| abstract
| - Selu waited at the bottom of the ramp inside the Daara’sherum’s forward hangar bay, staring out through the translucent shimmering magcon shield that kept the atmosphere inside. From the black star-speckled backdrop of space, a small gray dot slowly resolved itself from the distance, growing as it drew nearer. Within a few minutes, the inconspicuous freighter had arrived, swooping through the magcon shield to settle down on the dull gray hangar floor with practice ease. Its landing gear made contact and puffs of gas efflux emerged from braking thrusters as it parked on the zone designated by a uniformed flight controller. A protective detail of armored commandos and an Elite Guardian stood nearby. Once its engines whined down, Selu approached the ship, reaching it just as its boarding ramp lowered. Milya and Tyria descended from the ramp, ushering a young redhaired woman in a simple tunic and pants down in front of them. Novera’s hands were force-cuffed, but aside from those and her two potent guards, she was unrestrained. "Take her to the brig,” Selu instructed the protective detail. “Protocol Seven.” “Yes, sir,” the commando leader replied. Milya reluctantly surrendered her charge over to them. “Is this necessary?” she asked with a frown. “For a highly-trained Force-using murderer and saboteur, she’s lucky that’s all the precaution I’m taking,” Selu replied. “We have only your word that she’s not dangerous.” “I’m no threat to you, Master Kraen,” Novera spoke up. Selu gave her an even look, appraising the young assassin. “I hope not,” he replied. “Until we can be sure, you’ll forgive my prudence.” He nodded and they led Novera away. “I’ll visit you soon,” Milya assured her as Novera shot one last worried look back at her. “Bringing her here is dangerous,” Selu remarked. “Jedi Tainer, what do you think?” Tyria shrugged. “The only better place for her would be the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I’d be concerned about the escape risk anywhere else,” she said. “True enough,” Selu agreed. “Master Katarn is waiting for you in the guest quarters. He wishes to discuss Master Skywalker’s condition.” Tyria took the hint and left, allowing Selu to escort Milya to a nearby secure conference room. “Fill me in,” Milya replied simply once the door had sealed shut behind them and the conference room’s security console indicated they were secure. “Ryion and Jaina have been captured,” Selu said. “Ariada demanded their surrender and they complied. She threatened to kill Shara and destroy Cloud City if they refused.” “Go on,” Milya said, her face frozen into an expressionless mask. She was internalizing her emotions, clearing them away so she could function with the cold rational logic that was demanded of the Director of Yanibar Guard Intelligence. “Shara was supposed to have been released under the terms of the deal, but she hasn’t turned up yet,” Selu said. “No reason to think Ariada lived up to her end of the bargain.” “Her history isn’t exactly in favor of it,” Milya remarked curtly. “There’s still no word from Skywalkers and Solos either,” Selu said. “Master Katarn’s been in contact with the Jedi Council; they’ve sent a party to the Drexel system to investigate. Their preliminary reports indicate that the system is inaccessible to hyperspace travel.” “An interdictor ship?” Milya asked. “I would think that’s quite out of Ariada’s budget.” “Sensor sweeps found high concentrations of dark matter,” Selu explained. “Sound familiar?” Milya nodded grimly. “A dark mass shadow mine,” she said. “Ariada worked with Sarth to develop them.” Dark mass shadow mines were developed by the Yanibar Guard during the Yuuzhan Vong War specifically to deal with the alien ships. While the mine’s explosion did little actual damage, it left behind a large expanse of dark matter that quickly engulfed billions of cubic kilometers, rendering hyperspace inaccessible for any ship caught within the trap, as well as cutting off hypercomm signals. While the effects could be countered with the proper application of anti-matter charges to clear corridors through the dark matter, the Yuuzhan Vong’s reliance on biotechnology meant that they likely didn’t have ready access to anti-matter, unlike most standard galactic militaries powered by normal reactors. They could be crippling to an enemy unaware of their effects, as the ships would be trapped inside, only able to maneuver via sublight engines, which could take weeks to escape the bubble, but they were not lethal, particularly to a full battle fleet and the appropriate technical knowledge. “I’m impressed she managed to reverse-engineer the technology,” Selu answered. “Nevertheless, the Jedi have already sent a relief expedition with the necessary anti-matter to free the system from its effects. They should arrive any time now.” “Good,” Milya answered. “At least that explains where they’ve been.” “Hopefully,” Selu told her. “We still don’t know what happened in there, but none of the Jedi reported sensing any deaths.” “Which of course could be hampered by ysalamiri bubbles,” Milya finished. “I get the holo.” “So that leaves us with Tython,” Selu said. “If your source is accurate, we can threaten Ariada with its destruction if she doesn’t surrender.” “And if she chooses to cut her losses?” Milya warned him. “She could try to use Jaina, Ryion, and Shara as leverage.” “She won’t get that chance. We have more hidden leverage,” Selu told her. “Ryion and Jaina left us a clue.” “What? How?” Milya asked. “They rigged their ship with tracking particles,” Selu said. “The solid-state transponders in the particles are providing us with real-time location information on the whereabouts of her ship, accurate to within about a million cubic kilometers.” “Won’t the cloak on her ship hide them?” Milya asked. “The transponders are networked,” Selu said. “Some of them fall off the ship at set intervals when it’s in realspace and burst-transmit a different frequency when they detach. We can map out not only where she is, but what her path has been.” “It’s simple, then,” Milya replied. “We coordinate with the Galactic Alliance and take her down. I’m sure it won’t take much convincing for them to provide the firepower and interdiction ships needed to hold her in place.” “Let’s just hope Ryion, Shara, and Jaina aren’t paying too high of a price,” Selu replied grimly. Selu’s comlink chirped. He picked it up and saw that the call was from the comlink he’d loaned to Master Katarn, so he activated it, setting it to speaker mode. “Go ahead, Master Katarn,” Selu said. “We should talk,” the Jedi Master answered simply. A few minutes later, Kyle and Tyria arrived at the conference room and were admitted. Once they were all seated around the broad rectangular table that dominated the room, Selu gestured for Kyle to speak. The Jedi Master’s bearded face was solemn. “The Jedi Temple just contacted me again,” he informed them. “They relayed a message from the Galactic Alliance. Ariada’s apparently given them a quiet threat, but it’s a very dangerous one.” “Go ahead,” Milya told him. “She said she’s left four bombs containing the technobeast virus on Coruscant,” Kyle explained gravely. “If the hunt for her isn’t called off, she’ll detonate them and infect millions.” Selu and Milya were aghast at the news. “She wouldn’t,” Selu said. “All of her attacks thus far have been fairly localized, as if to avoid galactic pandemic. She wouldn’t dare deviate now.” “The Jedi Council is concerned about the possibility,” Kyle admitted. “So is the Galactic Alliance. Their analysts have noticed an alarming pattern of . . . escalation in her attacks. We have to treat this as a real threat.” “It most likely is,” Milya replied. “Ariada doesn’t bluff much.” “She’s kept it quiet for now, but warned us that just the announcement would cause mass panic,” Kyle said. “That alone could cripple Coruscant for months on end.” “So the Galactic Alliance is quietly complying with her for now until they can figure out a better solution,” Milya surmised. “Unfortunately,” Kyle answered. “Blast! Just when we found a way to track her and could use the Galactic Alliances’s help!” Selu muttered. At the quizzical looks from Kyle and Tyria, he quickly explained about the transponders that Ryion and Jaina had tagged her ship with. “We have another two weeks at the most before we run out of transponders,” Selu concluded. “We believe we can both catch her and deal with her lab on Tython in that time frame . . . if we have Galactic Alliance support.” “That’s a big risk,” Tyria answered worriedly. “The Galactic Alliance no doubt doesn’t like cooperating with Ariada, but we’re talking about galactic panic, economic upheaval, and millions of casualties on the line here.” “The other part of it is that she has Jaina Solo, as well as my son,” Selu added. “Ariada has a lot of leverage right now, and she’s using it.” “So we take it away,” Milya suggested. “If we can’t trap her the old-fashioned way, we sneak onboard her ship and neutralize her.” “How do we stop her from activating the bombs?” Selu asked. “Hit the ship’s comm array with an ion charge on the way in,” Milya said. “We get close, find out where the prisoners are held, then we hit them with an ion charge right before we board. Their comms will be scrambled long enough for us to free the prisoners and stop Ariada.” “In the meantime, we can arrange for the Daara’sherum to pay this lab on Tython a visit,” Selu added. “I’m sure they can find a way to deal with it.” “It’s a risky plan,” Tyria pointed out. “If it goes wrong, a lot of people could die. Do you think Novera knows about the bombs?” “Possibly,” Milya said. “It’s worth asking her about.” “That may be our best bet. Her leverage isn’t going away, and our window of opportunity to find her is,” Kyle answered. “I’ll need to inform the Jedi Council, but if this is the best route, count me in.” Selu’s comlink chirped again. “Well, I appear to be popular,” Selu quipped, answering it. “Master Kraen, incoming priority message from Yanibar,” the bridge comm officer informed him. “Understood. Stand by,” Selu said, then turned to the two Jedi. “If you’ll excuse us . . .” “We understand,” Kyle said, gesturing to Tyria. “We’ll talk this over more later.” “Of course,” Selu assured them. They both rose and left. Once the room was clear, Selu prompted the bridge officer to relay the conversation to the room’s holoprojector. A minute later, a holographic representation of Cassi appeared, but she was wearing unusually professional attire: a formal suit instead of her normal casual wardrobe. “Cassi, how is Sarth?” Milya asked. “He’s still recovering. It’s a slow process, but we’re managing,” Cassi replied. Selu frowned as he looked at the message details appended to the datastream. “Cassi, it appears this message was sent using the Ruling Council’s protocols,” he said. “Yes, that’s why I’m calling,” Cassi explained. “Your ship was incommunicado the last few days; we’ve been trying to reach you.” “So why the Council protocols?” Selu asked. “Because I’m on the Council now,” Cassi revealed. “Provisionally, pending a full vote, I’m actually chairing it.” Selu and Milya exchanged surprised looks. “Congratulations are in order, I suppose,” Selu said slowly. “Last I heard, they were talking about having Sarth chair the Council. What happened?” “I volunteered,” Cassi answered simply. “Sarth was already overwhelmed with his technical work before being injured. Adding to that responsibility was simply too much for him.” She seemed pensive, concerned about Selu and Milya’s guarded response, so Milya did her best to put her sister-in-law at ease. “Well, I couldn’t think of anyone better for the job,” Milya told her. “With Selu and I busy out here and your prior experience running a relief organization for refugees, you’re exactly the chair the Council needs right now.” “Thank you,” Cassi said appreciatively. “I still have a lot of catching up to do in terms of understanding the position, but . . . at this point, the provisional members of the Council are just looking for stability.” “I understand,” Milya replied soberly. “Just do your best. We’ll be back as soon as we can stop Ariada.” “How is that going?” Cassi asked. “We may have a lead on her, but it’s a risky one,” Selu responded. “She has Ryion and Shara, but they left us a way to track her.” Cassi paled. “Are they all right?” “Hard to say,” Selu answered tersely. “But she’s threatening millions of people with destruction if we interfere with her again. Stopping her before she can react will be difficult.” “I trust you’ll make the right decision,” Cassi said soberly. “There’s no real update on the evacuation effort. Sarth’s still trying to find a way to get all of the ships off the ground. It’s . . . not looking good.” Selu and Milya appeared downcast at the news. “We’ll do what we can,” Cassi assured them. “I know,” Selu replied. “But we need to finalize the contingency plans. How do plans look for leasing ships or carrying reduced cargo?” “We’ve already cut back the cargo manifests as low as we dare,” Cassi warned him. “Atlaradis may be a wonderful planet, but given that we won’t be able to import anything, it’s crucial that we be as self-sufficient as possible. As for leasing ships . . . we’d need a lot of ships. At this point, the evacuation ships can only lift off and make it into hyperspace at half-capacity.” Selu exhaled heavily. “That’s not what the earliest models showed when we designed them,” he reminded her. “The earliest models were constructed assuming different engine specifications,” Cassi reminded him. “They had to change the design and materials to even be able to complete them all within the deadline.” “Which doesn’t even matter if the ships can’t do their job,” Selu fumed, then softened his tone. “I know, it’s not your fault. I’m just frustrated that I can’t be back there helping. We are not leaving half our people behind.” “I understand. It’s been hard on all of us,” Cassi said. “There’s one other thing you should know. Rhiannon’s come back to visit, and she brought one of her sons with her.” “She is?” Milya asked instantly. “What for? Is something wrong?” Cassi left unsaid a comment about how Milya immediately asked if something was wrong when her daughter came to visit. The prolonged separation between mother and daughter had never sat well with her, but she knew that mentioning it would only cause Milya further grief, especially in light of the news she had for her, so she refrained. “You could say that,” Cassi explained. “Their community voted in favor of resettling on Naos instead of Atlaradis.” “What?” Milya demanded. “You can’t be serious.” “Unfortunately,” Cassi replied. “Why would they do that?” Selu asked. “There’s no logical reason to pick Naos over Atlaradis!” “There’s no logical reason to live Outside either,” Cassi reminded him. “These people wanted to be independent and free—and they’ve never really trusted us. They like having contact with the rest of the galaxy and the Naotian representatives apparently made them a good offer.” Selu threw up his hands in disgust. “So it’s come to this,” he said bitterly. “The reason Rhiannon’s come back to visit is to say her last goodbyes, and we’re not even there to see her. Just when I thought we had a chance of being together as a family again.” “How can you be so sure she’ll leave forever?” Milya asked him. “Oh, I know,” Selu replied sourly. “She made that choice twenty years ago when she married Kavlis Burke. If their entire community is going to Naos, then she’s going with them.” “Kavlis was actually the one who asked her to visit, to come Inside and make her decision after experiencing both sides of the decision,” Cassi put in. Selu nodded. “He’s a good man,” Selu replied. “Which is unfortunate for me, because if he wasn’t, then I never would’ve let Rhiannon within a kilometer of him. Nevertheless, when her decision is finally made, she’ll go with him.” “And she should,” Cassi added. “She’s not just your daughter. She’s a wife and a mother and a friend and if she’s anything like her parents, then she’s a key part of their community.” Selu sighed heavily. “I know,” he said. “I just wish it could’ve been different.” “It’s not a sure thing,” Milya replied. “There is still hope.” Selu shook his head. “Even if you could persuade her, or even her entire family, to leave the rest of their community and come with us, would you want to?” “Of course I would,” Milya insisted. “I’ve been on Atlaradis. I’ve seen how much better it is than Yanibar, or even Naos.” “Which matters surprisingly little if the people you love aren’t there,” Selu remarked. “I’d choose Raxus Prime over Hapes if you were on Raxus.” “I note how you’re leaving us out of the ‘people you love’ category,” Milya answered dryly. She rose from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to Novera, see if she knows anything about Ariada’s latest leverage,” she said before leaving. “I apologize for that,” Selu told Cassi. “She’s taking the news rather hard, and not being there only makes it more difficult. I suspect she’s known that we would be separated from Rhiannon permanently for a long time, but hasn’t wanted to face it.” Cassi nodded understandingly. “And how about you?” Selu pursed his lips. “In my heart, I have always known that Rhiannon’s destiny would be different than mine. That is something I struggled to come to terms with for many years, but now, knowing that she will be with the people she is closest to, I am at peace. That is the best I could hope for my daughter.” Cassi smiled at him. “She’s staying at my place, and it’s wonderful to see her again,” she said. “I’ll see if we can arrange for her to talk with you and Milya.” “I’d like that very much,” Selu told her. “No telling how long we’ll be out here—we’ll definitely make the next scheduled check-in.” “Rhiannon said she could stay for up to a month,” Cassi told him. “I’ll arrange for her and Tavin to come to the next check-in so you can talk to her.” “Thank you,” Selu said. “It would mean a lot to both of us.” “Any time,” Cassi replied. “Stay safe out there, and may the Force be with you.” “And with you,” Selu answered. “We’ll do what we can.” “That’s all we really can ask anyway,” Cassi said. “Until next time.” The hologram dissipated into nothingness, leaving Selu to sit thoughtfully at the table for several minutes before moving on. Zonama Sekot Zeyn looked out across the impromptu camp that the Yuuzhan Vong had formed around the Dragon Cave. It was sunrise on Zonama Sekot and the burning golden orb cast sunbeams around a lone figure looking out at it from the edge of ridge, catching her hair in its warm glow. Too slight and blonde to be a Yuuzhan Vong, Zeyn knew it was Danni. They hadn’t spoken in the two days since their last conversation, and he had to admit, it had been a lonely convalescence. Over the past several days that they had been stuck together, he had grown accustomed to at least having her to talk to, even if there had been nothing to talk about. She’d been avoiding him. He was sure that if he asked her about it, that she would merely say she had been working to help the Yuuzhan Vong shapers construct a cure to Ariada’s virus. She felt indebted to him, yet he’d callously hurled vitriol at her the last time they’d spoken. In truth, Zeyn was still angry that she’d divulged the precarious nature of the Yanibar colony to the Yuuzhan Vong, but he also knew that some of the trust she’d placed in him had been eroded by his ill-tempered remarks. He grimaced, knowing he was going to have to earn some of that trust back eventually if he wanted to restore their rapport. While his mission didn’t require him to be on good terms with Danni Quee, he felt bad for hurting her. The level of remorse was enough to give him pause, knowing that he was feeling the seeds of some dangerous emotions. He would have to tread lightly. Easing himself up slowly, he found he had the strength to stand. The dull pain in his gut and ankle flared up, sending spots through his vision, but he steadied himself. Neither of his arms was fully functional and his balance was tenuous from the concussion sustained in the fight against the assassin, but he was able to limp forward. Slowly, he made his way over to where Danni was standing at the ledge. He noticed that she had managed to clean up over the last couple days and her clean skin stood in stark contrast to his still-dirty and haggard appearance. She turned slightly to see him there. “Good to see you up,” she told him. “Agreed,” Zeyn replied. “How are you doing?” “I’m okay, I guess,” she said listlessly. “It’s been a rough past few days. It’s catching up with me now that I have time to breathe and process all of it.” “I understand,” he answered, then hesitated. “About two days ago . . . I said some things harshly. What I mean is, I’m sorry.” “Me too,” Danni admitted, nibbling on her lower lip nervously. “I should have been more respectful with the things you told me. I didn’t realize they were spoken in confidence—I was just trying to help.” “I know,” Zeyn said. “It’s my fault for even asking in the first place. That’s how it always starts,” she continued distractedly. “I get caught up trying to learn or do something, and it comes back to bite me. I went out to ExGal-4 and the Yuuzhan Vong attacked, nearly killed me a dozen times over. I came out here after five years of horrible war to find peace and learn about Zonama Sekot, only to find that makes me a target for a ruthless assassin and gets my best friend killed. Then I pry into your life and end up giving away the secrecy of your people after you saved me.” She was rambling now, and felt foolish for doing so, but the onrush of words kept spilling out of her, releasing emotions she’d bottled for days on end. Zeyn gave her an impassive look. "I’m sorry,” she said softly, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.” “Someone needed to hear it,” he answered, equally softly. “You’re strong, Danni Quee, but there’s no shame in admitting when you can’t endure alone.” “I suppose not,” she said. “And you? Are you alone also?” Zeyn scanned the horizon for a moment before replying. “I have my teammates and my people,” he said. “It is enough.” She took the remark in stride, then shifted subjects. “What will you do next?” she asked. “I can probably walk by tomorrow,” he said. “I need to find out if my ship is reachable. I need to contact my people, assess the current situation.” “What do you want me to do?” she asked. Zeyn shrugged. “Whatever you think is best,” he said. “I can barely walk, much less protect you right now, so it may be safer here if you trust the Yuuzhan Vong. If you’d rather come with me, that’s fine also.” She stared at him, confused. “That’s a significant shift from the single-minded planning you were showing earlier,” she said uncertainly. “Do you not want me along?” “Up to you,” he said. “I need to determine what the threat to your life is, and then we can proceed from there. If you’re still in danger, then I’ll stay as long as I’m needed.” “What if you’re ordered elsewhere?” she asked inquisitively. Zeyn hesitated. “I doubt I would be if a definite threat remained,” he said. “I would argue strongly against leaving you unguarded if that was the case.” “And if there’s no threat?” He shrugged. “Then my mission will be complete, and I’m sure I’ll be either reassigned or return home,” he said. “Will you speak with your mother when you get home?” she pressed. “Of course,” Zeyn replied stiffly. “I promised I would.” “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” she told him. “I can see you’re not fully healed yet—best give it some more time.” She used her last words as a farewell and walked off, leaving him standing alone, pensive. Zeyn wasn’t sure whether her reference to his status reflected his physical injuries or the betrayal he’d felt when the Yuuzhan Vong revealed they knew of Yanibar’s plight. He gazed out over the ledge as the sun continued to rise over Zonama Sekot. The slight crunch of heavy footfalls alerted him to the approach of another, and the weight of the tread was far too heavy for Danni’s light steps. Zeyn bristled as he realized it could only be a Yuuzhan Vong. He turned slowly to see Niull Shac regarding him. “Need something?” he asked. The Yuuzhan Vong’s dark eyes glinted as he detected the undercurrent of suspicion in Zeyn’s voice. “We have located your ship,” he said. “It is contaminated with the pathogen.” Zeyn scowled. “If you do not believe me, I can have some of the shapers show you to it,” Niull Shac told him. “We have not tampered with it.” “Thanks,” Zeyn replied, “but if it is contaminated, then I can’t exactly use it, can I?” Zeyn didn’t exactly trust Niull Shac’s report, as there were many valid reasons the Yuuzhan Vong would want to deny him access to his ship if they were planning something, but he could always verify that later, when he had the strength to make it to his ship alone. “Perhaps,” Niull Shac replied mildly. “That’s not all we found.” “What else did you find?” Zeyn asked. “Another ship,” Niull Shac explained. “Outside the quarantine zone. Her ship.” Zeyn’s eyebrow arched. “We have no use for such a thing,” Niull Shac told him. “But you might.” “That I might,” Zeyn agreed. “This way,” Niull Shac told him, leading him through the tampasi. “It is not far, less than half a day’s walk.” In Zeyn’s weakened condition, he wasn’t sure that he should really be hiking through the forest instead of healing. In all honesty, he could have asked Niull Shac to lead him to it the next day. However, his stubborn pride also forced him to refuse showing weakness in front of a Yuuzhan Vong. That much candor was simply too much to ask. Zeyn stopped by to pick up his armor and weapons belt on his way over. The Yuuzhan Vong might’ve been keeping him here as part of a charade because they needed something, but alone in the forest might provide greater opportunities to dispose of him. Danni saw him across the camp and approached him as he prepared to follow Niull Shac. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Niull Shac said he’s found the assassin’s ship,” Zeyn told her. “I’m going to investigate, since my ship’s inside the quarantine zone. I’ll be back by nightfall.” “Should I come with you?” “Up to you,” he said. “Wherever you feel safer.” Danni wordlessly grabbed her pack and tagged along as Niull Shac led them through the thick tampasi. The sun rose higher as they trekked through the thick brush. Zeyn’s breathing was soon labored from the exertion, his weakened body struggling under the demands placed upon it, but he refused to admit discomfort or fatigue. His willpower and determination not to fail in his mission sustained him, while he split his caution between his surroundings and watching Niull Shac for any sign of a double-cross. There was little conversation between them, for Zeyn was in no mood to talk and simply traversing the rugged terrain was taxing enough. Danni and Niull Shac had a few scattered conversations, but Zeyn’s brooding silence was enough to quell at least Danni from prolonged exchanges. He kept himself in between Danni and the Yuuzhan Vong, and the positioning alone also aided in stifling conversation. While he had done it to be in a protective position, the relative silence was an added secondary perk. It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached their destination. The journey had been grueling, but otherwise uneventful, and Zeyn was relieved that no further threat had manifested itself—he was unsure of his ability to defend Danni at the moment. Niull Shac gestured at a thicket of trees and Zeyn peered inside to see the distinctive silhouette of a small transport. The pod-shaped craft had a pair of stabilizers extending from its aft as well as stubby outriggers along the fuselage, allowing him to identify it as a Skipray Blastboat, a well-armed, sturdy vessel that had been in service for many years. Zeyn carefully surveyed the ground around the vehicle, advancing cautiously. “We didn’t approach it too closely,” Niull Shac said. “One of our warriors perished in an explosion when they found it.” “Mines, probably,” Zeyn muttered. “Good news is that it’s not likely that it’s equipped with a remote self-destruct.” “Why not?” Danni asked. “Because I can’t imagine one of Ariada’s assassins wanting to be stuck on a planet full of Yuuzhan Vong that she intends to poison without a way to get off just because some locals found her ship,” he said as he slowly circled the craft. “It’s not camouflaged that well, likely because she was in a hurry, possibly sensed me coming.” Despite his reassuring words, there was a sense of a growing danger in Zeyn’s mind, though he couldn’t quite place it. Possibly there were more unexploded mines in the area. “Stay back,” he warned them. “I sense some kind of threat.” There was a sudden snapping of branches and a flurry of leaves arose from the broad branches sheltering the Skipray. Zeyn leaped aside just as a trio of cluster rockets exploded where he’d been standing, his lightsaber already in hand before he landed. Shrapnel from the explosions lanced out, nicking his right hand, but he ignored the fresh wound. One of the menacing war droids that he’d faced twice now swung down from the branches to hit the ground near him with a loud thud. Zeyn saw Niull Shac push Danni into cover while he turned to face the threat. “Intruders,” the droid rumbled in a deep mechanized voice. “Not just any intruders—the ones that Qixoni seeks. How promising.” Zeyn knew he was in trouble—the droid had interposed itself between him and Danni, and he already knew they could be formidable opponents. To divert its attention, he shouted out to the droid. “If you’re talking about the assassin, she’s dead!” “Unlikely,” the droid growled, turning its repeating blasters on him. Zeyn stood his ground, using his lightsaber to deflect the incoming streams of fire, but the ones he directed back at the droid simply glanced off of hazy shields. The droid’s third arm swiveled around to fire on Niull Shac, who had drawn a coufee knife and charged it. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior didn’t hesitate, continuing his rush even when the droid’s arm blasted him with freezing cryospray, which he ducked under. Faced with a threat that its secondary arm couldn’t stop, the droid started to switch to point its two primary arms at Niull Shac while its third arm kept Zeyn at bay. The moment of transition was an opportunity, though, and Zeyn took it. Using the Force, he torqued the secondary arm in mid-firing sequence to point at the droid’s head. As expected, a safety protocol prevented the droid from firing on itself, allowing him to lunge forward and skewer it on his lightsaber. The droid roared and thrashed around wildly, knocking him loose and convulsing as its shield overloaded, sending tendrils of electricity skittering across its body. It staggered three more steps towards Niull Shac before collapsing lifelessly, Zeyn’s lightsaber hilt still embedded in its back. Niull Shac stalked forward, his left arm hanging wounded at one side and drew the lightsaber out, marveling at it. Then, he found the power switch and deactivated the blade. Stalking forward, he offered the weapon to Zeyn hilt-first. “Good kill,” the Yuuzhan Vong told him. Zeyn accepted the lightsaber slowly. “Good diversion,” he returned, unsure of why Niull Shac had employed such a seemingly suicidal tactic by charging the droid. He knew the Yuuzhan Vong had little in the way of self-preservation instinct, but to deliberately sacrifice himself for seemingly no gain seemed unnatural. That added to the growing confusion in his mind about the Yuuzhan Vong perspective that had been niggling him since being saved and healed by the aliens he had once fought against so bitterly. Zeyn shook his head slightly to refocus himself on the task at hand. He could contemplate Yuuzhan Vong philosophy when their position wasn’t so tenuous. “Stay back, I’m going to check for any more surprises,” he told the others as he began circling the perimeter in a search for traps. There were five more mines arrayed around the ship, and another one tucked away into the recess near the rear access door. Zeyn carefully disarmed each one, then began slicing into the lock. The AI built into his suit was offline, but he was able to breach the lock without too much effort using a preprogrammed slicing routine that cycled through a vast array of possible entries. In a few minutes, the hatch unsealed and he entered the Skipray Blastboat slowly, checking for danger. There was one more mine leading towards the bridge, and Zeyn took care to disarm it before proceeding. The ship was otherwise unoccupied, though it had been extensively modified. Ariada had packed in a small bunk, refresher station, and a workbench for field modifications along with racks and recharging stations for the droids. The laser cannon turret had the option to be fired remotely from the main bridge. Zeyn also noted with relief that the ship had an expensive full-range hypercomm onboard. “It’s clear,” he told the others. Niull Shac declined to enter, no doubt averse to being around that much machinery. Some Yuuzhan Vong beliefs, such as distaste for inorganic equipment, were no doubt deeply-rooted in their culture. Danni, however, entered and looked around while Zeyn seated himself at the main pilot’s chair and attempted to slice into the hypercomm. It was slow going and he soon found himself frustrated. His fatigue and unhealed wounds only added an unnecessary distraction that was compounded by a difficulty in breathing. “Are you doing okay?” she asked, noting his labored breathing. “I’m fine,” Zeyn lied, though he suspected that his abdominal wound had re-opened in the struggle with the droid. For once, he was actually thankful that his AI, whom he’d named Backup, wasn’t online. The program was sometimes too worrying for Zeyn’s tastes, and would have revealed his injury to Danni. On the other hand, if Backup was working, the AI could have probably sliced into the ship’s computer already. Computer work had never been Zeyn’s specialty. He considered bypassing it manually and trying to directly splice the hypercomm cables to the power supply, but the likelihood of the device working properly if he did that was slim—he wasn’t much of a mechanic either. That had been Ryion’s and Qedai’s preferred areas of expertise. “Can I help?” Danni asked. “It’s been a while, but I’m not bad with computers.” Zeyn was sufficiently vexed that he didn’t brush her offer aside. “Sure,” he said. “Maybe you can make more headway with it.” Vacating the pilot’s chair, he gestured for her to take over while he rummaged through the rest of the ship. Danni was soon engrossed enough in her work that Zeyn was sure she didn’t see him find the medical kit. Turning so his back was to her, Zeyn peeled off his lower-body armor sheath to expose the unhealed stab wound. Sure enough, it had re-opened and was seeping blood. Thankfully, there seemed to be no sign of infection. Zeyn dabbed the wound with a bacta gel and then applied a fresh bandage over it, glad that it wasn’t one of the organic creatures the Yuuzhan Vong used for healing. He taped the bandage in place with space tape and then reached for the armor plating to hook it back into place. A twinge of pain shot through his freshly-aggravated wound and he halted, grunting as black spots swam across his vision. He sat back slowly, taking deep, gradual breaths until his eyesight returned to normal. “A little slower next time, Zeyn,” he told himself as started to reach for the plate again. A pair of slender hands picked it up and offered it to him. Danni was standing beside him holding the scarred and dirty armor, looking worried. “I’m fine,” he told her as he accepted the armor and began strapping it back into place. “Thank you.” “You’re still hurt,” she pointed out. “I’ve been worse,” Zeyn told her. “How about the hypercomm?” “I was able to slice through it,” she said. “Its codes were fairly standard, with a few encryption layers I recognized from your datapad. I also found out from the ship’s logs that she’s the only person that was sent here. She’s alone.” “You sliced into my datapad?” Zeyn asked, ignoring the good news she had just given him. “I was trying to find a way to contact your people when you were injured,” Danni explained. “I hoped the datapad would give me a way to do so. I didn’t even get through most of its security before you awoke.” Zeyn scowled. It was rather too late to be annoyed about it now, but he couldn’t completely stem the tide of irritation rising within him at her. “I see,” he answered laconically. “Good work on the hypercomm.” Limping over to the pilot’s chair, he sat down heavily and activated the terminal. First, he checked to make sure the transmissions weren’t being automatically forwarded—they were. Zeyn frowned, a frown which deepened once he saw that the navicomputer was also similarly monitored. That meant that any transmission he sent would be received by Ariada as well, and revealing that her assassin had failed might provoke a stronger response. Leaving the planet would have the same effect. “It’s no good,” he said. “Any transmissions routed through this hypercomm or hyperspace jumps are monitored by Ariada. I’d just be giving us away.” Without waiting for her reply, he stalked out of the Skipray Blastboat in frustration. What he really wanted to do was reach his ship and blast off this Vong-infested rock and obtain some decent food in a proper medcenter with a pretty nurse or two. Sadly, that didn’t seem to be in the cards since he couldn’t even reach the Yanibar Guard, much less get off Zonama Sekot. Zeyn was glaring out in the tampasi that surrounded them like an oppressive verdant curtain when he heard footsteps behind him. “Did you contact your people?” Niull Shac asked. A lie bubbled into his mind, but since he hadn’t informed Danni, there was no guarantee his story would check out if she was questioned. There was no reason to clumsily show distrust in such an obvious manner. If the Yuuzhan Vong was intent on betraying him, the information would make little difference since any help Zeyn could summon wouldn’t reach here in time anyway. “No,” Zeyn answered tersely. “The hypercomm and navicomputer are monitored—Ariada will see anything we transmit or track us anywhere we go.” “A downfall of your communications,” the Yuuzhan Vong said. “Villips cannot be monitored or intercepted.” Zeyn scowled again. “Not all of us have living telepathic creatures for communications,” he said. “And those have limitations too.” “Of course,” Niull Shac answered diplomatically. Zeyn decided to change subjects. “Why did you charge that droid?” he asked him. “It could have killed you.” “You had the better chance of killing it than I or Danni Quee did,” Niull Shac said. “Neither of us would have escaped it if it pursued us. The only choice was to attack and hope you could finish it with your Jeedai weapon.” “You would have died for a pair of alien strangers,” Zeyn replied in disbelief. Niull Shac bared his teeth slightly. “I would have gladly died in battle for a chance at victory rather than being hunted and killed like prey.” “You saved all of us,” Zeyn pointed out. “More importantly, we defeated our foe. That makes it a good tactic,” the Yuuzhan Vong told him. “That we did it with minimal loss makes it a viable one as well.” The Yuuzhan Vong faced him. “Would not your people say the same thing? Do you not accept losses as part of war?” “Not willingly,” Zeyn answered slowly. “We treasure every life as valuable, the innocent more so.” The Yuuzhan Vong stared at him for a moment as if trying to understand the alien concept. “I have heard of that belief among the Jeedai; I confess I do not understand it,” he said. “Wouldn’t expect you to,” Zeyn said. “I can overlook that difference,” Niull Shac told him. “Can you?” “If this is about your offer of help . . .” Zeyn started. Niull Shac held up a clawed hand. “Zeyn, you will have to trust me if you wish to leave Zonama Sekot. Your ship is contaminated and you cannot contact your friends,” he said. “Barring the arrival of your people, you are stranded here—and your people may well be stranded on their own world.” Zeyn contemplated telling the Yuuzhan Vong to shove his amphistaff somewhere it didn’t belong, but he was running out of options. He had banked much on being able to contact Yanibar, and that had fallen through. At this point, he had nothing to lose by hearing what Niull Shac had to say. “I’m listening,” Zeyn said. “This ship can still fly, but it cannot communicate or jump to lightspeed on its own without giving away its presence, yes?” “Right.” “What if another ship took it into hyperspace?” Niull Shac asked him. “What if another ship carried it?” “Then it wouldn’t be monitored,” Zeyn said. “The navicomputer wouldn’t even have to be on.” Niull Shac nodded slowly. “And as for your people . . . dovin basals can destroy, but they have other uses.” “You’re not serious,” Zeyn said in disbelief. “I am,” Niull Shac told him. “Our shapers could use dovin basals to help lift your people off the ground.” “And you would do this because . . . ?” Zeyn asked him. “I fail to see why you’d want to do that.” “I fail to see why you would have come out here to protect someone you have never met on a world populated with beings you hate when you could have let us die,” the Yuuzhan Vong answered. “You and your people stood to gain nothing from sending you out here. We could be dead right now, this world destroyed.” Zeyn nodded. “We treasure all life, the innocent more so,” he said. “Nobody else was coming to defend this place, so I was sent.” “As I said, it is a foreign concept to me,” Niull Shac said. “But a debt has been incurred—and among our people, such debts are honored. The lives of your people for the lives of mine.” The Yuuzhan Vong gestured in an enigmatic staccato manner in front of Zeyn’s face. “I pledge us-hrok to you, Zeyn of the Jeedai,” he said. “In Basic, a rough translation is a debt. As I understand it, nobody is coming to aid your people in leaving their world—but we will.” Zeyn was taken aback, surprised by the Yuuzhan Vong’s candor and frankness. While part of him suspected the Yuuzhan Vong of treachery, his understanding of Yuuzhan Vong body language betrayed no skepticism on the part of Niull Shac. “That’s not an easy offer for me to accept,” he said slowly. “You understand why.” Niull Shac nodded sagely. “Of course,” he said. “But I needed to make it—for honor’s sake.” “Thank you,” Zeyn replied. “I’ll think about it. We should head back to the village—it’ll be dark soon, and even if I agree, I’ll need to collect the rest of my gear from there first.” The warrior nodded and stalked off; leaving him to contemplate the longest and strangest conversation he’d ever had with a Yuuzhan Vong. Yanibar Tavin walked into the front office of Sarth and Cassi’s house, quietly taking in everything. The room was otherwise empty, and most of the furnishings were boxed up. A lone desk sat along the wall, while on the other side, across from a window that the bright afternoon sun shone through, several easels rested, draped with cloth. Curiosity got the better of the young man and he walked over to them, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face. Carefully, he peeled back the canvas covering over the first easel to reveal a painting of a breathtaking panorama. Snow-tipped mountains crested magnificently in the background, while fields of lush green grass dominated the landscape. Splotches of color showed flowers while the darker jade of trees dotted the horizon. A magnificent setting sun illuminated patchy clouds in hues of magenta and ochre, shining benevolently across the alpine landscape. Tavin stood for a moment, admiring its beauty, and then went on to the next piece. It was another mountainous landscape, a ledge that jutted out from a sheer cliff overlooking a misty canyon. Eight moss-covered pillars were arrayed in a circle around a perfectly tranquil pool of water, which was bordered by a single tree with silver-green leaves. The scene bespoke serenity such as he had never seen even in the loneliest wastes of Yanibar—which certainly lacked the natural beauty he was seeing in the paintings. There was one more painting and as Tavin removed the canvas, he took in a deep breath. It was a view of a planet mottled in greens and azure blues from space, with wisps of white cloud overlaying its surface. An ancient toroidal space station was visible amidst a dense asteroid belt that surrounded the planet. Calling it a ring or belt didn’t do them justice, though, for the rocks surrounded the planet from every angle and the solar wind impacting the magnetic field of the planet caused a shimmering iridescent aurora to dance over the poles of the world in the painting. Tavin felt a stirring in his heart at the incredible sight. He had never been in space before, and seeing that perspective was both strange and incredible to him. He stared enrapt for several seconds, taking in every detail. “Do you like them?” a voice asked. He turned suddenly, startled, and immediately felt embarrassed, as if he had been caught snooping. His great-aunt was standing there, but there was no condemnation in her face, so he was able to relax. “They’re beautiful,” he said. “Did you paint them?” “Force, no,” Cassi replied with a smile. “I described them, but a Jal Shey named Trillvillai painted them. He did an excellent job.” “I can see that,” Tavin answered, admiring the painting once more. “What world are these of? Surely this isn’t Yanibar.” “No,” Cassi admitted. “This is Atlaradis.” “You’ve been there,” Tavin realized. “Myself and your grandmother, nearly ten years ago,” Cassi affirmed. “And you didn’t stay? I mean, this place is gorgeous.” Cassi’s eyes twinkled. “It’s magnificent all right, but we had to come back to tell people about it.” “And this is where your people are going.” “That’s right,” Cassi said. “As long as we can leave Yanibar safely.” “I can see why my mother was so confused about why our community chose Naos over this,” Tavin said. “And how do you feel about all of this?” Cassi asked him. He frowned. “I’ve always been sort of contrary,” he answered. “I don’t generally go along with the crowd for the sake of it. Drives my brother and dad crazy sometimes. But if this is what we’re passing on for Naos . . . we’re making a mistake.” “Believe it or not, the paintings didn’t sway the leaders of that community,” Cassi told him. “That’s absurd,” Tavin said. “Look at them.” “And look at what you have seen in the refuge,” Cassi pointed out. “Yet we offered a life inside to the Outsiders at any time, if they would promise to abide by our laws. Some joined us. Many refused.” “I don’t understand,” Tavin answered. “Now that I’ve been in here, there’s no logical reason to live outside.” “Pride,” Cassi said. “And stubbornness. Some people prize familiarity and despise change so much. Some people can’t handle the idea of a free gift. They prize being able to earn what they have so much that they miss out on the potential they could have by accepting a free gift.” “And this planet is just waiting for your people to settle on it?” Tavin asked. “That’s right,” Cassi said. “Seems hard to believe, doesn’t it?” “It certainly does,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me looking at these.” “Not at all,” Cassi told him warmly. “I look at them myself from time to time. Feel free to look at them any time you want.” “Thank you,” he said. “They’re giving me a lot to think about.” “You do a lot of that, thinking,” Cassi answered. “Anything you want to share?” “Not really. Nothing much to say for now,” Tavin replied with a shrug. “All right,” Cassi said, checking her chrono. “I should go. Sarth will need his medicine soon, and he won’t take them unless I watch him.” Tavin nodded and she left. However, he lingered, staring at the paintings for some time, transfixed by the scenes portrayed in front of him.
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