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| - Peering out from the side hatch of the Javelin shuttle, Bryndar could almost reach and touch leafy fronds as the craft skimmed over a towering ridge and entered a narrow canyon. The rocky cliffs on either side were inundated with foliage. Bryndar carefully scanned the valley floor, looking for the wreck of a starfighter that just might contain his wife. “Any sign of an emergency beacon?” he asked. “None so far,” the shuttle answered. Bryndar swore under his breath as the shuttle wove through the jagged contours of the misty canyon. The shuttle dipped, dropping another hundred meters as it descended and slowed. Bryndar looked forward and saw that the shuttle was heading straight for a cliff face. He started to shout an alarm when it banked sharply, taking the turn so acutely that its belly nearly grazed the cliff face with a roll of almost ninety degrees. The commando swore again under his breath, this time at flyboy antics. “The wreck is down there about half a klick. Clear for drop,” the shuttle pilot advised Bryndar. “Watch out for Vong, there’s probably plenty of them prowling around.” “Copy,” Bryndar replied, staring down into the thickets and boulder fields that lined the steep slopes of the ridge and the narrow valley floor. There was a bog down there also, judging by the mists and pools of water. The harsh terrain prevented the shuttle from landing and the narrow canyon walls meant that they couldn’t simply use their fibra-ropes to rappel down from a safe height. Instead, Bryndar threw himself out of the door, plunging down the kilometer-odd drop. As he fell, he activated the repulsorpack he was wearing, slowing his fall to a reasonable speed. The other six remaining commandos of Cresh Squad plus one from Dorn Squad—Cresh Five had been severely injured while protecting the convoy and Dorn Five had volunteered to substitute—followed him in tight formation. Bryndar was elated they had all volunteered to help him on this mission, even though its outcome might only be the discovery of a corpse. They were like family to him and he was reassured because they had his back. The eight armored soldiers landed at the edge of a marsh, surrounded by three-meter tall bulrushes and knee-deep in water. They quickly shucked their repulsorpacks and concealed them, staying alert for signs of Yuuzhan Vong activity. Once Bryndar was satisfied that all quadrants were clear, he found a mud bank. “Grab some camouflage,” he said. Slathering his armor with mud, he plastered loose rushes onto it as well. The rest of the commandos followed suit, then carefully erased traces of their disturbance as Bryndar signaled them forward. They moved deeper into the water until it was waist-deep. Enhancing the power of the repulsorlifts in their battlesuits allowed them to make headway in the stagnant water. Insects buzzed around them as they advanced in a staggered column, weapons tracking in all directions for any sign of the Yuuzhan Vong. Within ten minutes, Bryndar caught sight of the downed Sabre II starfighter. It had plowed into a gully, coming to rest on a mud bank at the end of a trail of debris, half-turned on its side. The fact that the vehicle seemed to have made a semi-controlled belly landing seemed hopeful, but Bryndar knew better than to succumb to optimism. The cockpit was turned away from his commandos so he couldn’t see it. He gave a hand signal and the squad fanned out to approach the starfighter in a wave rather than a line. They continued the same slow, steady advance, weapons tracking as they slogged through the water and mud, deadly serious and as silent as possible. Cresh Seven held up one hand and the rest of the squad froze instantly. The squad sniper held up a finger, then tapped his helmet twice, signaling that he had detected one contact using thermal vision. Bryndar tapped his chest strobe twice, referring to the infrared beacons that Yanibar Guard personnel used to avoid friendly fire. The signal communicated a query: was the contact wearing a strobe. Cresh Seven made a horizontal gesture with his hand, indicating a no. While the Yanibar Guard didn’t think the Yuuzhan Vong could eavesdrop on comlink communications, even detection of the transmission bursts could be enough to clue them in, so the commandos used hand signals. “Cresh Lead, this is Gurrcat One,” the shuttle pilot told him. “We are outbound but thought you might want to know that thermals picked up lots of activity heading your way, at least a hundred.” Bryndar grimaced, but made no reply. Instead, he beckoned his squad forward. If the lone contact was Yuuzhan Vong, they needed to deal with it and investigate the downed starfighter before the others arrived. The commandos closed in, vigilant for any sign of the contact. There was a relatively open area of the swamp with scarcely any rushes for cover. Bryndar crouched down so that everything from the shoulders down was submerged, knowing that the mists of the swamp were sparse concealment at best. After doing one last check, he and his commandos crossed through the small pond, heading for the embankment and the starfighter wreck on the other side. Just as he was about five meters from the starfighter, a blaster bolt tore through the mists to hit him in the head. The report was impossibly loud, reverberating through the narrow cliff walls. A second bolt and then a third pierced the mists as well, but while the second also clipped him, he ducked under the third. Bryndar stumbled, surprised by the impact and even more surprised that he hadn’t detected the shooter before they fired. His personal shield lit up momentarily as it dissipated the energy. The fact that the weapon was a blaster was in and of itself reassuring and his squad had shown the presence of mind to not return fire. “Paladin Twelve, cease fire,” he ordered gruffly using his helmet’s audio projection system. “We’re friendly.” Thankfully, the blasterfire stopped. Bryndar and the commandos waded forward hurriedly to the starfighter, but no one was evident. He quickly noticed a trail through the mud and grass left by someone crawling away from the starfighter since there were no boot prints. He followed the trail to a clumped thicket. Prying away the branches, he was greeted by the snub-nosed barrel of an S-1D blaster pistol. “Easy there,” Bryndar said as he stared down the barrel. “You’re safe now.” He wiped away the mud so the person hiding inside the thicket could see the optical sensors on his helmet that resembled glowing red eyes. “Code word,” he heard his wife’s voice demand weakly from inside the thicket. The sound of her speaking was the sweetest thing Bryndar had heard in a week. Jasika was alive! A grin broke out across his face even though nobody could see it. “Hello, beautiful,” he told her. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t the code word,” Jasika replied as he widened the branches to reveal her curled up inside the thicket, arms and shoulders braced on top of a low-hanging branch to keep the blaster steady. “And my husband is going to have words with you about that after this.” Bryndar pulled off his helmet so she could see his face. “Well, I could do that, but it would be kind of awkward,” he told her with a roguish grin. Her face brightened visibly as she recognized him. “I was hoping you would come for me,” she said, but Bryndar noted the pained expression on her face, as well as the broken infrared strobe hanging around her neck. That at least explained why she hadn’t been using one earlier. “I’m here,” he reassured her. “What’s wrong?” “Legs,” she said. “I think they’re both broken.” Bryndar winced. “All right, let’s get you out of there, then Six will take a look,” he told her. As gently as he could, he lifted Jasika out of the thicket. She whimpered as her legs made contact with the branches. Bryndar beckoned Cresh Six, the medic, over and knelt by Jasika’s side. “I think that’s enough adventure for one day,” he told her. “We’re going to take you back to base.” She smiled up at him as the medic examined her legs. “Sounds wonderful,” Jasika said. “You’re one tough, lovable lady,” Bryndar remarked. “Crawling a dozen meters from your starfighter on broken legs after being shot down and then you blasted me.” Her eyes widened. “Are you okay?” she asked. Bryndar held up a hand to assuage her. “Shield got it,” he said with a wry smile. “You got me in the head twice. Good shooting.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Good teacher,” she answered, then she grew serious again. “I’m sorry, Bryndar. About everything. The Yanibar Guard. The fights. All of it.” “Me too,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later.” “Hey boss, I hate to interrupt your impromptu date, but was this supposed to be an invite-only event?” Cresh Three asked him. “What do you mean?” Bryndar asked. “Oh, about a hundred Vong warriors are heading this way to crash the party. Should I check their holodocs to see if they’re with the band?” the irrepressible Three inquired, his words making light of a very serious situation. “Stang,” Bryndar swore. He turned back to Jasika for a moment. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he told her. “We’re going to make it.” “With our lives, or our marriage?” she asked. “Both,” he answered firmly. Bryndar brought his helmet up to put it back on, but Jasika reached up to grab his arm, arresting the motion. He started to speak, but she leaned forward and kissed him, only for a second as she knew the urgency of the moment. “Go get ‘em,” she whispered. Bryndar nodded and he donned his helmet. Jasika caught just a glimpse of his face as it hardened and she knew what had happened. As much as Bryndar loved her, when he was working, he had to put her out of his mind. That hardening was his warfighter look, the deadly serious and incredibly demanding one that transformed him into almost a completely different person. “We need to move,” Bryndar told Cresh Six. “Carry her if you have to. We’ll screen your retreat.” The rest of the squad deployed mines around the crashed starfighter and then withdrew. Cresh Six slung Jasika over his shoulder and moved out second, with the temporary Cresh Five leading the way. Their departure was at first stealthy as they sought to create distance from the Yuuzhan Vong closing in on them. They were about four hundred meters from the wreck when the sound of muffled explosions reached them. A minute later, Cresh Seven gave a disheartening report. “They found our trail. They’re coming.” “Slow ‘em down,” Bryndar told the sniper. The man turned and fired twice with the distinctive whirr-chirp of his S-5X sniper rifle. “Got two, but that just made them angry,” he reported. “It’s a race then,” Bryndar said. “Let’s go.” Putting action to words, the commandos dashed forward, no longer carrying about stealth or concealment. Behind them they could hear the angry war cries of the Yuuzhan Vong as they chased them. Cresh Six moved Jasika to a cradling carry so that his shield would protect her. Thud bugs zoomed past them and the commandos shot them off as best as they could. Some of them slammed into shields, lighting them up. Bryndar stopped on a rock and swiveled around to cut loose with his S-2F blaster rifle. He strafed the rifle’s aiming point across the advancing warriors while holding down the trigger, then quickly leaped down. The rock exploded behind him as it caught a blast bug. The commandos sprinted forward. Occasionally, the third man in line would stop and fire behind them to slow down the Yuuzhan Vong advance, then take off running again, becoming the new last commando in the formation. This rotation allowed for some measure of cover fire as well as kept a relatively fresh shield in the back closer to the Yuuzhan Vong ordnance. Bryndar ducked as a razor bug skimmed over his head, bashing it with the butt of his blaster rifle as it zoomed over. The Yuuzhan Vong pursued them relentlessly and Bryndar realized that they were catching up. A flight of razor bugs zoomed into the midst of the commandos. Cresh Six threw himself to the ground, shielding Jasika’s unarmored body with his own as the bugs sparked off his shield. Jasika screamed, but none of the bugs got through to reach her. Bryndar winced, knowing that the impact of her legs on the ground would have been painful, but he approved of Cresh Six’s actions nonetheless. The tactic allowed the Yuuzhan Vong to gain more ground and Bryndar hurled a thermal detonator back at them. The resulting explosion punished their faster runners, but Bryndar knew they would not cease their pursuit. Soon the commandos were nearing the sharp bend in the canyon where the shuttle had taken the risky turn instead of flying over it. Bryndar recalled that the canyon on the other side was more open, with little cover. If they took the turn, they would be hunted down and killed. “We’re going up,” he called, running straight for the ridge and pulling out his piton launcher. The others followed suit, firing piton-bearing darts up at the sheer cliff face where the pitons sank in deeply to the rock. Cresh Six made sure to clip Jasika to himself before he fired his own. Activating the cable caused the darts to attempt to retract the line, hauling the commandos up the cliff face. Thud bugs smashed into the rock around them and several of the commandos swiveled around to lay down suppressing fire as they were hauled up by their fibra-ropes. Bryndar felt his shield light up as a thud bug smashed into his back, but the energy field held. The ascension caught the Yuuzhan Vong by surprise and soon eighty meters of vertical distance separated the commandos from their pursuers. They scrambled upward, climbing as best as they could, guided by their ETA helmet tactical AIs. In short order, Cresh Squad and their injured passenger were huddled on a rocky shelf sheltered by a small grove of trees. Thud bugs and razor bugs whizzed up after them, but the rocky lip afforded them a modicum of protection. Jasika was crying softly, her legs no doubt screaming in agony from bumping into the cliff wall during the trip upward. “Get her some water and a pick-me-up,” Bryndar ordered as he positioned himself prone and peered over the edge of the rock shelf. Sighting in, he opened fire, joining the other commandos except Cresh Six in blasting away at their pursuers. However, though they felled several Yuuzhan Vong warriors, a flurry of thrown living weapons followed, forcing the commandos to take cover. “They’re starting to scale the walls,” Cresh Seven reported. “Good on them,” Bryndar retorted, arming a concussion grenade and rolling it off the edge. The muffled explosion a few seconds later knocked several of the Yuuzhan Vong to the ground lifelessly. “Nice trick, but we don’t have enough dets to deal with all of them,” Cresh Two said. “We can’t just stay here.” “It’s a stalemate for now,” Bryndar reported. “They have eighty meters to climb, and we can pick some of them off from here.” “They’ll just get reinforced,” Cresh Two pointed out. “And once they do reach up here, it’s all hand-to-hand. We’ll lose. We need to keep going up.” “The Vong will just surround us and the top of the ridgeline is too rugged to traverse on anything but hands and knees,” Bryndar reminded him. He left unspoken the point that the commandos might have been able to manage it except for being burdened with an injured Jasika. “Leave me here and get out,” Jasika offered. “I’ll hold them off while you escape.” “We didn’t come all this way out here just to leave you again, ma’am,” Cresh Six told her. “He’s right,” Bryndar said firmly. “If you stay, I stay.” “And if he stays, we all stay,” Cresh Two added. Bryndar leaned over the edge of the shelf, his rifle aimed straight down, and scythed fire through the ranks of the Yuuzhan Vong swarming up the cliff face. A trio of thud bugs caught him, slamming him back roughly. His shield burst in a bevy of sparks. “Stang, good aim,” Bryndar commented. The commandos made piecemeal attempts to dissuade the climbers, hoping to avoid the incessant rain of projectiles that were thrown up at them. “It’s just a matter of time until they bring in the heavy weapons,” Cresh Two commented. “Cresh Lead, this is Home One. YGF reports enemy fliers inbound,” Bryndar heard the voice of a controller. “ETA five minutes.” “Ah, there they are,” Cresh Two remarked acidly. “You know, sometimes I hate it when you’re right,” Bryndar told him. “Home One, Cresh Lead. We’ve been cut off from the rendezvous point and need evac.” “Affirmative, Cresh Lead,” the controller said. “Evac untenable at your current position. Can you make it over the ridge?” Bryndar looked up at the hundreds of meters of sheer canyon face looming over them. “Not a chance, Home One,” he said. “Not before those fliers get here.” The voice on the other end went silent, no doubt unsure of what to say. “We’ve got more problems,” Cresh Seven reported. “Enemy warbeast, big one, moving down the canyon.” Bryndar peeked over the edge, zooming in with his optical set to see a gargantuan four-legged war beast bristling with defensive dovin basals and plasma cannons slowly stomping them. “Kriff,” he spat. “Wow, boss, I wasn’t aware we ordered the deluxe package,” Cresh Three quipped. “Want me to take delivery for you?” Bryndar frowned even as he rolled another detonator over the side. Without an injured, unarmored person, they could probably have escaped, but with Jasika in tow, there was no chance. Bryndar looked off at maximum zoom and saw the dim silhouettes of approaching aerial vehicles. They were cut off and if the Yuuzhan Vong fliers didn’t get them, the approaching war beast packed enough weaponry to obliterate the squad. Bryndar reflected morbidly that death by bombardment would at least be faster than interrogation and torture at the hands of Yuuzhan Vong warriors. He rolled back over to Jasika even as the commandos blazed away at the Yuuzhan Vong while evading thrown missiles, hoping to exact a steep toll on the Yuuzhan Vong. “Sorry, beautiful, we seem to have taken a wrong turn,” Bryndar told her, chewing his lip nervously. “We tried, but it wasn’t enough.” “Don’t blame yourself,” she said. “I was the one who fired. The sound probably alerted them to your presence.” “Let’s just skip the blame then,” he replied. “I want you to know that I love you very very much.” Suddenly, an earsplitting roar split the skies. Ten Yanibar Guard Fleet starfighters screamed over the ridgeline riding columns of hot ion exhaust. The starfighters swooped forward, unloading lasers and missiles into the Yuuzhan Vong flying creatures while evading return fire from both the ground and air. “And I kriffing love the Yanibar Guard Fleet right about now,” Bryndar exclaimed. Jasika smiled up at him. “We’ll put it on your tab, Cresh Lead,” Bryndar heard a deep voice. “Absolutely,” Bryndar replied. “What outfit do I have the pleasure of buying drinks for?” “Paladin Lead at your service,” the starfighter jockey replied. “Give us a second to deal with these fliers and we’ll clean up any groundpounders that are left.” Bryndar nervously watched as the giant warbeast—he knew it was called a rakamat—continued its inexorable advance even as its weapons pointed skyward. “We might have a problem with that,” Bryndar told the flyboy. “Seems you have it well under control,” Paladin Lead said. “We’ll swing around as soon we can—sorry it took so long to get here. We just heard that Twelve was still alive.” Bryndar was about to point out the urgency of their situation when he heard the sound of a loud whoosh as a dozen missiles ejected themselves violently from their racks. He looked down to see a quartet of hulking Avatar walkers rounding the bend of the ridge. Purple streams of laser cannon fire hosed down the rakamat, followed by more missiles. The beast returned fire, but their shields held. One of the Avatars sported a rail cannon on its centerline torso and it boomed loudly. The round slammed into the beast, unmitigated by defensive dovin basals that were otherwise diverted. The resulting wound caused the creature to stagger. The Avatars continued to pummel it repeatedly, slowly shredding it with weapons fire. “Cresh Lead, this is Steel. Heard you had some Vong trouble?” “What, did everyone hear that we give free drinks to people who save our asses and want a piece of the action?” Bryndar retorted jocularly. “If you like, we can leave,” Steel answered in kind. Bryndar watched as one of the Avatars turned to deal with the Yuuzhan Vong infantry that had been ineffectually assailing it and its fellows. Twin gouts of flame swept out from the Avatar to consume the Yuuzhan Vong. From his vantage point, it looked to Bryndar as if the walker had ignited a sea of fire on the ground, a burning crescent that splashed up against the cliff face. “Burn and die,” called a stern female voice as the firestorm burned. “I have got to get me one of those,” Cresh Three breathed. Bryndar smirked at his remarks. The Paladins seemed to have quickly cleared out the Yuuzhan Vong aerial opposition while the Avatars finally finished off the rakamat. “Sorry about the sneakiness, Cresh Lead, but we wanted to make sure the Vong didn’t know we were coming,” Steel informed him. “We caught a good portion of their forces out here off guard with your help.” “Thanks,” Bryndar answered. “I certainly wasn’t expecting you. What are Avatars doing this far from the base?” “Well, besides saving commandos, we were on patrol out here when the Vong attacked the base. We were waiting at the rendezvous point when we got your distress call and figured it was better to go fight some Vong than sit around.” “Much obliged,” Bryndar said. “Will you get in trouble for that?” “Not likely,” Steel said. “We have some . . . leeway in our tasking. We’ll stay around here until you’re away, then head back to the rendezvous point.” “Fleet reports evac shuttle inbound,” Paladin Lead broke in. “ETA one minute. We diverted one for you. It’ll be crowded, but I don’t think you’ll mind.” “Not at all,” Bryndar said. He squeezed Jasika’s hand as she smiled up at him. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Two minutes later, the commandos and Jasika were piled into a Javelin shuttle headed back over the ridge to the Yanibar Guard base and escorted by Paladin Squadron, safe at last. Bloodthirster Ryion burst into the chamber where he had seen Tsaruuk flee, lightsaber ready. He heard a whirring sound and instinctively threw up his shield. A thud bug smashed into it, jarring his forearm and shoulder before ricocheting off. Ryion whipped his violet lightsaber blade across the bug’s flight path, incinerating it. The chamber was dark, but his goggles allowed him to see without difficulty. He scanned the room in thermal mode and soon located Tsaruuk lurking off to one side, an amphistaff in hand. Ryion advanced slowly, keeping an eye out for blorash jelly traps this time. “Persistent, I applaud that,” Tsaruuk said as he advanced. “And bold, charging after me without assistance. What if this was a trap?” “As I seem to recall, trapping us hasn’t worked so well the last couple times,” Ryion retorted, his voice heated and angry. Leaping high, he attacked Tsaruuk, slashing toward him with a blow aimed at severing his head from his neck. Tsaruuk countered with a smashing parry that threw Ryion off balance when he landed, his bruised ankles still sore from the trauma inflicted by the blorash jelly. The young Jedi recovered quickly even as Tsaruuk stabbed out with his amphistaff. Ryion again caught the strike on his shield, causing the metal to ring with the impact. He fell back as Tsaruuk followed him, pounding away at his defenses with precise and powerful attacks, always careful to switch the amphistaff between whip and spear and club form. The Yuuzhan Vong was a master of deception and time and time again, Ryion was barely able to deflect or parry his attacks. Ryion side-stepped one vicious thrust of the amphistaff’s pointed end, slashing at Tsaruuk’s shoulder with his lightsaber. The blade cut into the vonduun crab armor, but did not pierce it. Tsaruuk snarled and punched at Ryion’s face. Ryion threw up his shield to defend against it, but the force of the blow ignited a spasm of pain in his left shoulder as it was nearly dislocated. The amphistaff suddenly went flexible, seeking to stab him in the back, but Ryion pivoted and whipped his lightsaber around over his shoulder to knock the amphistaff’s tail away, averting what would have been a serious wound. However, even as he did that, Tsaruuk lowered his body and charged at Ryion, tackling him to the floor. Knowing that falling onto his own lightsaber blade would be fatal, Ryion was forced to deactivate the weapon as Tsaruuk slammed him into the floor. Even as he fell, Ryion attempted to bring his arm back around, but Tsaruuk smashed the head of his amphistaff into his weapon hand. Ryion caught the blow with the emitter nozzle of his lightsaber, but the force was sufficient to drive the weapon out of his suddenly numb fingers. Landing hard on his back, Ryion saw Tsaruuk bring the amphistaff up for a stabbing attempt, but he still had his shield and the sturdy metal plate turned away the strike at the cost of further punishment on his already aggravated shoulder. Tsaruuk hammered away at him repeatedly with the amphistaff, but Ryion diverted all his focus into using his shield, bracing it two-handed to deflect the attacks. As such, the only damage Tsaruuk inflicted was a couple minor cuts and bruises. Tsaruuk growled and stomped downward powerfully. Ryion screamed as the foot connected with his lower abdomen and groin, his back arching involuntarily with the pain. Tsaruuk grinned and pressed down, enjoying his adversary’s torment. Despite the waves of agony washing over him , Ryion kicked out powerfully with his free leg, tossing Tsaruuk back several meters. The amphistaff spat venom at him in response but it splashed harmlessly against Ryion’s shield. Ryion leapt to his feet, shunting away the pain with the Force and summoning his lightsaber back to his hand. Unwilling to let Tsaruuk recover, he attacked quickly. By now, the adrenaline coursing through his system had re-energized him and he sought to control it, to sink into the Force and fight in a controlled fashion. The knowledge that he was facing the Yuuzhan Vong responsible for all the bloodshed on Ord Pardron and now Rishi filled him with anger and he struggled to restrain himself even as his lightsaber sparked against Tsaruuk’s amphistaff. Tsaruuk was using his size and strength advantage, as well as his relative immunity to glancing blows, to good effect. He fought back with practiced strength, his amphistaff always probing and seeking an opening in Ryion’s defenses, forcing the Jedi to spend most of his effort defending himself. Ryion’s shoulder throbbed as his lower body protested with each step. He was forced to use both shield and lightsaber to stop a powerful undercut from Tsaruuk since he wasn’t sure if he could jump over it in time. The instant of vulnerability resulted in a backhand across the face that sent him staggering back, his goggles broken and driven up into his face. Half-blinded, Ryion set himself to defend against a follow-up blow, but none came. Instead, there was a tremendous explosion against his shield and a sudden sensation of heat. Ryion hurled off the now-useless goggles with the Force so he could see what had happened. Magma was sliding along the shield and even with the layer of bonded boron carbide behind the metal to insulate, the tremendous heat was seeping through newly-formed cracks in the carbide, nearly to the point of burning. Ryion quickly shucked his arm free of the shield straps, hurling the shield to the ground before the magma seeped through. “Impressive,” Tsaruuk remarked. “I have never before seen an enemy actually survive an impact from a magma pebble.” He held up two more of the rocky projectiles, hurling them at Ryion. Wise to the danger, Ryion hurled the shield into both of them. The resulting detonations doused the floor with burning magma, creating dangerous pools where even a single misstep could prove crippling. “I am glad I can say that I have at last fought a Jeedai,” Tsaruuk told him. “Your forces here have been my most worthy foes. You have fought well, but this ends here.” Ryion glared at him, disregarding his relative vulnerability without the shield to help deflect Tsaruuk’s attacks. Brandishing his lightsaber two-handed, he set himself in a ready stance, prepared to continue combat. “You’re right,” he said. “It does.” Ryion attacked again, but this time, it was different. He was no longer trying to control his emotions and feelings. He had tried that and it had failed him. Ryion could not fight against Tsaruuk, who had incited so much suffering and death, while keeping his mind closed off to his atrocities. This diversion of a certain portion of focus to such mental detachment was distracting him from pitting every fiber of his being against the Yuuzhan Vong. Perhaps his father or Morgedh could have done so, but Ryion was too invested in this fight after having seen the result of Tsaruuk’s actions . The effort required to maintain his emotional distance was siphoning his focus away, so Ryion made no attempt to do so. Instead, he embraced the antithesis of that philosophy, drawing on his emotions and accepting that somewhere deep inside him, in an inner dark spot that he had tried to suppress for so many years, that he wanted Tsaruuk to suffer and die just as so many others had done by the Yuuzhan Vong’s hand. He embraced that feeling and it mingled with his sense of justice, but it did not overmaster him. Instead, he channeled it into his arms, into his bladework. A chill ran down Ryion’s spine as he realized that his lightsaber was moving so fast that it seemed to have a life of its own, and he knew that in embracing his own emotions and directing them into the fight, he was incorporating Vaapad, just as Depa Billaba had shown him. Within seconds, Ryion’s lightsaber had left a half-dozen smoldering gashes on Tsaruuk’s armor. Ryion no longer cared to set himself in careful defensive stances. Instead, he intentionally left himself open to counterattack so he could punish Tsaruuk when the Yuuzhan Vong struck. The humming purple bar of energy blended its attacks together with liquid precision, cracking and popping when it collided with vonduun crab armor or amphistaff. Ryion was vaguely aware that he was moving faster than he had ever fought before. He was no longer in control of his emotions, only controlling the direction and means where they were expressed. His sense of purpose drove him forward, spurring him to attack, while the Force guided his hands. Ryion knew that his motion was constantly unpredictable, switching from short, staccato strikes, to a sudden flurry of blows attacking from every angle at seemingly random moments. Tsaruuk learned not to attack when Ryion was seemingly vulnerable, discovering that the Jedi would only punish him further. While his vonduun crab armor and amphistaff were incredibly durable, Tsaruuk was surprised at his foe’s sudden switch to relentless and unpredictable offense. The Yuuzhan Vong fought defensively, but his warrior’s instincts led him to still seek attempts to strike Ryion. Ryion launched three overhand chops at Tsaruuk, which the warrior blocked. Seeing Ryion’s belly vulnerable, he attempted to stab him, only for the lightsaber to reverse itself impossibly fast and knock the amphistaff back into his chest. A successive slash sliced through a weakened piece of the vonduun crab, drawing a line of seared flesh across Tsaruuk’s thigh. It was a minor wound, but Tsaruuk took it as an indicator that his opponent was slowly overpowering him through his sudden and explosive change in tactics. Realizing that Ryion was seeking to corner him and then slice him to pieces, Tsaruuk leapt back, hurling another magma pebble into the ground. The eruption of molten rock only briefly stayed Ryion, who gazed at him with implacable resolve. “This is Vaapad, Tsaruuk,” Ryion informed him. “How much longer do you think you can keep this up?” “You may kill me, Jeedai, but my warriors will swarm this place. You and your companions will eventually be imprisoned, even if not all of you survive. There is no escape for you and you are too cowardly to deny me the prize that will be mine, even at the cost of my life,” Tsaruuk returned. “There is no victory here for you.” Ryion was about to spit out a sharp retort when suddenly, a villip behind Tsaruuk began quaking and vibrating as the individual connected to the sister villip attempted to contact him. “I think that’s for you,” Ryion remarked sardonically just as his wrist computer beeped, indicating an incoming transmission. A second later, the beep shifted a double-buzz, signifying a priority message. Ryion glanced at it, noting that the transmission was from his father as a small holographic silhouette of Selu appeared from the buzzing comlink in his wrist gauntlet. His eyes quickly returned to Tsaruuk who was still facing him, but seemed concerned by the villip. “We seem to be popular,” Ryion quipped. “Maybe you should answer that.” Sidestepping slowly, lightsaber still held at the ready, Ryion kept his gaze fixed on Tsaruuk, who was mirroring his motion and had reached over and stroked the eversion stoma on the villip begrudgingly. The visage of a Yuuzhan Vong appeared and began speaking. Thankfully for Ryion, a translation module equipped with the New Republic’s latest lexicon of Yuuzhan Vong had been installed in his earpiece. Noticing that Tsaruuk seemed to be at least listening to the warrior, Ryion took the opportunity to play the transmission he was receiving, momentarily holding off from closing the gap between them and unleashing the full force of Vaapad again. “Commander Tsaruuk, Our main body of ground troops has slain many of the infidels on the ground, including hundreds of the Chalactans we came to seek. We are preparing to push through and destroy their infidel base on the ground,” the warrior reported after Tsaruuk glared at him, gesticulating for his report. “It appears your encampment and the infidel refugees you were protecting will soon be destroyed,” Tsaruuk informed him maliciously. “I heard,” Ryion replied evenly. “But I just heard that your fleet in space has been routed. The remnants are about to hunted down and wiped out, and then we’ll see how that ground battle goes.” Tsaruuk shot an angry sidelong glance at the villip. “Is the infidel speaking truth?” “That is what I have heard from the ship master who has taken charge,” the warrior admitted sheepishly. “Less than one third of the ships remain.” “And the infidel fleet?” Tsaruuk demanded. “Mostly intact.” Tsaruuk glowered at Ryion, having run the numbers and calculated that even if his force could be reunited with the remnants of the fleet, he would still be outgunned. He might be able to inflict significant harm on the infidel fleet, but they would prevail. However, if his squadron remained isolated, then both formations could be hunted down and destroyed, making any victory on the ground an empty one, as the infidels could then scour the world and blast his troops from the skies. Tsaruuk had already exhausted his limits with Tsavong Lah and knew garnering more reinforcements would be impossible. “We still have the prisoners on this ship,” Tsaruuk pointed out to Ryion. “If your fleet does not break off pursuit, I will have them killed. Tell that to your leader.” Ryion directed a steely gaze at the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. “The prisoners are still free for the moment,” he said. “Moreover, if you kill us, your squadron will be trapped here forever until you run out of food and oxygen. I hear starvation is a terrible way to die.” Tsaruuk’s gaze was wrathful, but the Yuuzhan Vong remained rational. “So you do have a way to escape the trap you laid for us,” Tsaruuk remarked. “I suspected as much.” “A way which is utterly inaccessible to you,” Ryion warned him. “There are only two people who can activate it without it self-destructing, and if I can’t get all of my people off of this ship, I will most certainly make sure you never get to kill another innocent person again.” “Innocent, Jeedai?” Tsaruuk scoffed. “You speak of innocents to me when your entire galaxy is polluted by infidel abominations and heresy?” “And who ordained those things as abominations and heresy?” Ryion asked. “They are affronts to the gods,” Tsaruuk declared. “Did the gods tell you that?” Ryion replied. “Or did you hear it from their representatives? Was it the gods that told you that the Yuuzhan Vong needed to launch some glorious conquest of this galaxy, or did you learn that secondhand too?” Tsaruuk was irate, incensed by Ryion’s words. “Your insults will not go unpunished,” he said. “So it was secondhand,” Ryion surmised. “And here I was starting to think you were smart. You don’t think for the slightest moment that those emissaries of the divine had anything to gain by recommending invasion? Or how about the warriors they were consorting with?” “Priests and warriors would never mingle like that,” Tsaruuk snarled. “That would be blasphemous, just like you and your machine abominations.” Ryion sighed. He hoped to plant some seeds of doubt in Tsaruuk to help sway him from his bloodlust and the path of mutual annihilation, but the Yuuzhan Vong was recalcitrant. The Force flowed through him and crackled around his skin as he kept it contained, ready to unleash a burst of crippling Force lightning at Tsaruuk. Still, perhaps the warrior deserved one last entreaty. “This won’t end well for you,” Ryion warned him. “I am fully capable of and prepared to kill you.” “If I die, so do all your companions,” Tsaruuk spat. “If they die, then your entire fleet here will perish,” Ryion returned bluntly. “As will the remnant of ships that has already been defeated and the troops you have on the ground.” “Not before your infidel encampment is overrun. Many of your soldiers will die, as will the civilians you are attempting to protect,” Tsaruuk said. “There will be no victory for you here.” “I can accept that,” Ryion answered. “Can you?” “The Yuuzhan Vong do not fear death,” Tsaruuk snapped, but there was a moment’s hesitation that clued Ryion in. “Yes, but you have no desire to die senselessly, do you?” Ryion asked. “Neither do I. Perhaps we can negotiate an agreement?” “Why should I listen to you?” Tsaruuk growled, brandishing his amphistaff. Ryion frowned and raised one hand. Lightning crackled as it flew from his fingers to hit Tsaruuk, engulfing him in tendrils of energy. The Yuuzhan Vong was hurled back into the wall, limbs twitching spastically. Tsaruuk was still conscious, judging from his groans, which was good because Ryion wasn’t finished yet. He muttered something into his comlink while Tsaruuk lay prone and nodded satisfactorily when he received an affirmative answer. “I’m not done talking,” Ryion told him sternly. “We can either destroy each other, in which both sides lose, but numerically speaking, you lose more since a good portion of our fleet will escape. Or, we can call a truce.” “What?” Tsaruuk asked incredulously. “We both stop fighting,” Ryion explained. “You will let me and all of my people escape from this ship unmolested and your ground troops will cease their assault on Rishi and our base there and return all prisoners you have taken. Instead, those warriors will withdraw from Rishi completely. In return, our fleet will not give your remaining ships the destruction they so richly deserve and we won’t pulverize your ground troops either. I’ll even give you a way to get this squadron here a way back to Coruscant. Neither side has to lose any more lives. We put past grievances aside until after your forces have left this system.” “Why would I agree to something like that?” Tsaruuk snarled. “Because the prospect of pointless annihilation doesn’t sit well with you,” Ryion said. “If it did, you would have already ordered the prisoners to be killed, or you would have destroyed our shuttle on the way in. You want something out of this, Tsaruuk. I’m giving you a way out.” Tsaruuk glared at Ryion as he slowly stood to his feet. “Why should I trust you?” “The same reason I didn’t kill you when I had the chance,” Ryion said. “Because I’m a better person than you are.” “Strong words from an infidel weakling,” Tsaruuk scoffed. “Strong words from the warrior who can’t even pick his nose right now,” Ryion retorted. “Either we have a deal or I kill you and re-negotiate with your second-in-command and so on until I find a Yuuzhan Vong with some sense.” “How do you know you can trust me?” “I don’t,” Ryion said. “But it’s really quite simple. If you attempt to backstab us in the next six hours, we destroy you and you destroy as many of us as you can. In which we both lose, just the Yuuzhan Vong lose more. We know about what you did at Ithor, and if you try it here, we’ll be ready.” “And you would set aside all past grievances?” Tsaruuk pressed as he slowly heaved himself off the deck, having partially recovered from the electrical surge Ryion had inflicted on him. “Yes, despite all of the terrible things you’ve done and probably will do, I’m willing to put that on hold for now,” Ryion said with a frown, wondering why Tsaruuk would belabor this point so heavily. Tsaruuk gave him an evil grin. “Then I accept,” he said, coiling the amphistaff around his wrist and stalking uneasily over to the villip. “Did you hear that?” Ryion asked, speaking into his comlink. “I heard,” Selu replied. “And the terms are acceptable. Tell him he has six hours to get all of his forces off of Rishi. That’s long enough to withdraw, not long enough to call in reinforcements.” “Not all of my warriors may comply,” Tsaruuk warned Ryion. “Some of them are stubborn.” “We will defend ourselves as necessary,” Ryion answered as he deactivated his lightsaber, but kept it in hand. “Thank you for your honesty.” Tsaruuk grabbed the villip. “All forces are to break off attack and withdraw from Rishi,” he ordered. “Do not engage the infidels at all. Relay that order to warriors under my command.” “Great One,” the warrior protested. “Do it,” Tsaruuk insisted. “Or I will come down there and gut you myself. You have your orders.” He stroked the villip again and it reverted. Tsaruuk turned to face Ryion. “Just so you know, your doom is already laid, Jeedai,” he gloated. “My warrior scouts have found both of your planets. Nothing you have done here will matter once the full might of the Yuuzhan Vong is brought to bear. Your worlds are doomed.” Ryion was momentarily confused by the mention of two worlds since the only homeworld he knew of was Yanibar. A chill ran down his spine as he contemplated the Yuuzhan Vong reaching Yanibar, but he also knew that the DMS minefield would protect them from any direct assault, and that the defense of Rishi had bought enough time for the minefield to be brought online and even reinforced. Tsaruuk’s threat was emptier than the warrior realized. As for the other world, Ryion recalled what the projection of Milya had said about defeating a group of warriors; she would have mentioned if some had escaped. However, he could not stop concern for Yanibar from being reflected in his facial expression. His hand tightened around the lightsaber hilt, finger probing for the activation stud, but he restrained himself. Tsaruuk was a murderous butcher and a bloodthirsty conqueror, but Ryion would not gain anything by killing him and violating the truce. As many of the Yanibar Guard as possible would be needed to defend Yanibar, if it came to that. Ryion exhaled slowly, releasing his anger. He would choose the honorable path, knowing that his choices had impact beyond satisfying his own emotions. “One day, Tsaruuk, you’ll be brought to justice for that,” Ryion warned him. “That’s a promise. Until then, I’ll count our taking out both groups of warriors that found those worlds as a down payment.” In truth, Ryion had no idea if the Yuuzhan Vong that Tsaruuk had claimed had located Yanibar had been killed, but he couldn’t imagine a Yuuzhan Vong scout ship escaping from the extensive defenses around Yanibar. It was a safe assumption. “What did you say?” Tsaruuk asked suddenly, the menace gone from his voice. “I said we took out your scouting parties,” Ryion answered slowly. Tsaruuk gave him no reply, stalking over to one of the villips. He stroked it hurriedly, but the creature did not evert. The Yuuzhan Vong hissed, his shoulders shaking. Ryion brought the lightsaber up to a ready stance but did not ignite it, unwilling to risk provoking the Tsaruuk further. “If you are speaking the truth, then you have cost me more dearly than I could have thought,” Tsaruuk said bitterly. “Did your infidels fight a female warrior among these scouts?” “I don’t know,” Ryion answered evasively. “They might have been destroyed in space.” “Find out,” Tsaruuk snarled viciously. “Or this truce is off.” Ryion stiffened. “All right,” he said, tapping his comlink. “Do you think you can find out?” “I’ll see what I can do,” Selu answered. “I’ll need to get in touch with both ends and find out what’s going on.” Ryion waited for another tense two minutes, uneasy at seeing the vitriol reflected in Tsaruuk’s eyes and his hunched-over posture. Then, a projection of Milya appeared in the room. Tsaruuk started in surprise, reaching for the amphistaff. “It’s just a message,” Ryion reassured him. “Infidel sorcery,” Tsaruuk muttered. “What is it, Ryion?” Milya asked. “I’m in a room with Tsaruuk, the Yuuzhan Vong commander,” Ryion informed her. “He’s agreed to a truce of sorts so we don’t destroy each other, but he wants me to pass on a question to you. We’re obliging him in good faith. Out of those Yuuzhan Vong you fought, did you kill them all?” “Yes,” Milya said. “And their ship. Nothing escaped.” “And was there a female warrior among the warriors you fought?” Ryion asked, glancing at Tsaruuk. “Also correct,” Milya answered slowly. “An incredible fighter.” “So she’s dead?” Ryion pressed. “Yes, after a hard battle,” Milya said. “Nearly cut me to pieces.” Tsaruuk slammed a fist into his own leg. “Is there anything else?” Ryion asked him. “She was my mate,” Tsaruuk grated out the admission, glaring at the apparition of Milya. “What is this about, Ryion?” Milya asked him, as she was unable to hear or see Tsaruuk. “You killed his wife,” Ryion replied. “It was her or us,” Milya said bluntly. “She didn’t give me a choice.” “I understand,” Ryion told her, drawing on his limited knowledge of Yuuzhan Vong culture. “I believe Tsaruuk might appreciate it if we sent her back to her people for their funerary rites.” To her credit, Milya kept her reaction appropriately restrained and solemn, choosing her words carefully. “I can arrange that for a warrior of her caliber,” she said. “Yes,” Tsaruuk hissed. “Send her back, infidel, so she may be treated honorably.” “We will,” Ryion said. “You’ll find that we’re good at keeping our word.” “So am I,” Tsaruuk snarled. “And I promise you that I will see you and your world burn. I will have my revenge!” Ryion stood ready in case the Yuuzhan Vong decided to attack him, but Tsaruuk hunched back over the non-responsive villip. “Leave, Jeedai, before I change my mind,” Tsaruuk ground out. “If I ever see you again, I will kill you.” Ryion retreated cautiously, lightsaber still in hand. “Remember, six hours,” Ryion warned him. “I heard you the first time, infidel,” Tsaruuk growled. “Leave the way you came.” Sensing that the Yuuzhan Vong was in a dangerous mood, Ryion left the chamber. He was alert for any sign of an ambush, but he saw no sign of any Yuuzhan Vong as he withdrew, retracing the steps he had taken since his and Zeyn’s intrusion into the warship. He found Zeyn, Kyle, and the other prisoners at the shuttle, also unmolested. Zeyn had been listening in during his negotiations and attempted to ply him with questions, but Ryion cut him off curtly, insisting that they focus on leaving the Yuuzhan Vong ship and forestall any other conversation until later. Seeing the grim expression on his face, Zeyn wisely acquiesced.
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