Walls buckled and the uppermost floor pancaked into the second one. The exterior walls cracked and sagged in, albeit unevenly, providing some room for survivors to hunker down. Smoke and dust poured out through broken viewports, with the wailings of the trapped and wounded following closely behind.
Shedao Shai picked himself up off the ground and snarled. The villip on his left shoulder started chattering, but the whine of blaster bolts tearing through the jungle on his right flank alerted him to his immediate problem. The fact that he heard nothing from his left flank displeased him even more. He snapped an order into the villip, ordering a withdrawal, and began to stalk back through the night.
How could I have allowed this to happen? His eyes tightened. Elegos! The Caamasi had been so open and peaceful, so intelligent and honest, that Shedao Shai had discounted the sort of cunning and guile such an ambush would require. They might have even anticipated what I thought of them based on my contact with Elegos. These people are not the Chazrach. Their conquest will not come easily.
Shedao Shai let an angry howl split the night. It will come, though, and it will be at my hands.
Mara heard Anakin’s call and the order he’d been given to head to the opal grove. She reached out with her senses and picked him up, then got flashes of trouble in the vicinity. She keyed her comlink. “Jade moving to intercept Twelve.”
Mara felt the Force flood through her. She’d been waiting deep in the Jedi formation, across the green strip from where Anakin had been stationed. The fighting on her side had not been fierce, so she’d not been asked to move up. As she raced along a walkway, then vaulted the balustrade to drop to the next level below, she found out why.
The Yuuzhan Vong had made a solid drive at the center of the Jedi formation. Kyp Durron and Wurth Skidder, both bleeding from numerous cuts, faced four of the warriors. Beyond them, coming down the walkway, Anakin had stopped at the top of a small rise. He’d set Daeshara’cor down and, with two lightsabers, was holding off a knot of the reptoids.
The idiots should have called for help! Mara thumbed her lightsaber to life, splashing a cold blue glow over the Yuuzhan Vong. She launched herself into a long, flying somersault, then ducked beneath the slash meant to open her from hip to hip. She stabbed her blade through the space between the Yuuzhan Vong’s legs, then cocked her wrist and stroked the blade against the back of his left knee. Tugging, she came up and through the limb, severing it completely.
Snarling, the warrior began to go down. Mara leapt above the weak return slash, then came down with a heel hard on the fallen Yuuzhan Vong’s wrist. Bones crunched and the amphistaff rolled free. Mara batted aside the warrior’s other hand, scattering fingers, then stabbed her blade through his throat.
Mara spun as Wurth shrieked. The man reeled back, his right forearm bent where no elbow existed, and bent in a direction that no elbow could take it. His lightsaber was nowhere to be seen. His Yuuzhan Vong foe whirled the amphistaff, sending a hum through the air, and pressed his attack. With the flick of a finger, Mara send a handful of dirt from a planter flying into the warrior’s face. The Yuuzhan Vong clawed at his eyes to clear them, giving Kyp Durron a chance to slash him across the belly.
That Yuuzhan Vong warrior sighed all too peacefully as he collapsed. Another warrior arced his amphistaff at Mara, opening a cut in her left shoulder. Mara parried the return slash, then spun and kicked the warrior in the chest. He pitched back, then caught his heels on his dead comrade’s body. As he went down, Mara disarmed him with a cut through the wrist, then stabbed him through the chest and melted his heart.
Kyp’s violet and white blade swept up in a mighty cut that sliced through the Yuuzhan Vong’s chest from right hip to left shoulder. The Yuuzhan Vong spun away from the blow and staggered several steps, clutching at his ruined middle. He held the cleaved breastplate closed as if that would save him, then sat back against a wall and slid to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
Mara jabbed her lightsaber toward Wurth. “Get him out of here. I see blood—it’s a compound fracture. Cauterize it with your lightsaber if you have to.”
Kyp’s eyes narrowed. “He’ll survive. I’m not going to leave you here.”
“I don’t need your help, Kyp. He does. Just go on while there’s still time. Do it.”
He stared at her through a mask of blood flowing from a scalp wound. “I know my duty.”
“Then do your duty toward your friend.” She snarled as she ran toward Anakin. “Get him clear!”
Up on the walkway, the twin lightsabers had allowed Anakin to hold off the reptoids, but the four of them were pressing him closely. Mara gathered the Force to herself to make the leap up to his level, but before she could launch herself, one of the reptoids shifted his grip on the amphistaff and swung it around at waist height. His blow bisected his target.
Then the reptoid lunged and caught the second of his comrades with a thrust to the chest. As the third looked on in amazement, Anakin lashed out with his purple blade, burning the surprise from that reptoid’s face. A quick lunge with Daeshara’cor’s scarlet blade killed the last reptoid, who thrashed out his last moments of life at Mara’s feet as she landed.
“What did you do, Anakin?”
“Nothing.” The boy smiled and looked past her. Mara spun and saw Luke standing there, all serene and calm in the midst of the chaos.
The Jedi Master waved them toward him with a hand. “Let’s go. Anakin, you lead.”
Mara extinguished her lightsaber, then tossed Daeshara’cor over her shoulders in an emergency carry. “What did you do?” She took great comfort in his presence.
“Swapped images of Anakin and the other reptoids in that one’s mind. Wasn’t much of a trick.”
“But an effective one.” She nodded. “You saw Kyp and Wurth.”
“Ahead of us. You can see the blood.” Luke touched his hand to the middle of Mara’s back. “You should have called me to help.”
“I figured you heard my comm and would come if needed.” She laughed lightly so he’d know she was smiling. “And I’m glad you did.”
“Thanks for saving Anakin.”
“I owed him.” Her smile broadened as she saw Anakin warding a corridor entrance with his twin blades. “Besides, a century from now, when Jedi are singing ballads about the great Jedi hero, Anakin Solo, I want to be known for being a bit more than the woman he saved at Dantooine.”
“Oh, I think, Mara,” her husband said quietly, “that won’t be a problem at all.”
Aboard the Legacy of Torment, Deign Lian saw the weapons on one of the infidel ships flash. Their golden-red bolts lanced down at one of the smaller ships in the Yuuzhan Vong formation and blew through the voids raised to intercept such weak shots. The energy projectiles boiled yorick coral on the hull, converting it from solid to vapor, which jetted back out into space.
Two shots that hit along the dorsal ridge exposed the living ship’s main neural channel to the cold of space. Tissue froze instantly, imposing an icy block that prevented data from flowing to and from the bridge and the forward part of the ship. The dovin basals there, being deprived of sensory data about incoming enemy fire, dropped into a standard wait state, positioning voids as best they could, to protect themselves and the ship.
Heavier shots poured down from the enemy ships. Some sank into the voids, but the rest punched past the defenses. They peppered the hull, walking in a line from prow to midship. Half-melted yorick coral panels broke off and whirled free. The front half of the ship disintegrated under the barrage. Agony’s Child twisted in flight, snapping off the skeletal structure that had been its front half, and began to orbit Ithor as a new, dead moon.
What is happening? We had a strategy. Deign Lian watched as another ship came under a withering assault. It began to glow white and spread out like ice on a hot rock. That can’t be happening!
In an instant, Deign Lian knew what he had to do. He issued an order to all ships, commanding them to pull back to the daylight si
de of the world. He concentrated his own fire on the smaller enemy ships, discouraging pursuit, and slowly let the world’s green disk eclipse the enemy force.
Seething, Deign Lian pulled his head from the cognition hood. He knew this would happen. That is why he is down there. He did this on purpose, to shame me.
The Yuuzhan Vong nodded solemnly. And he sent for reinforcements. He’ll not have them from me. I hope he is dead. If he isn’t, I might just have to kill him myself.
The Jedi jungle task force hit the Yuuzhan Vong command center hard. Jacen triggered two shots from the speeder bike’s blaster cannon. They struck a Yuuzhan Vong warrior, spinning his headless body around and smashing it against the hull of the crate. Other blaster shots killed reptoids, though several Jedi dismounted to finish the last few with their lightsabers. Jacen knew it was less because they wanted the kill than it was to prevent themselves from feeling so distant and insulated from the life they took.
Corran leapt from his speeder bike’s seat and tugged the case free of its bindings. With his lightsaber unlit in his right hand, he ran to the crate. Jacen followed close at his heels, and Ganner came right behind. Jacen pounded up the landing ramp with his lightsaber at the ready, but found Corran alone in the ship’s interior save for one cowering reptoid tucked down in a corner.
The elder Jedi stood before a bank of villips and studied them. Most bore the likeness of a Yuuzhan Vong, though Jacen could not really tell them apart. A few of the villips slackened and smoothed as he watched, leading him to assume the Yuuzhan Vong or villip paired with it was out of commission.
“How do you know which one to talk to?”
Corran had set the case down and had his left hand pressed to his mouth. “I’m looking for one who looks important. Chances of Shai being here are slender, but whoever is in command would have his . . . well, whatever the Vong have that passes for ears.”
Jacen shrugged. “Sort on ugly?”
“That might work.” Corran smiled suddenly. “It’s a good day for our team. Can’t forget that ugly face.” He reached out and slapped a particular villip none too softly. “Shedao Shai, this is Corran Horn. I own your command center, and it’s my people harrying your flanks. You have some regular New Republic commandos on your right, and Noghri on your left. Bet the left is real quiet.”
The Yuuzhan Vong villip visage hardened. “You have less honor than a ngdin.”
Corran glanced at Jacen, but the young man shrugged. “I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“I might not have any honor, but I do have a packet of bones here. I think you wanted these.”
“Their return does not mitigate your treachery.”
“They haven’t been returned yet, pal. I have a deal for you. You don’t agree, I send these bones into the sun.”
The Yuuzhan Vong’s eyes became slits. “Your deal is?”
“What we both want. You, me, our seconds: the bones against Ithor. You win, you get the bones. I win, I get the planet.” Corran’s voice took on an edge. “Our forces have a truce until we can fight this out. We each recover our dead, then you and I settle this.”
“You bargain like a merchant.” The villip’s lip curled into a sneer. “Elegos would have been ashamed at how low you’ve sunk.”
“Well, you’ve taken care to see we won’t ever know what he thought, haven’t you? You and me, Shedao Shai; the bones against Ithor.”
“How long until we meet?”
Corran hesitated for a moment. “A lunar cycle. I’m a Jedi. I want to fight under a full moon.”
“Remember the lesson of Sernpidal. I can make it so you will fight beneath a full moon. Two planetary cycles. There is a tabletop mountain west of here. We will do it there.”
“Two weeks.”
“Four days.”
“Ten.”
“I tire of this game, jeedai.” Fury poured through the words. “A week. No longer.”
Corran nodded. “A week.”
The villip’s face softened for a second, then sharpened. “Seven planetary cycles from now, a truce until then. It shall be done.”
“Good, very good. I’ll see you then.”
“Yes, you shall.” The villip’s voice sank to a gravelly growl. “Come prepared to die.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Admiral Pellaeon stood on the Chimaera’s bridge, his hands clasped behind his back. He stared at the hologram of his New Republic counterpart. “Yes, Admiral Kre’fey, I agree that we got away better than I expected in all this. The Jedi truce is longer than I had hoped.”
“I agree, Admiral, and we are putting the time to good use.” The Bothan paced slowly, the holocam panning to keep him in the center of the image. “The modification we made to our gunnery seemed very effective and took two of their smaller ships down quickly. I’m not certain how they will respond in the future, but by switching tactics in a battle we can take advantage of their weaknesses. I have fleet techs working on the modifications now.”
“As do I,” Pellaeon replied. “You expect the Yuuzhan Vong will not live up to this agreement if their fighter loses?”
“That, or my cousin will urge an immediate and full strike if Horn dies. This bargain has not proved popular here.” Kre’fey scratched at his snowy throat. “Regardless, we know we will face the Yuuzhan Vong again. I have some new ideas, the files on which I am transmitting to you now. I have a ship in reserve to help us, if you think we should proceed.”
“I’ll review the files and let you know.” Pellaeon gave his New Republic counterpart a nod. “Do wish Horn the best for me. Were I forty years younger, I would offer to take his place.”
“He will appreciate hearing that, sir.” The Bothan flashed fangs in a smile. “I don’t think there’s a person in the fleet that wouldn’t say the same thing. Well, maybe one, but there is always an exception to the rule.”
Corran slowly screwed the butt cap onto his freshly recharged lightsaber. “So, Chief Fey’lya, I’m getting the impression you don’t approve of my having made this deal with the Vong leader. For the four hundred twenty-seventh time, in fact.”
The Bothan stabbed a clawed finger at him. “And I’ll make the point a thousand times more, if I need to. You had no right, no authority to usurp the New Republic’s perogative to make war with your stupid duel. I will make that point until you understand it and recant this bargain.”
The Jedi’s green eyes hardened. “Perhaps you need to understand something: I don’t give a bucket of Hutt spit for what you think. I would remind you that because of your unwillingness to sanction the Jedi, I was recalled into the New Republic military. I made that deal under that authority.”
“You were not the ranking officer on the ground.”
“Actually, I was. General Dendo was wounded.”
“But you didn’t know that.”
Corran gave him a toothy grin. “You telling me I couldn’t have felt it through the Force?”
That brought the Bothan up short, but earned Corran a frown from the third person in the crowded cabin, Luke Skywalker. “Corran, now is not the time to play such games with Chief Fey’lya.”
“You’re correct, Master. No time for games at all.” The Corellian Jedi glanced down at the lightsaber in his hand. “Chief Fey’lya, you’ve forgotten our history. Over a decade and a half ago you forbade me to do something. I resigned from the New Republic military, as did the rest of Rogue Squadron, and we accomplished our goal anyway. So, consider this my resignation from the military again. Your authority over me ends now.”
Fey’lya blinked his violet eyes, then glanced at Luke. “Master Skywalker, order him to leave off from this duel.”
“No.”
The Bothan’s eyes became amethyst slits. “The Jedi sanction this duel?”
Luke stared back. “A week from now, I’m going down to Ithor to act as Corran’s second.”
“So then, the Jedi claim the right to determine Ithor’s fate.”
Th
e sly tone in Fey’lya’s words sent a spark of anger through Corran. “He’s right, Master, the Jedi can’t be caught in that trap. I quit being a Jedi, too.”
“You can’t.”
“Okay, fire me.” Corran frowned. “Um, there are parts of the Jedi Code I don’t buy into, and these robes chafe. There’s insubordination for you. Ditch me. This is one trench run you don’t need to make.”
The Jedi Master slowly shook his head. “What you do not understand, Chief Fey’lya, is that Corran has acted to preserve life. Even if he falls, he is but one life lost against all those we are evacuating. One family will weep, not many. And when he wins, Ithor will be safe and the Yuuzhan Vong will know this invasion will not be without gross cost to them.”
Corran’s flesh tightened as Luke spoke. Looking at Borsk Fey’lya, it became apparent that while the Bothan heard the words, their true meanings never penetrated his brain. He’s off figuring how he will spin this, win or lose, to his advantage.
Corran flipped his lightsaber around and offered the dark end to the Fey’lya. “Here, take it, go down and fight him yourself.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“I know that, Chief, and not because I think you’re a coward.” Corran shook his head slowly, then reversed the blade, leaving his thumb poised over the ignition button. “This fight isn’t your fight, it’s mine. I’m suited to it, and since losing is not something I can do, I won’t.”
The Bothan half-snarled at him. “If you fail, you will join Thrawn and Vader in the minds of the people.”
“If I lose, Chief Fey’lya, Ithor will be forgotten in the bloodbath that follows.” Corran purged himself of anger and set his face in a calm mask. “It is to prevent just that which brings me to fight Shedao Shai. The preservation of life and freedom are the only reasons ever to fight. In their cause, I will win.”