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| - “Prepare for hyperspace,” Zeyn announced. Danni nodded from the seat across from him in the bridge. Behind and above them, a bulbous organic Yuuzhan Vong craft loomed over their ship, an antiquated XS-800 light freighter that Zeyn had traded in their absconded Skipray Blastboat for en route from Zonama Sekot. It was a roomier ship, albeit less well-armed and not as swift, but it also had one other advantage: its comm systems and hyperdrive were not transmitting information to Ariada. In appearance, the ship resembled the more famous CR90 corvette compressed down to a mere 30 meters length. The ship itself was not that impressive, but it had been cheap enough and Zeyn had confirmed it was reliable enough for their purposes. The long trip from Zonama Sekot back to Yanibar had allowed Zeyn to rest and recover from his wounds. The prolonged voyage had also afforded ample opportunities for him to talk with Danni over a plethora of subjects—their families, their interests, places and people on Yanibar, and their pasts. Now, though, as they made their final approach, Zeyn cleared his mind. Turning to Danni, he gave her one last instruction before they jumped to hyperspace. “Call up Niull Shac, remind him to wait for us here,” he said. “The Yanibar Guard will have a hard enough time accepting a cold approach from a non-secure ship, but if I show up unannounced with a Vong ship in tow, they’ll blast us first and ask questions later.” Danni complied, manipulating the organic villip that had been affixed near the other communications gear. “Niull Shac, stand by,” she told him. “We’re going ahead to the rendezvous point so Zeyn can convince his people to let you in.” The organic representation of Niull Shac’s head that appeared in the villip scowled, adding to the warrior’s already-foreboding visage. “This is another complication—just like you swapping ships was not in the original plan,” the Yuuzhan Vong warrior pointed out. Zeyn rose from his chair, moving to face the villip so he could explain. “And just like swapping the ship, this is necessary,” he said. “There’s a very good reason for me to not bring a Yuuzhan Vong ship straight to Yanibar while I’m travelling unofficially, and it involves avoiding a very quick death by turbolaser.” Niull Shac grimaced. “A fate which could still happen if you betray us, or even fail to convince your comrades,” he remarked. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Zeyn remarked acidly. “Like I’ve trusted you up until now.” “A refreshing concept between our two peoples,” Niull Shac said with a sudden twisted smile. “One I look forward to exploring further. Carry on.” The villip reverted, causing the Yuuzhan Vong’s visage to disappear. “I swear he does that to just get on my nerves,” Zeyn muttered, moving back to his chair and running a final check on the navicomputer. Finding nothing else wrong, he did one more sensor sweep. He would have preferred to check for Yuuzhan Vong creatures attached to his ship in case of a double-cross, but their meager freighter lacked the specialized equipment needed to perform such a trace. He would have to act on faith, a thought which left a distinctly sour taste. However, the concept wasn’t as foreign to him as it had been when he had first arrived on Zonama Sekot what seemed like hundreds of years ago. “Jumping to hyperspace,” he announced, pulling the lever. It was a short jump, only a few minutes, and one that took them to a pocket of deep space that the Yanibar Guard used as a rendezvous point. It was isolated, with the nearest star dozens of light years away, with no reason for anyone ever to journey here. Zeyn knew that there would be little here other than a hidden sensor station—but the eyes of Yanibar would see them. As soon as they reverted, he began broadcasting a short-range transmission across all frequencies. “This is Elite Zeyn Kraen, authentication code Five-Oh-One-Senth-Trill. Situation code is Wild Return Over Unsafe.” He waited for a response, but there was no immediate answer. Dutifully, he continued broadcasting the same message every thirty seconds for several minutes. Finally, Danni grew curious after hearing the same thing repeated verbatim a dozen times. “What does all that mean anyway?” she asked. Zeyn gave her a wry smile. “Military secrets,” he said. “Zeyn,” she persisted. Zeyn repeated his message one more time, then finally relented and gave her a basic explanation. “An authentication code tells them who I am. A situation code tells them under what circumstance I got here.” “So what is a Wild Return Over Unsafe?” Danni asked him. Zeyn frowned. “That is a military secret,” he said. “Can’t say.” Danni started to ask another question, but was forestalled by the sudden flicker of psuedomotion as two ships dropped out of hyperspace in close proximity. Zeyn recognized them as Remembrance-class cruisers, formidable midsize warships. “Receiving transmission,” Danni commented. “Just audio.” “Let’s hear it,” Zeyn said. “Elite Kraen,” a distinctively male voice addressed him. “Is this channel secure?” “Unlikely,” Zeyn answered. “But the people who might be listening in are potential allies. I need to speak with the Council directly.” “Excuse me? That is a violation of—,” “Security protocol, I know,” Zeyn interrupted. “This could have implications for the greater wellbeing for all of our people. I need to speak with somebody in authority, as quickly as possible.” “This is most irregular,” the voice continued. Zeyn sighed. He already knew the Yanibar Guard’s response protocol to such a situation. He also already knew that Elite Guardians had sufficient rank and privilege to bypass such measures if they claimed the situation was appropriately dire. Such as now. The captain of those ships was just trying to stonewall him and avoid showing deference in a potentially dangerous situation to avoid risking the refuge. “Captain,” Zeyn cut him off again. “You and I already both know that if I’m who I claim to be and if no clear threats are detected, that I have a right to a relayed priority signal. Quit stalling and let me come aboard.” “Of course,” the voice answered in a sullen tone. Several minutes later, Zeyn and Danni had debarked their XS-800 in the forward hangar of one of the cruisers in an isolated ward where it was being checked over by technicians for listening devices or other tracers. A guard of armored marines met them at the ramp and ushered them to a secure conference room near the hangar. Danni took in the sights quietly, and while Zeyn assured her that she would have no trouble, he had advised her to keep silent thus far. Once the conference room had sealed behind them, Zeyn activated the holocomm controls. Soon, an eighth-size hologram shimmered into place atop the rectangular table that dominated the room, but instead of one of the Council members he was familiar with, it was his Aunt Cassi. “Hello, Zeyn,” she told him. “You seem to have got yourself into a situation.” “Yes, ma’am,” he answered slowly. “But I need to speak to the Council.” She gave him an amused smile that quickly turned sad. “I am on the Council now, Zeyn,” she replied. “Do you need me to verify my credentials?” Zeyn flushed red. His aunt had always been very fond of him and had helped raise him after his father had died. He hadn’t meant to imply that she wouldn’t be qualified to sit on the Council. “No,” he answered quickly. “I just didn’t know, I’ve been out of contact for a while.” “Yes,” Cassi’s holo said, glancing down as if looking at something else. “Your situation code says . . .” She looked up. “Why don’t you just explain it to me?” she said. “I’m still learning what all these definitions mean, and it’s quite mystifying to somebody who hasn’t been in the Yanibar Guard for years.” Out of the corner of his eye, Zeyn saw Danni suppressing a smirk and scowled. Cassi saw his eyes track over toward her and turned to see who else was in the room. “I didn’t realize you had company,” she said. “Who’s this?” “Danni Quee,” Zeyn informed her stiffly. “She’s an asset that I rescued from Zonama Sekot after Ariada targeted her.” “And you’re reluctant to reveal the situation code in the presence of an offworlder civilian,” Cassi surmised. “Something like that,” Zeyn muttered. “But you trusted her enough to bring her to a secret rendezvous point and onboard one of our ships?” Cassi questioned him. Zeyn flushed red again. His aunt was doing a good job of making him look ridiculous, and this was not the time or place for it. “Let’s skip the situation code,” he said hurriedly. “Aunt Cassi, Danni had an idea on Zonama Sekot that might help our people with the evacuation. It’s pretty . . . hard to accept as a concept, but I think it might work.” “Should I have Sarth listen in?” Cassi asked. “He’s in the next room.” “Uh, sure,” Zeyn replied. A minute later, a hologram of Sarth appeared alongside Cassi’s. “Uncle Sarth, Aunt Cassi, this is Danni Quee,” Zeyn told them. “Danni, this is Sarth and Cassi Kraen. She’s come to help us after I stopped Ariada’s attempts on her life. I, uh, told her about our predicament and she has a possible solution.” “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sarth spoke up to the scientist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Quee. Your reputation precedes you.” “Please, call me Danni,” she said. “Of course,” Sarth answered. “Did you know that we’re actually related? My mother’s maiden name was Quee—and from what I was able to look up, she was also your great-great aunt.” “Really?” Danni asked. “It’s true,” Sarth said. “And perhaps also a topic better reserved for later,” Cassi interjected diplomatically, seeing Zeyn’s impatience. “Certainly, my apologies,” Sarth said. “Cassi told me that you and Danni have a possible means to aid in the evacuation.” “That’s right,” Zeyn answered, “but it’s going to sound strange.” “At this point, we could use any help we can get,” Sarth told him. Zeyn’s hand fidgeted nervously as he wondered how to actually phrase this now that he was standing in front of his aunt and uncle. Danni sensed his discomfort and bravely filled in for him. “We believe that a group of Yuuzhan Vong could assist in the evacuation effort,” Danni said. “A group of what?” Sarth asked in utter astonishment. “You realize those are the people who caused this problem in the first place.” “I know,” Danni answered evenly. “Zeyn told me.” “So why should we trust or expect help from them?” Sarth inquired suspiciously. “Mr. Kraen, please understand,” Danni said. “If anyone has cause to resent the Yuuzhan Vong, it’s me. I was the only survivor of their attack on Belkadan, the first world they invaded. I was the first person to experience the horrors of Yuuzhan Vong captivity. I spent the next five years of my life running and fighting and inventing ways to stop them. I saw what they did to countless worlds and I lost many good friends along the way. To this day, I don’t know what became of my family.” “So why present us with this idea?” Cassi asked neutrally. “Because at the war’s end, I found myself living on the same planet with them,” Danni told them. “And that’s where I’ve been for the last eight years. They haven’t attacked me. They haven’t tried to shape me. What I’m saying is that at some point, I learned to see them beyond just through the prism of an enemy. They are different from us, yes, but they are not innately destined to hate us. Hatred and cruelty are just as much acquired traits among them as they are among humans. The group that is willing to assist you hopes to put some of the past behind both our peoples.” Sarth and Cassi were silent for a moment. “What are they offering?” “Are you familiar with dovin basals?” Danni asked. “Yes,” Sarth answered. “Unfortunately.” “Zeyn tells me that your evacuation ships are having a hard time lifting off,” Danni said. “The Yuuzhan Vong have offered to provide some of their dovin basals to help your ships reach atmosphere. They have also offered to correct Yorbinal’s orbit to stabilize it.” Sarth and Cassi exchanged glances, considering the matter. “We will have to consult the Council,” Cassi said. “This is not a decision we can make unilaterally.” “Danni, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like a word with Zeyn.” She took the hint and turned to leave. “Just wait outside,” Zeyn murmured to her. “I’ll be right out.” Danni nodded and left and Zeyn watched her go. Once the door had sealed behind her, he returned his attention to his aunt and uncle. “The Yuuzhan Vong are near, aren’t they?” Sarth asked. “Yes,” Zeyn admitted. “One ship, no larger than a medium cruiser. About five parsecs from here.” “Does this offer make any sense to you, Zeyn?” Sarth inquired. “The Yuuzhan Vong did save my life on Zonama Sekot,” Zeyn admitted. “Twice.” “So you believe them?” Cassi asked. He hesitated, then nodded. “I would not have made it this far without their help,” he said. “I wasn’t happy about the idea—or that Danni even told them in the first place—but the more I think about it, the more I think this might be our best chance at a successful evacuation, unless you’ve already figured out those problems.” “Unfortunately, no,” Sarth replied. “The task is quite . . . daunting.” “I understand it’s a lot to consider,” Zeyn told them. “Believe me, I already went through the same concerns and thoughts that you two are right now.” “Did you contemplate that your judgment might be clouded?” Sarth asked. “By what?” Zeyn answered. “Gratitude that they saved me? I understand your point, but I had to trust them, or else I would still be stranded on Zonama Sekot. They proved themselves.” “Fair enough,” Sarth replied, but Cassi wasn’t quite so sure. “And Danni Quee’s influence?” she asked. “It seems she instigated all this. Did she sway you?” Zeyn sighed. “To an extent,” he admitted. “She pointed out that I was being stubborn and narrow-minded regarding the Yuuzhan Vong. She did encourage me to consider their offer.” “Do you believe her judgment sound?” Sarth inquired. “She was one of the New Republic’s leading experts on the Yuuzhan Vong,” Zeyn pointed out. “I would tend to trust her judgment on the Yuuzhan Vong over most.” “And you find her attractive,” Cassi observed. “Does she reciprocate?” “Yes, and yes,” Zeyn confessed. “How serious is this involvement with her?” Sarth asked. “I offered to let her come with us to Atlaradis if she wished.” Sarth and Cassi were silent again, and Zeyn felt himself growing flustered. “Look, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You think my judgment has been compromised since the mission to Zonama Sekot. I understand—it sounds crazy to me, too. I never thought I’d be bringing a group of Yuuzhan Vong to Yanibar willingly—and certainly not for productive means.” He sighed. “All I’m asking is that you consider it. I can provide the means for you to meet with the Yuuzhan Vong leader if you want, or speak with him remotely. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think they could help,” Zeyn answered. Sarth frowned. “Zeyn, from what I know of Yanibar Guard regulations, you’ve done a number of things that are not exactly approved,” he said. “Under ordinary circumstances, we would simply let your superiors deal with you.” “I accept that,” Zeyn said. “I’ll accept whatever punishment Master Kel’nerh or Master Kraen has for me.” “That won’t be possible,” Cassi informed him sadly. “Morgedh is dead. And Selu and Milya are still hunting for Ariada. Qedai left to join the search about a week ago.” “Dead?” Zeyn asked in surprise. “On Bespin. It was an ambush,” Sarth told him. “Ariada also has Shara, Ryion, and Jaina Solo.” Zeyn’s eyes widened in shock and horror. “I head out to the Unknown Regions for a few weeks and the galaxy decides to go completely sideways?” “As I said, these are no ordinary circumstances,” Sarth said. “The reason why your aunt is head of the council is that one of Ariada’s assassins snuck onto Yanibar and murdered the previous members.” Zeyn sat back, struck speechless by the overwhelming news he was hearing. “I had no idea,” he mumbled. “Now you know the gravity of the situation,” Sarth told him. “And why we have every right to be concerned.” “I understand,” Zeyn said, tight-lipped. “All I ask is that you give the offer due consideration. The Yuuzhan Vong are taking a huge risk by coming here—there was always the possibility that the Yanibar Guard would preemptively strike them, or that we would be ambushed en route. They are willing to do this to forge peace.” “We will consider it,” Cassi promised. “We need to gather some more information and determine how best to present this to the full Council, but we will give this matter our full consideration.” “Thank you,” Zeyn said with relief, bowing slightly out of respect. “It’s good to have you home, Zeyn,” Cassi told him. “I suspect the Yanibar Guard will want to debrief you fully, but from what I can tell, you accomplished your mission.” “It wasn’t easy, but I did. Zonama Sekot and Danni Quee both survived,” Zeyn answered, realizing the conversation was nearing its end. “One more thing, Zeyn,” Sarth added. “Yes?” “From what I can tell of her, you made a good find,” Sarth said. “Treasure her—she seems worth it.” A smile creased Zeyn’s face. “I will.” Daara’sherum Selu leaned over the large conference table, gazing at the holoprojection hovering in it. He was deep inside the Daara’sherum, in the largest planning room available. The translucent light depicted the detailed layout of a ship. It was a design unfamiliar to Selu, an oblong shape roughly cylindrical with an extension jutting out from its underside near the fore of the ship. Twin engine pods at the stern provided propulsion, while crystalline spikes protruded from its sides and weaponry blisters studded the exteriors. The ship was shown without its skin, revealing the deck plan to the best of their knowledge. This was the ship Ariada had created and had been using to terrorize the galaxy. He shuddered as he considered its name: the Knightfall. The fact that Ariada had the audacity to attack the Jedi Order and Galactic Alliance didn’t surprise him. That she’d been able to do so to this degree of success—that was impressive. Now, though, they would finally strike back. Ryion and Jaina had provided the means to find her, and Novera had supplied the information necessary to understand the layout of her lethal cruiser. Red vectors traced their way through the holographic ship, depicting the paths the boarding teams would follow. The plan depended on surprise and speed—traditional allies of the Jedi against most opponents. Against someone as cunning as Ariada, Selu was less confident. He looked around him at the remainder of the occupants of the planning room. It was a small group, and they were studying the hologram as intently as he was. “Well,” Kyle Katarn’s voice cut through the silence. “I think that about does it. It’s not going to get much better than that.” “Recap the plan for us, please,” Selu asked Milya, who was standing off in the corner. She nodded curtly. “The operation will be a multi-pronged boarding action. Master Kraen will facilitate a covert approach to the Knightfall via the Hawk-bat. Upon attachment, we will detonate an ion charge to temporarily overload its systems and breach, at which point we will split up. Team One consists of Jedi Katarn and Jedi Tainer, as well as four YVH droids graciously supplied by Tendrando Arms. Their job is to reach the sanctum where Ariada controls the bombs from. En route, they will move through the bridge and disable the ship’s command crew.” She traced their path from the entry point through the ship towards its stern compartments. Kyle and Tyria, who were off to the side murmuring to each other, both nodded in acknowledgment. “Team Two will consist of two commando squads from the Daara’sherum. Their objective is the primary engine room. Reach the engine room and deactivate the hyperdrive by whatever means necessary. The exact location of the hyperdrive is unknown; our source is not an engineer, but we guess it’s in this sector.” The two commando squad leaders gave fractional nods indicating they understood their role. “Lastly, Team Three is Master Kraen and myself, along with Qedai. We’re heading for the probable location that the prisoners are being held, and we’re going to free them.” Milya swept her gaze around the room one last time, then turned her attention to the fleet officer off to the side. “Meanwhile, Admiral Arystek will set a course for Tython. She will deploy troops to investigate and ultimately destroy anything we find in Ariada’s laboratory there.” The aged officer gave her own acknowledgment of her orders. “Are there any questions?” Milya asked. There weren’t any after several seconds—and for that Milya was grateful. They had spent the last six hours hashing out the plan in a grueling planning session. “All right then,” Milya said. “We jump to hyperspace in an hour, and there will be simulations available en route once our techs finish them up.” “A word before you dismiss them,” Selu cut in. He waited until he had all of their full attention. “Ariada Cerulaen represents the greatest threat to the galaxy ever to come from Yanibar,” he said. “She has forsaken the light side to sow chaos and terror throughout the galaxy, and for that, she must be stopped. Each of you will have a vital role to play in the imminent confrontation, and I can only ask that you remind yourself why you are risking your life—so that others might live. That is why we all do what we do, why we knowingly endanger ourselves in combat. We do this so that others might live free from threats that they cannot and should not have to face. May the Force be with us all.” “Dismissed,” Milya added. The others filed out of the room, leaving Selu and Milya alone with the hologram. Milya’s brow furrowed as she stared at it with a troubled expression. “You know, you don’t have to come on this one,” Selu told her gently. “Nobody will think less of you if you decide to go after the Tython base.” Milya’s scowl increased. “I’m coming,” she said flatly. “Out of all of us, I know Ariada the best. I’m also not about to let her get away from what she’s done.” “I know,” Selu answered placatingly. “I also don’t want you to exercise any vendettas or to do something reckless in your pursuit of justice.” Milya turned to regard her husband of fifty years. “You’re worried about me doing something reckless?” she asked him with a wry smirk. “Isn’t that your job?” “That incident on Yanibar twenty-four years ago was fairly reckless,” he reminded her. “My daughter was in danger,” she said stiffly. “That was different.” “And now your son is in danger,” Selu pointed out. “Not that different.” Milya thought about it a minute, then conceded the point. “Fine,” she said sourly. “Not that different.” “What’s wrong?” Selu asked her. “You’ve been on edge. More than you should be.” “I’m just worried about what might happen,” Milya said. “The Jedi claim that they don’t know fear, but I do.” The momentary lapse in her normally steely emotional armor showed in her face, revealing a vulnerability and worry that she only displayed sparingly, and to those she trusted implicitly. Selu put his arm around her warmly. “We’re going to take care of this, and then we’re going to go home and get our people to Atlaradis,” he assured her. “This ends now.” “It should have ended earlier,” Milya said bitterly. “We’ve already sacrificed too much . . . Morgedh . . . the Council . . . possibly Shara . . . and who knows if we’ll all walk away from this one?” “And it will be worth it when we succeed,” Selu told her. “Evil must be stopped, and this particular evil is ours to stop.” Milya brushed an errant strand of hair that had escaped the pulled-back chignon, smoothing it back into place. She bit her lower lip, both rare signs of nervousness. “I just wish—that I had seen it coming,” Milya said. “I feel like I should have seen her fall coming before it happened.” “And I’m sure Master Yoda regretted that his foresight didn’t show him Palpatine’s true nature,” Selu countered. “That’s not your fault, and neither was your decision to save those Wroonians on R’alla—and by extension, Ariada. She made the choices that led her to where she is today—not you.” “I know,” Milya admitted. “I just wish I could fully convince myself.” “You will,” Selu promised. “Until then, I’m here for you.” She shifted, swiveling towards him and inclining her head forward. Selu took the cue and rested his forehead against hers, an intimate position that she understood meant unity and trust and security. “Always and forever?” she asked. “Always and forever,” Selu promised. She nodded, and for now, that was enough. When they finally separated, Milya frowned, recalling one last detail. “There’s one more thing,” she said. “There always is,” Selu answered with a wry smile of his own, not flustered at all by her revelation. “Novera asked me to join the strike force,” Milya told him. Selu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And you told her no, of course?” he answered. “I told her I’d ask you,” she said. “Then the answer is no,” Selu told her flatly. “That was simple.” However, something in her posture told him that it wasn’t that simple. “You don’t seriously think she should accompany us, do you?” Selu asked darkly. “It’s not the worst idea,” Milya admitted. “Moreover, she feels she needs to do this to atone for her crimes.” “Feelings aside, she is a massive security risk,” Selu pointed out. “Not to mention, she was until very recently one of Ariada’s most trusted operatives. If she betrays our position, the whole operation goes sideways. The answer is no.” Milya sighed. “You’re right,” she said. “Every logical bone in my body told me the same thing. But if I was her, I’d ask for the same chance. I don’t think she’ll betray us.” “Are you willing to stake Ryion’s life on that?” Selu asked. “I already have,” Milya answered him. “It’s her information that gave us the deck plan for the ship and allowed us to set up a plan to jam Ariada’s communications. If she was out to betray us, that’s the easiest way—she doesn’t even have to escape to make it happen.” “But this could be an escape plan—and she could have done that,” Selu pointed out. “In which case, all the better to have her near to sense any possible hints of a betrayal,” Milya said. “The old saying goes . . .” “Keep your friends close, your enemies closer,” Selu finished. “We’ll have to take precautions.” “I understand,” Milya said. “In the unlikely event you approve of this idea, I’d recommend sedating her until after we dock. And I wasn’t about to offer her a weapon.” “Let’s keep going back to the part where this is unlikely,” Selu returned. However, deep inside, he knew that as much as his initial reaction was to immediately reject this plan, that Milya was making too much sense for him to just dismiss it outright. “Selu, I think this is the best thing. For everyone,” Milya told him sincerely. He scowled again. “I’ll consider it,” he said. “First, I want to know every possible scenario that could go wrong. If we can plan around the worst parts, then . . . we’ll see.” “It’s a start,” Milya replied agreeably. “I can work with that.” “Let’s just hope there’s a good finish too,” Selu answered grimly.
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