| abstract
| - Ryion carefully manipulated the Yuuzhan Vong shuttle into position as plasma cannon projectiles destroyed the droid fighters that had been chasing them towards the Yuuzhan Vong flagship. The mammoth warship had opened some kind of docking orifice and sent a coralskipper, clearly welcoming them into the formation of Yuuzhan Vong vessels that was now advancing on the Yanibar Guard Fleet. “This is such a simple ruse,” Zeyn pointed out. “You better hope they were fooled and we’re not walking into a trap.” “If they had tried to use the villips, they would have found that they don’t respond. We killed them already,” Ryion said. “Being pursued by enemy craft, I don’t think they would have bothered questioning our identity.” “When are those mines supposed to go off again?” Zeyn asked. Ryion consulted the primitive sensor board that had been wired into the living compartment. “Soon,” he said. The organic shuttle came to rest inside a Yuuzhan Vong hangar, a cavernous cavity inside the grand cruiser filled with other shuttles. Dozens of slots for coralskippers were evident, but they were mostly deserted as the Yuuzhan Vong had already deployed their starfighter analogs. Ryion shuddered. Being inside a small Yuuzhan Vong craft with its eerie living insides was bad enough. Knowingly flying into a giant living ship teeming with Yuuzhan Vong warriors and who knew what kinds of bizarre biotechnology was monumentally worse. He had never seen such a large life form and his inability to sense it in the Force made it all the more mystifying. “You ready?” Zeyn asked, breaking into Ryion’s surveying of the Bloodthirster’s interior. “They’re gonna wonder why we’re not opening the . . . whatever this thing has for hatches.” Ryion’s mind snapped back to the present and he sought the reassuring lucidity of the Force to cleanse his mind of distractions. A second later, he was focused on his and Zeyn’s mission. “I’m ready,” he said, pulling his breath mask over his face. “How many Vong are out there?” “Lots,” Zeyn told him. “At least twenty are approaching the hatch. All warriors, too.” “Wonderful,” Ryion replied. “Let’s do it. Deploy package one.” The pair turned towards the exterior hatch of the Yuuzhan Vong shuttle craft. Ryion opened a cargo crate and waited as Zeyn drew his lightsaber and then tapped a button on his wrist computer. As he did so, a series of shaped charges planted on the hatch detonated, blowing the hatch outward into the congregated Yuuzhan Vong warriors. At a telekinetic command from Ryion, silvery thermal detonators rose out of the crate, armed themselves and jetted out the hatch to fly into groups of Yuuzhan Vong. Ryion’s aim was guided by a pair of holocams mounted just inside the now-destroyed hatch while Zeyn stood guard, incinerating hurled thud and razor bugs that were directed at the hatchway. “Too bad we can’t use the shuttle’s weapons,” Ryion commented as he directed three more thermal detonators into passages that were being filled with Yuuzhan Vong. “I thought of that,” Zeyn replied. “Most Vong tech won’t work against the owners. Plasma cannons are probably the same way.” “Too bad.” One warrior attempted to bat away the thermal detonator hurling at him and his three comrades. He succeeded, but since the weapon had already been armed, it exploded less than a meter away from him with a loud crackle. The resulting orb of destruction annihilated him and his companions, who had previously been the largest group of opponents in the vicinity. “Good enough,” Zeyn said. “Deploy package two.” This time Ryion hit a button on his wrist computer. From other cargo containers, combat droids emerged and charged out of the hatch, weapons blazing. Eight droidekas rolled ahead and unfolded into their characteristic firing stance, hazy deflector shields glowing as thrown weapons hit them. Their blasters spat crimson bolts of death in reply. Following them were four hulking JRF-3 fire support droids. Though they lacked the shields of the droidekas, the JRF droids carried heavy weapons that normally were mounted on the back of Harasser speeders or operated from stationary mounts. Ryion heard the ratcheting sounds as the JRF droids deployed and unlimbered their repeating blasters, followed by a thunderous whump-whump-whump as they cut loose on the Yuuzhan Vong. Other JRF droids fired minitorpedo launchers or used beamlasers to cut swathes through the Yuuzhan Vong warriors. The screams and shouts of the warriors mixed with the screech of living weapons hitting metal and mingled with the high-pitched whine of the blasters and whoosh of minitorpedoes rocketing out of their launch tubes. “Ready?” Zeyn asked Ryion. Ryion nodded, drawing his lightsaber. He tapped the activation stud and the purple blade sprang from the hilt. Reaching up to his forehead, he slid his goggles down, then charged outside in the chaotic skirmish being waged in the hangar with Zeyn right beside him. An angry whirring filled the air as dozens of thud bugs, razor bugs, and blast bugs were hurled at the intruders by Yuuzhan Vong. Adopting the defensive Soresu form, Ryion and Zeyn advanced methodically, their lightsaber blades flashing as they parried and blocked the thrown ordnance. Their tightly-controlled defense was well-nigh impenetrable and the Yuuzhan Vong had clearly already attempted to charge the droids, at heavy cost to their numbers. Bodies were littered across the living floor. Many of them were charred significantly or sliced in half, their faces frozen in expressions of eternal hate. The hangar reeked with the acrid stench of burned flesh. However, the droids had suffered mightily even as they fanned out to form a perimeter around the landing craft. Only two of the droidekas and three JRF droids remained. Then it was down to two as two warriors leaped on a sturdy JRF droid, cramming blast bugs into its joints. Zeyn lobbed a grenade at them, blowing them away, but the droid was ruined. “We need to move!” Zeyn called. “Right,” Ryion replied as his blade wove through a defensive velocity, incinerating a trio of thud bugs. “Package three go.” He stepped forward to cover both himself and Zeyn while Zeyn momentarily abandoned his lightsaber and raised his arms. Dozens of flares shot out from wrist launchers, saturating the hangar with searing light far too intense to look at without significant optical protection. Behind their goggles, Zeyn and Ryion were safe, and the droids’ targeting sensors were unaffected. The Yuuzhan Vong were not so lucky and their choices were either to attack blindly or retreat. Many of them were mowed down by the droids, but Zeyn and Ryion were long gone. Racing down one of the tunnel-like corridors of the ship, the two Elite Guardians surprised several parties of Yuuzhan Vong warriors on the way to the hangar. Zeyn then threw a grenade or flare and the resulting distraction allowed them to easily kill the warriors. When approaching walls or barriers, the two would slice through if their X-ray mode showed it was clear. They avoided slicing through anything thicker than half a meter, wary of plunging their weapons into a sensitive portion of the ship’s innards. “We’re three hundred meters in,” Ryion said. “If they’re tracking our path, they’ll know we’re heading for the prisoners. I expect a second layer of defense coming up soon.” “Maybe we should have brought active camouflage,” Zeyn replied. “That’s banking on the ship not being able to sense us walking through the corridors,” Ryion answered. “If they know where we are, they’ve missed an awful lot of chances to ambush us,” Zeyn pointed out. “Which leads me to have a very bad feeling about this.” “I was afraid of that,” Ryion said. “Maybe they think the prisoner area is easier to defend?” “Or we’re being baited,” Zeyn offered pessimistically. “Nonsense,” Ryion scoffed jocularly. “There is no conceivable way that you and I would be baited into a trap on the enemy flagship.” “Good to know,” Zeyn answered deadpan. Advancing slowly, the two infiltrators kept a careful watch for Yuuzhan Vong warriors, but found none. There had been no attempt at poisoning, so the two had temporarily shed their breath masks for now, leaving them strapped around their necks for easy access. The winding corridor led them to an intersection of some point. About ten meters to the entrance, Ryion held up a fist, signaling a stop. “We’ve got problems,” he said. “I sense it also,” Zeyn answered. “Reminds me of those beasts we fought on Rishi. Voxyn?” “Undoubtedly,” Ryion told him. “At least two and thermals are indicating upwards of twenty Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Rather a tall order given that we’re out of droids. If the voxyn weren’t there it’d be more manageable.” “They’re not attacking. They’re waiting for us, even though the voxyn no doubt know that we’re here,” Zeyn pointed out. “It’s a wide gallery of some kind, easy to defend and set up multiple fields of fire. This is their second layer of defense and something tells me we’ll have to get through it to reach the prisoners,” Ryion said, transferring his thermal imagery to his wrist computer, which took the footage and rendered it as a floating holo projected from his armored gauntlet. “It’s even got two levels for any Yuuzhan Vong snipers.” “We’re not getting through that alive,” Zeyn commented. “It looks like the prisoners are being held a couple hundred meters from the gallery. That passage leading to the left should take us closer, but we’d have to stroll by every single one of those warriors to do it. How’s your Force camouflage?” “Not good enough,” Ryion replied. “Yours?” “Same.” Ryion blew out the breath he’d been holding for several seconds. “All right,” he said. “Here’s the plan. I distract the Vong. You go for the prisoners.” Zeyn arched an eyebrow quizzically. “And leave you to be carved up by the Vong while I get to fight through all the guards around the prisoners alone?” he answered skeptically. “That’s the best you got?” Ryion shook his head. “We’re running out of time and options,” he replied. Zeyn laid a hand on Ryion’s arm, giving him a concerned look. “This isn’t Myrkr,” he said. “Learn from the lessons that happened there.” Ryion opened his mouth to say something when the last person he would have expected to see materialized in front of him. His mother. “Hello, Ryion,” she said. Ryion jumped, startled. “Mom?” he asked. “What are you doing here?” Then his eyes widened as he realized that her image was slightly transparent. Horrified at what that meant, his jaw dropped open. “You’re not . . . not . . .” he stammered, unable to actually vocalize the fear that was accumulating like a black hole in the pit of his stomach. Milya shook her head dismissively. “No, I’m not dead,” she told him, then a slight smile played across her face. “I can see why you might think that though. I’m projecting an image of myself to you using the Force.” “Well, that’s a relief,” Ryion said. “So, not to be rude, but why are you here? Zeyn and I are kind of busy.” Milya looked miffed at the curt reply. “I wanted to let you know that we found the mystery planet. We also were followed by Yuuzhan Vong. We took them out, but I figured you might find that significant. There’s more also.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Where are you two?” “Funny you should ask. We’re on the enemy flagship,” Zeyn mentioned flippantly. “Should I get you a holocard from the gift shop?” Milya’s facial expression blanked. “I see now why your father suggested I should talk to you in person,” she commented drily. “Sounds like him all right,” Ryion replied. “We’re trying to rescue some YG prisoners, but . . .” Suddenly, an idea hit him. “But what?” Milya asked suspiciously. “Mom, is that projection of yours visible to non-Force-sensitives?” “Yes,” she told him. “I used it to talk to Jorge and Annita earlier in our trip. I can only see objects that are visible in the Force through it.” “Does it work on Vong?” “I did it once on a covert mission,” Milya admitted slowly. “Only works for a couple seconds, though, then they realize it’s a decoy.” Ryion turned to Zeyn. “Last I checked, you were the better shot. Is that enough time?” “It’ll have to be,” Zeyn told him grimly. “What are you talking about?” Milya demanded. “We could use your help,” Ryion said appeasingly. “Or rather, your doppelganger’s.” “What?” Milya asked. “There’s this room full of Vong and two voxyn,” Ryion told her. “We have to get through it to reach the prisoners, but we can’t deal with both the Vong and the voxyn at the same time. If you can distract the Vong for us with your projection, I can distract the voxyn so Zeyn can pick them off.” Milya’s jaw set as she fixed a pointedly disapproving gaze at Ryion. “Son,” she said slowly. “I will spare you an extremely deserved lecture on the stupidity of your actions because I don’t want those to be my last words to you. I love you very much and I want to be able to come home to you and Selu. Do you understand me?” “I do. I love you too, Mom,” Ryion said gravely. “And I’m sorry. It needed to be done. Those people are here because of me. I owe it to them.” She shook her head. “We’re wasting time. Give me the exact directions and I’ll try to make the projection do it. Ordinarily, this would be difficult, but Atlaradis is a very strong Force nexus, so that’s helping.” Ryion gave her the directions and pseudo-Milya loped off, striding confidently through the corridor, though her image did pass through some of the irregularities in the walls’ contours. “All right, stop,” Ryion called just as she approached the entrance into the gallery. He turned to Zeyn. “You ready?” Zeyn withdrew two armor-piercing grenades from the bandoleer. He passed the rounds under his nose as if smelling them, kissed each one in turn, then loaded the first one into the underslung ordnance launcher on his S-2C carbine, placing the second one in a rack on the stock for quick access. Meanwhile, Ryion had unlimbered the shield he had been carrying on his back, slotting it onto his left arm. They stacked up behind Milya’s apparition, which had a lightsaber in its hand now. “The gallery is five meters ahead. Once you reach it, you’ll turn right into an open area about six meters wide and twenty meters long. The Vong are that direction.” “Got it,” she said, her voice all business, betraying none of the concern she had for her son and nephew, who were trespassing in the heart of the Yuuzhan Vong flagship. “Standing by for your mark.” “Three, two, one, mark!” Ryion counted. Milya’s doppelganger leapt ahead, igniting the lightsaber and twirling it in a defensive pattern. A flurry of thud and razor bugs were immediately hurled at it as Ryion darted out behind her. His lightsaber was up and swatting thrown ordnance also, but Milya’s doppelganger had attracted the initial volley of living projectiles from the Yuuzhan Vong, so he had a more manageable number to handle. The voxyn, not at all fooled by the Force projection, charged. One of them let an earsplitting screech in an attempt to disorient its opponents. However, the ample sonic damping afforded by the earpieces Zeyn and Ryion were wearing protected from that assault. The second voxyn stopped and spat a stream of brownish acid at Ryion. Ryion nimbly backflipped away from the corrosive liquid, which splattered on the living deck and began eating away at it, fuming noxiously. He batted away three more thud bugs in mid-air and landed gracefully. The Milya doppelganger had disappeared and now more Yuuzhan Vong were hurling weapons at him even as they began to charge him from behind the voxyn. The loud report of a grenade launcher sounded off to his side even as Ryion simultaneously twirled his blade through an intricate defensive maneuver to incinerate a small swarm of razor bugs and deflected a stream of amphistaff venom with his shield. Off to his side, the first voxyn’s head exploded as the armor-piercing grenade fired by Zeyn found its mark. Ryion stood in front and just off to the side of Zeyn, defending him while he reloaded the grenade launcher. A barbed tail jabbed menacingly at him with blinding speed as the second voxyn lunged. Ryion just barely managed to catch it with his shield, severing it with his lightsaber. The voxyn roared with pain and charged at him, raking at him with claws that Ryion knew were tainted with retroviruses. He was bowled over, catching the worst of the assault on his shield. All he could see was the ferocious teeth and claws of the voxyn, seeking to tear him to shreds. Ryion hacked at the creature with his lightsaber, but the blade glanced off of its scales, leaving only a light charred mark. He fought desperately even as it pinned him down, slashing at the tough polymer suit. The reinforced thigh padding was shredded by even a glancing swipe and Ryion knew he was running out of time. The voxyn would hit him with one of its many deadly weapons soon enough, or else the Yuuzhan Vong would finish him. Staring into the voxyn’s merciless eyes, Ryion bashed its nose with his shield, hoping to stall. Even as it snapped, preparing to chomp at his throat, Ryion knew the teeth would find their mark, that he wasn’t fast enough to bring the shield back up. Just as the voxyn dove at Ryion, Zeyn fired. The grenade caught the voxyn in the mouth, punching deep into its thoat before exploding. The focused blast destroyed its jaw and tongue in a spray of gore and teeth. The voxyn emitted a strangulating sound as it tried to gash Ryion with its claws. Ryion was ready for it, though, using his shield to ward off the claws while stabbing his lightsaber through the roof of the voxyn’s ruined mouth. The purple blade stabbed through the tissue to pierce its brain, killing it. Ryion rolled to the side to get out from under where it would fall, his lightsaber sweeping up to catch a descending amphistaff intent on stabbing him. The blow was parried, but it knocked Ryion’s lightsaber away. Zeyn lunged forward, stabbing the Yuuzhan Vong warrior in the eye even as Ryion sprang to his feet. Zeyn had continued his forward motion to buy Ryion time to recover, advancing recklessly into the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong, his blade dancing and flashing as he hacked his way through their midst. Ryion sensed no trepidation from his cousin, only resolute purpose and cheer. Zeyn seemed perfectly happy with his role, parrying thrown weapons and amphistaffs and coufees, his lightsaber scoring wound after wound on his opponents. Dread filled Ryion as he realized that his cousin was intent on sacrificing himself so Ryion would have a chance to complete the mission. “Not this time,” Ryion muttered under his breath. “We learned from Myrkr.” He made no attempt to recover the fallen lightsaber. Instead, channeling the Force, Ryion summoned the energy to flow through him, directing it towards his arms. He could feel its power accumulating under his skin as he formed it into the desired manifestation. Ryion had never unleashed the Force on this scale and he was aware of the palpable evidence of the concentrated energy. Small green tendrils of lightning played over his arms, glowing, crackling and popping. His hands and forearms felt like they were about to burst from the strain of containing so much raw Force power, until finally, Ryion raised his hands and cut loose. Green bolts of Electric Judgment shot from his fingertips to consume the Yuuzhan Vong warriors. Ryion gritted his teeth and tried to feed the outpour further, acting as a conduit for the tremendous exertion. Warriors screamed as they were engulfed by the electrocuting tendrils, but Ryion did not relent. The Force storm grew until it consumed the entire gallery, filling the air with the dissonant electric screech and pop of the bolts, combined with the sizzling of burned flesh. Zeyn ducked away as the storm raged through the entire compartment. The Yuuzhan Vong tried to keep fighting, but their nervous systems were overwhelmed by the furious output of Force energy in such a violent manifestation. They writhed and twitched, helpless in the throes of the Force storm. One by one, either due to cardiac arrest, burst blood vessels, or simply excessive burns and trauma, they collapsed lifelessly. Only then did Ryion allow the storm to subside. Only then did Ryion lower his arms and cease the cascade of Force energy. Zeyn stood to the side with lightsaber drawn in a ready stance, surveying the corpses strewn throughout the gallery. “That is a nifty trick,” he said evenly. “I would be more impressed if I was sure you weren’t playing with dark side power there.” Feeling drained from using such a consuming Force power at such great magnitude, Ryion had no witty retort available as he picked up his lightsaber. “We can debate the philosophy at length later,” Ryion replied. “Given that I was using it to defend you from murderous sentient opponents who could not be persuaded to cease their attack, I’m considering it an acceptable use.” “Not a very Jedi-like method of killing,” Zeyn admonished distastefully, nudging one of the charred Yuuzhan Vong corpses with one foot. “Telekinesis doesn’t work on them,” Ryion reminded him. “If you knew of a better method, you should have used it.” Zeyn finally wheeled around and glared at Ryion. “When this is over, you’re going to get sorted out,” he said adamantly. “This is borderline, Ryion. We didn’t take out Psykith just to fall to the dark side.” Ryion raised his hands in surrender. “Whatever you want,” he replied placatingly. “For now, let’s just get the prisoners and get out of here. Are you hurt?” “A little,” Zeyn admitted, turning his head to show the blood dribbling down his scalp. “Razor bug nicked me and I took a thud bug to the knee. Hurts a lot, definitely bruised, probably tore a meniscus.” “That’s it?” Ryion asked, surprised. “I mean, I’m happy that you’re not injured worse, but thud bugs usually do much more damage.” Zeyn shrugged as he applied a spray bandage to the wound. “Maybe the knee padding in the suit absorbed more of the impact?” “Or they’re using smaller thud bugs to try and cripple us rather than kill,” Ryion suggested. “Like for a capture attempt.” “It would fit in with that trap theory,” Zeyn admitted. “But since such a thing is impossible, we have nothing to worry about.” “Not if this was their trap,” Ryion pointed out. “Maybe most of the guards around the prisoners were diverted here.” “And maybe you’re going to win the next Kuati beauty contest,” Zeyn answered jocularly. “There’ll be at least one more fight ahead of us, if not more.” “Then let’s get to it,” Ryion said. “I’d hate to keep them waiting.” Weapons ready, they advanced through the gallery, heading for the passageway that led towards the captive Yanibar Guard personnel. Umbra’s Edge All was quiet in the dark room where Ariada was being held against her will. Her eyes were closed, brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to maintain the protective Force cloak around the Umbra’s Edge. Her arms and legs trembled from the exertion and she could feel the beads of sweat accumulating on her skin. In her mind, Ariada was wrapping the ship and the selected radius that Therior had insisted upon in a bubble of concealing energy, hiding it from sensors and Force-users alike. Such a task was difficult even for a Jedi Master like Selu Kraen and normally well beyond Ariada’s capabilities. However, the eerie blue crystals in the room acted like a conduit for the Force, amplifying her own meager effort. With them enhancing her use of the Force, the struggle was controlling the Force camouflage. Her head throbbed and she knew her heart rate was skyrocketing, but she maintained her concentration, throwing every iota of Force power she possessed into shielding the Umbra’s Edge. She knew from the ship’s noises that they had dropped out of hyperspace, and that meant they were in the Yanibar system. They were trespassers, intruders who were violating space that she had once sworn to protect from all who meant the refuge of Force exiles harm. She was directly violating her oaths, an indiscretion she had never dreamed of adding to her life’s tally of misdeeds, but she also had no choice. For the moment, she was powerless in the grasp of the Dark Jedi, and she would need their resources if she was to succeed in her quest to bring the Yuuzhan Vong to justice. Returning to the Yanibar Guard now was impossible; she had crossed the threshold of final decision. “Excellent work, Ariada,” Therior’s voice cut in through the room’s comlink system. “We are close enough to Yanibar that I can sense the illusion protecting the refuge you spoke of. I have no need to see behind it.” Ariada made no reply. The intense strain of hiding an entire ship and its crew from both the Force and sensors was too much for her to bear interminably. She could feel herself weakening, being overwhelmed by the power flowing through her and the surge of darkness from Therior and his companions that smothered her like a wet blanket. “I cannot sense what is behind it, but I do sense some Force-sensitives in orbit. In fact, we are very close to a space station now that has several of them onboard. Their attempts to hide are imperfect—they cannot fully hide their true nature from me, nor can keeping their fleet behind that gas giant conceal them from my senses.” He cackled, which Ariada found surprising considering how close they were to what was almost certainly Yanibar’s Helm, a converted Lucrehulk battleship that served as the Yanibar Guard Orbital Command. She would have anticipated that he would have been subdued and surprised by the sheer power of the Yanibar Guard and its defenders, but Therior did not seem even the least bit intimidated. Was his hubris that boundless? Anxiety erupted through her, forcing her to redouble her efforts to conceal the ship and the space Therior had insisted upon. She could feel her strength ebbing as her clarity of mind slipped away, eroded by the fears caused by Therior’s posturing. “I can . . . only hide . . . little longer,” she bit out, nearly crying out from the tremendous taxing of her mind and body that the camouflage required. There was a long pause and Ariada began to fear that Therior would ignore her, keep pushing her until she finally broke down and the Force camouflage collapsed. “We have seen enough,” Therior replied, an odd choice of words given that he rarely included his companions in his choice of pronouns. Another prolonged silence ensued and she bit her lip, trying to stifle a cry. A trickle of blood snaked down her chin and she realized how hard she’d been clenching her jaw. Relenting somewhat on meting undeserved punishment on her lip, she was nevertheless near the breaking point. Her entire body was shaking almost to the point of convulsions and sweat poured from every pore. Finally, she heard the voice of Therior again. “We are leaving,” he said. “Our work here is done. Turn the ship around.” Those words were like music to her ears, almost as good as actual relief. Surely she could endure for another five minutes. Her protesting body could be forced to persevere until they were safe from the threat that the entire Yanibar system posed to this ship. Then, as a bead of sweat slid down her spine, she felt it strike a nerve, a sensation that transcended merely the feeling of moisture on flesh. It was the perception of awareness, a tangible tingle that she had come to associate with being watched. Somehow she knew it was a he, a familiar presence. He hadn’t sensed her yet, but he would. Soon. “Therior . . . we need to leave . . . now,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Someone is here. Someone who can see through.” “What?!” he demanded. “Warned you . . . about this.” “I will deal with you later!” he snarled. The comlink went dead and Ariada shivered helplessly as the perception slid closer and closer. She could sense its awareness noticing a wrinkle in the Force, as if detecting a star hidden in a nebula by sensing its mass shadow. The effect that she and three powerful Dark Jedi had on the Force could be hidden, but even the faintest ripple would be enough to clue in a sufficiently-adept Force-wielder. Ariada felt the sensation begin to latch onto that ripple, to trace back to its source. Ariada. She heard her name resonate in her mind, spoken in damning tones by a voice she knew all too well. “He’s . . . coming,” she told Therior. “Let him come,” she heard his mocking reply. “Fire.” Ariada gasped as the presence finally locked onto her and she knew the game was up. The Umbra’s Edge had been detected and she knew who had found her: the same person who had captured her all those weeks ago, Morgedh clan Kel’nerh, the leader of the Elite Guardians, the foremost warrior on Yanibar, and her teacher. Now more presences seeking her were being added, no doubt as Morgedh contacted the Yanibar Guard. Overcome by exertion and with no more point in maintaining the cloak, she finally released the Force camouflage, exposing the ship and its occupants. She slumped down, sinking into her chair as she gasped for breath. The ship lurched and jerked. Ariada could feel the throbbing of the frigate as its engines accelerated to full power. She wondered if they were being fired upon, but as fatigued as she was, she had no chance of escaping her restraints to find out. However, Aspra Serpaddis slithered in a minute later. “Come,” he said, freeing her from her restraints. “You must see this.” Limbs quavering and with her strength sapped, Ariada was powerless to rise. Aspra Serpaddis helped her up, then turned to face her. “You must move on your own accord,” he said. “I can’t . . .” she stammered. “Too weak.” The Thisspiassian directed a cold reptilian gaze at her. “Embrace the dark side, Ariada,” he said. “Use your anger to fuel you. Over prolonged periods, it can scar you, but it burns hot and dangerous for the short term.” She nodded, focusing her mind on the injustices inflicted upon her by Therior and Krakadas. She thought about the torture, both mental and physical, that had been cruelly meted out by the two Dark Jedi even though they could sense the voracity of her claims. Hatred burned within her and she found new strength where she thought she was depleted, strength motivated by a desire to visit vengeance on those who had so callously hurt her, who had dared distract her from her noble cause to satisfy their sadistic curiosity and test her claims. Outrage welled within her at their depredations on her mind and body and somehow, Ariada found a way to walk. Her steps were weak andtentative, but she walked with purpose. She would see them pay and if that meant she had to walk, she would walk. Aspra Serpaddis nodded approvingly, then led her to a viewport that gave an excellent aft view of the frigate from its underside. Ariada’s eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing. Yanibar’s Helm was burning. The station seemed to be intact, but badly wounded. Beyond that, she could see distant flashes from what looked like a battle in the distance. A large detonation erupted either on Yanibar or in low orbit above it, visible even from this far away. Weapons fire was pursuing the Umbra’s Edge, some of it slamming into the aft shields. Ariada was instantly aghast. She had brought the Dark Jedi here so they would finally believe and accept her and this was how they repaid her? By attacking Yanibar? She could not sense any sentients in the battle who were not Yanibar Guard, so she suspected that Therior must have brought a large number of droids to serve as a distraction. That was no doubt why the Dark Jedi had insisted upon her camouflaging a 500-meter radius around the frigate at all times. If she had been outraged before, what welled up within her was beyond that. It was a raw fury, saturating every cell in her body, and with it came power. Unbelievable power like she had never felt before. While she had been in the presence of powerful Force-users, even been within ten meters of Luke Skywalker at one point, she had never experienced such an inundation of the Force personally. She felt like a supercapacitor, charged to full power and ready to unleash it on whatever stood in her way. Her previous weakness was banished, her mental state filled with nothing but pure hate. Wrathful, she whirled on Aspra Serpaddis. “What did he do?” she demanded. He regarded her coolly, giving no answer. Ariada snarled and clenched her fists, manifesting her anger in the Force. The Dark Jedi frowned, visibly concentrating as he tried to ward off her Force grip, but as empowered as she was by her fury, he stood no chance against her. He rose into the air helplessly, paralyzed by her command of the Force. “Tell me what Therior did or I will crush you one scale at a time,” she threatened. Her voice seemed deeper than she remembered it, laden with malice and thick with emotion. Raw, uncontrolled passion flowed through it, along with an iron will to dominate. It did not sound much like the voice she was used to, and yet she liked it somehow. It made her feel powerful. Aspra Serpaddis gasped for breath and she relented slightly so he could speak. “We attacked the space station,” he explained. “We hit it to stop it from activating those mines you spoke of and launched weapons at the surface to disrupt their communications in case of terrestrial control. The defenders are currently dealing with a distraction while we escape. We jump to hyperspace in less than five minutes.” Satisfied with his answer and its fidelity, she set him down. Fury still burned within her, but she had no immediate desire to vent it on Aspra Serpaddis. She would save her rage for the beings that truly deserved it. Also, there was the matter of one presence still approaching the Umbra’s Edge, undeterred or slowed by any diversion. Ariada immediately knew that Morgedh was coming and he would not stop hunting them. He would find them. She turned back to Aspra Serpaddis. “My lightsabers. Now.” Two minutes later, fully armed, Ariada strode into the bridge behind Aspra Serpaddis. If Therior was surprised to see her with her weapons, he didn’t show it. “Welcome, Ariada,” he said, a satisfied look on his face. “You have done well, as well as could be expected. As for the rest, well, our initial attack on the space station crippled its communications, and fission-fusion bombs do quite well at disrupting communications with their EMP blasts and sizeable fireball.” Ariada’s jaw dropped. “You dropped fission-fusion bombs on Yanibar?” she demanded. “Don’t look so indignant,” Therior said dismissively. “That’s not all we dropped either.” “How dare—,” she started “I’d stop right there if I were you,” he warned her coldly. “These are the same people who imprisoned you in the middle of an ice field and would have left you to rot in that hellhole until you died of old age, utterly alone. They are your enemies—you are with us now, so don’t start feeling sympathetic.” Angry enough to attack him, but fully aware that taking on three Dark Jedi while in the middle of a desperate flight from the Yanibar Guard was the height of imprudence, Ariada shut her mouth. Instead, she crossed her arms and fumed, biding her time until she could backstab him, just as he had used her to backstab the Yanibar Guard. “My lord,” a rather pale-looking officer approached Therior with a cloth-covered bundle. Therior scowled at it, risked a quick glance at Ariada, then decided he didn’t care. Stalking over to the officer, he pulled off the cloth to reveal a Yuuzhan Vong villip, a living communication device. He stroked it and the villip transformed into the three-dimensional representation of the head of a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. “Our ship has been damaged,” the Yuuzhan Vong told Therior. “We cannot escape to darkspace, so we shall stay and fight like true warriors!” “Did you get your package off?” Therior asked. The warrior smiled evilly. “Of course,” he said. “And did they see your ship for what it was?” “I don’t know,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered. “Let’s hope they didn’t,” Therior said, turning to the weapons officer. “Fire all weapons on his ship. Toss in a couple of those fission-fusion bombs as well. Make sure no trace remains.” The warrior’s expression shifted to outrage, but Therior simply stroked the villip again and it everted back into a docile state. Wiping his hand distastefully on the cloth, he flung it back at the hapless officer bearing the villip. “Savage fools, but they have their uses,” he commented smugly, ignoring the enraged state that Ariada had worked herself into. “Wouldn’t want to tip off those murglaks down there if we can avoid it.” She was trembling now, not with exhaustion, but out of sheer loathing for Therior. He had not only attacked Yanibar, but he had used the Yuuzhan Vong to do it. The very people she had sworn to bring to justice or eradicate were being used against a place she had once called home. Therior’s actions were the height of blasphemy, an abomination to everything she stood for and for that, she would kill him. Out of the viewport, she watched the frigate’s weapons demolish the Yuuzhan Vong ship. Caught unaware, it did not position its defensive dovin basals until it was too late. The turbolasers burned through the yorik coral and the following bomb detonations vaporized the wreckage. However, Therior’s order to direct all weapons on that target meant that there was no need for evasive flying from another threat, allowing it to catch up to the frigate unawares. A volley of torpedoes slammed into the frigate, momentarily collapsing its port shields. They were restored several seconds later as backups were brought online, but the damage had been done. “My lord, a small ship has just docked with us,” one of the officers reported. Therior whirled on the hapless man, his ire fully aroused. “Why did you not warn me of this?” “The sensors showed it onscreen, my lord,” the officer protested. “And you ordered us to fire on the other ship.” Therior let out an inarticulate cry of rage and gestured violently at the officer. The man was picked up by an invisible hand and hurled several meters back to slam into a bulkhead. He collapsed lifelessly, his neck broken. Ariada meanwhile realized with horror that Morgedh was now on the Umbra’s Edge. He had almost certainly seen the Yuuzhan Vong ship and he would be on his way to either the engine room or the bridge. While she would have no qualms about watching Morgedh and the Dark Jedi kill each other, should Morgedh win, she would be stranded in the Yanibar system. She would have to help them for now. “We have to stop him,” she told them. “Who?” Therior asked. “It’s Morgedh,” she said. “My teacher. He’s onboard the ship.” Therior laughed imperiously, giving her a haughty, condescending glare. “If you’re his star pupil, I don’t think we have too much to be worried about. Security, deal with the intruder.” “Yes, my lord.” Ariada fixed a cold stare on Therior, one completely devoid of empathy. A malicious smile spread across her face as she envisioned the idea of the arrogant Dark Jedi crossing blades with Morgedh clan Kel’nerh. “I hope you’re that confident thirty seconds after you meet him,” she said icily. “I hope you’re that confident when he disables the ship and leaves us stranded here, surrounded by that Yanibar Guard you were laughing at just a few minutes ago.” “She’s right, Therior,” Aspra Serpaddis said. “If he is as powerful as she says, we must deal with this.” Therior scowled, but gave a curt nod. “How long until we jump to hyperspace?” he asked. “Less than two minutes,” the helmswoman replied. “Jump as soon as possible,” Therior instructed her. “Do not wait for my signal.” Then, he reached into his belt and withdrew a gleaming ebony-handled lightsaber. A resolute mask of anger and disgust etched on his face, he strode for the door leading from the bridge. Aspra Serpaddis and Krakadas produced weapons of their own and followed him. Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Ariada followed along as well, making sure to bury her own agenda deep inside her where it could not be sensed. Over Rishi “All hands, prepare for battle,” Selu ordered crisply as the Lightbearer swung around. “Fighters move to screen the fleet.” The Yanibar Guard Fleet squadron was nearing the edge of the Yuuzhan Vong minefield cutting off Rishi from the rest of the galaxy. This far out from the planet, the world was a pale blue dot, its star a bright orb, no longer dominating their view. Selu paused for a moment, taking in the starscape around him. This close to the outskirts of the system, it was a beautiful scene, the inky black cosmos spattered and spangled with a plethora of gleaming pinpricks of light. Then a flight of Sabre starfighters crossed his field of vision and his mind snapped back to the present. “Are you sure the Vong will take the bait?” Admiral Hasla Almani Cyrreso asked him concernedly, a point of worry she had brought up more than once. “They have to,” Selu said. “If they don’t, we could be opening up a corridor for more reinforcements to arrive and grind their fleet into dust. This commander of theirs is more cautious—he won’t allow for that possibility. A more aggressive commander would simply try and take Rishi in our absence, but this particular Yuuzhan Vong seems more thoughtful.” Hasla nodded reluctantly. “I hope you’re right, sir,” she said, consulting her tactical board. “Fleet elements are ready to target the dovin basal mines,” she apprised him. “Good,” Selu replied. “Fire at will.” Lances of light shot out from the larger warships of the Yanibar Guard Fleet, targeting distant dovin basal mines. Though their defensive singularities consumed many of the energy blasts, others found their marks. The dovin basals were invisible against the black backdrop of space but gravitic sensors that had been hastily fashioned based on information provided by the New Republic gave a more detailed view of the effect the barrage was having. “Yuuzhan Vong fleet has left orbit,” one of the tactical officers reported. “Destination unknown.” Selu nodded approvingly. The Yuuzhan Vong were taking his bait, now he just had to ready the trap. “Are the mines ready?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” Hasla informed him. “Reserves are on standby.” Selu watched for five more minutes as his fleet continued to pummel the minefield with the distinctive violet turbolaser blasts of YGF. Pride and sadness welled up in him; pride for the knowledge that the crewbeings in the fleet were ready to fight and die for the cause of defending both Rishi and Yanibar, but sadness in knowing that many of them would soon likely be dead or grievously wounded. The weight of sending sentient beings into combat always bore heavily on Selu, but especially in conflicts of this magnitude. Those had been mercifully few since the founding of the Yanibar Guard, but Selu knew that every life lost here had a family member or friend back on Yanibar who would never see their loved one again. “Vong ships decanting from hyperspace, grid 007, mark 6,” the sensor officer informed him. Hasla hit the control and a holo display shimmered into view in front of the two flag officers. Two formations of Yuuzhan Vong ships, approximating a pincer, were closing on the Yanibar Guard Fleet’s position. Selu quickly ran the numbers in his head and frowned. The Yuuzhan Vong ships assembling to meet him comprised only a little over half of the total Yuuzhan Vong force. If his estimates of their warship strength were correct, the Yuuzhan Vong were sending an outgunned and outnumbered flotilla in to engage him. “Where’s the rest of them?” Hasla asked. “I’m not sure,” Selu said warily. “I don’t like this.” “They are closing fast,” the sensor officer warned him. “Effective weapons range in five minutes.” “We only have a few more minutes to disengage,” Hasla reminded him. “If we fight them here, their dovin basals will ruin our escape vectors.” “I know,” Selu said, indecision momentarily plaguing him. He paced back and forth, his mind racing with a hundred possibilities. “Sir, incoming transmission from General Rayven,” he was informed. “Pull it up,” Selu ordered. “We’re under heavy attack!” the general exclaimed. “Vong ground forces everywhere! They tunneled into the eastern refugee camp and are attacking our base. They must have landed all those troops while we were busy with the convoy.” “What’s your status, General?” Selu asked. “Can you hold?” “Maybe,” the general replied doubtfully. “Their air support is hard to shake. Coralskips are making life hell for our boys. Our Stilettos can’t take them.” “Copy that,” Selu said. “Admiral, dispatch eight squadrons of fighters back to Rishi. Tell them to microjump to the planet.” “What if it’s a trap?” she asked. “We’ll have to take that chance,” Selu answered grimly. “The base falls if we don’t. Send the Shien-class frigates and the Jalsinnare back with them; they’ll be more useful groundside. I don’t want to commit the full fleet to supporting the ground battle until we know for sure the Vong aren’t going to pin us into low orbit and wipe us out.” Selu turned back to the tactical display representing the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, his mind made up by news of the terrestrial assault. “Engage the DMS mines and prepare for microjump,” he said. “We need to take out as many of them as possible so we can deal with the rest quickly.” “We’re sacrificing a strategic opportunity to trap the entire fleet,” Hasla warned him. “This will only work once.” “This is the best chance we’re going to get,” Selu told her. “The minefield is weakened. I want one of our options to be evacuating our people off of Rishi and punching out. If we don’t deal with at least part of the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, we won’t have that choice.” “Understood,” she said. “Activating mines.” Selu watched as green circles erupted on the sensor board, representing each DMS mine detonation. Out in space, tendrils of emerald energy erupted from the mines in spherical symmetry, blossoming to engulf the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. Fluctuating and writhing, the tendrils spread in every direction, undulating like some kind of agonized creature fighting to free itself from captivity. Then, at their apex, the emerald energy waves imploded, collapsing in on themselves and engulfing the affected area in utter blackness. Not even the stars were visible behind the cloud of dark matter and Selu knew that enough of the mines had burst successfully to render the area unnavigable for some time. Whereas the mass shadow generator weapon of old had needed the gravitic peculiarities of the Malachor system to perform its insidious task, the DMS mines had no such limitation. This time, their usage would not cause such hideous collateral damage. As Selu watched the green energy subside, flickering into nothingness, he knew that the Yuuzhan Vong were trapped, hopelessly trapped beyond all hope of escape. “Fleet jumping in three . . . two . . . one,” Hasla informed him. The Yanibar Guard Fleet jumped to hyperspace in unison, though it remained at superluminal velocities for only a few seconds, re-emerging just outside the radiation belts enclosing Rishi and its moon. “All boards showing clear for the moment,” Hasla said. “The fighters and Jalsinnare are on their way to assist on the fight groundside.” Selu nodded at her words, knowing that she was correct, but something about the situation bothered him on a visceral level. Where were the other Yuuzhan Vong fleet assets? How had they managed to launch a ground assault of surprising sophistication as soon as the Yanibar Guard Fleet moved to attack the minefield? He felt the worry twisting through him, so palpable that it provoked actual physical discomfort in his stomach. Then the sensor boards lit up with dozens of contacts, all winking from gray “unknown” to red “hostile” and the worry was like a cold knife plunged straight through him. “Vong ships emerging around us on multiple attack vectors!” the sensor officer reported. “But how did they know?” “I don’t see their flagship,” Selu commented. “And there are too many ships here compared to what they had earlier. They’ve been reinforced.” “Doesn’t matter, we’re outnumbered,” Hasla responded icily. “This is clearly a trap.” “Admiral, you have the fleet,” Selu told her. “I’m going to prepare for the end.” “Understood,” Hasla replied, toggling her comm to address the fleet. “Move to formation Cresh Three-Eight, all batteries engage at will. May the Force be with us.” The Lightbearer shook as the shields of the ponderous warship absorbed the first volley of projectiles from the Yuuzhan Vong fleet, then shuddered again as its main weapons, enormous cannons that had originally been w-65 planetary defense turbolasers unleashed violet energy blasts twenty meters in diameter towards the marauding Yuuzhan Vong armada. Starfighters broke free of the Yanibar Guard formation to strike against marauding coralskippers while larger warships exchanged barrages of plasma cannons and turbolasers while jockeying for position. The surrounding space was soon saturated with explosions and debris as full battle was joined. The larger warships of the Yanibar Guard clustered up into a teardrop formation, screened by squadrons of starfighters. Overlapping fields of fire blasted away at the encroaching Yuuzhan Vong squadrons, while molten plasma projectiles and insectoid grutchins were hurled back in response. As the insects swooped closer, rows of StarfirePD point defense batteries on the capital ships opened fire, spitting thousands of blaster bolts, constantly swiveling and traversing to chew through the swarm of hull-eating grutchins. As the remainder swooped in closer, secondary flak cannons fired explosive shells into their midst, shredding them with shrapnel and severely weakening that avenue of Yuuzhan Vong attack. However, the return fire of the Yanibar Guard Fleet turbolasers was just as ineffectual. Dovin basals generated singularities to consume turbolaser blasts and missiles, swallowing damage that would have ravaged comparable Imperial or New Republic ships. Only after the Yanibar Guard ships received coordinated firing solutions and targeting vectors did their gunnery truly begin to have any effect on the Yuuzhan Vong formation. Meanwhile, the intuitive telepathic mind of the Yuuzhan Vong yammosk war coordinator rapidly sensed that massed attacks by coralskippers and grutchins were having limited effect. It commanded the Yuuzhan Vong formations to attack in a swarming fashion, slashing in from all angles to dilute the defensive fire. The tactic was successful and the Ataru-class gunship Even Piell was the first to wither under the assault, hulled repeatedly by plasma blasts and beleaguered by grutchins chewing into the engine compartments. Both sides were trading blows.
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