.

“We’ve lost heartbeat,” one medic said. “Starting CPR.”

Ryion’s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes and brimmed over. He felt Daara’s life force slip away from her body as she passed. Deep, painful sorrow filled his heart at her death, more agonizing than any wound he had ever received. He couldn’t bear to look at the face of Qedai, contorted into an awful expression of pure loss. The wave of grief and anger and despair emanating from her was mirrored in his own soul and in Zeyn’s, washing over every Force-user in the vicinity. He had known Master Daara since he was a child and the thought of her being dead was almost incomprehensible. The sounds of the medics trying to vain to resuscitate Daara were drowned out by the well of grief and sadness that overwhelmed all his senses. Even the pain of his own wounds was completely dwarfed by shock of Daara’s death. He knew this was just the beginning, that time would only sharpen that pain as he realized what had happened.

He remembered little of the rest of the trip back to the rallying point, only that he was vaguely aware of the Javelin setting down on a grassy field near a prefabricated building. The medics immediately rushed a wailing Qedai out on a stretcher to the medcenter, with one of them fumbling with a hypo trying to sedate her.

Ryion, Kyle, Morgedh, and Zeyn stumbled out of the shuttle in a daze, not sufficiently wounded to merit the stretcher treatment. No doubt there were others in more dire need of such care. The commandos followed. Two orderlies emerged from the medcenter, but the commando captain waved them off.

“We’ll take care of her,” he said, then turned to his troops. “Dorn Squad, bear the fallen.”

Two commandos entered into the Javelin and emerged with the stretcher bearing Daara’s body while the other six formed a line outside the shuttle on the path to the medcenter. The Force-users stood across from them in a small huddle, still in shock.

“Helmets off! Present arms!” ordered the captain.

The six commandos doffed their helmets and their blaster rifles clacked against their armor as they brought their weapons up in the appropriate salute. Ryion, Kyle, Zeyn, and Morgedh likewise brought their lightsabers out and ignited them, holding them up in a salute as the stretcher-bearers carried Daara past them and followed the orderlies into the medcenter. Once they were out of sight, the commandos and Force-users replaced their weapons and broke formation.

“I know this is going to sound trite and harsh right now, but everything will so I’m going to say it anyway,” Kyle told Zeyn and Ryion, who were the most obviously grief-stricken out of the group. “She sacrificed herself for you, for us, for her daughter over there. She knew exactly what she was doing when she jumped in the way like that and she saved our lives. She would want her sacrifice honored, not stained by despair.”

“He is right,” Morgedh put in.

Zeyn turned and looked at him with a bleak expression on his tearstained, dirty, bloodied face.

“How many more, Master Katarn? How many more noble sacrifices are we going to have to make before this is over, Master Kel’nerh?” he asked bitterly. “How many more of us are going to be carried off on stretchers like that?”

The two older Force-users had no answer to his questions, and so together the four silently, painstakingly made their way into the medcenter, dazed and stricken by wounds both physical and emotional.