The Unifying Force (16 page)

“We don’t know yet who or what was responsible,” Luke said. “We’re hoping the Yuuzhan Vong will explain.”

He advanced a step, but no one in the group moved.

“You could hurl us aside with a thought,” Senshi said. “But you won’t, if you’re a true servant of the Force.”

Luke lowered his hood and gazed at him. “And if you serve the Force, you’ll allow us to pass.”

The Ferroan gestured toward the cliff dwelling. “As an enemy of Zonama Sekot, the Yuuzhan Vong should be ours to deal with.”

“To deal with how?” Luke asked calmly. “Will torturing or killing him return Zonama Sekot to Mobus? Have you asked yourselves how Sekot might react to your taking matters into your own hands?”

“Look around you, Jedi,” another Ferroan said. “Have you ever witnessed Zonama thus? Not one of us has. For all any of us knows, Sekot could be unconscious—or worse.”

Luke considered mentioning Jabitha’s spectral visit to his and Mara’s dwelling, but decided that Sekot must have had some reason for not appearing to and reassuring the Ferroans as well.

“Give us a chance to talk with the Yuuzhan Vong before you decide on a course of action,” he said after a moment.

The Ferroans mulled over Luke’s proposal. “Only if one of us is present,” Senshi answered for all of them.

“Which of you?” Luke asked, glancing at everyone.

A young man with white hair stepped forward. “I will go. I am called Maydh.”

Luke nodded. “Then it’s decided.”

The Ferroans separated into two groups, allowing the Jedi
unobstructed access to the cliff dwelling. Luke and the rest came out of the rain to find Harrar seated on the floor by the hearth, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His face and body were battered, and his front teeth were broken. Tekli stood to one side, ministering to his injuries. Rodentlike, though bipedal, the Chadra-Fan looked positively diminutive next to her tall, bandaged patient.

Each of the priest’s hands was missing two digits, but their absence had nothing to do with the injuries he had sustained on Zonama Sekot. Thick as a mane, his glossy black hair draped over his tattoo-covered shoulders. Tahiri Veila, whose own forehead bore traces of Yuuzhan Vong markings, was conversing with him quietly in Yuuzhan Vong.

Danni had assured Luke that Harrar was unarmed.

Tahiri was about to introduce Luke and the others when Harrar cut her off with a motion of his hand.

“I will speak to them in your tongue.” His drooping eyes darted briefly to Tahiri. “Though I may look to you for clarification from time to time.” His gaze returned to the Jedi, settling on each in turn.

Luke regarded the priest for a long moment, then said, “I am Luke Skywalker. This is my wife, Mara.”

Harrar’s eyes lit up in obvious recognition of the names. “The Master of the
Jeedai
. And the one who fell victim to coomb spores,” he added, referring to Mara, who had been cured of the disease only with the birth of her son, Ben.

Luke continued. “You’ve already met Tahiri and Corran, and, by now, Tekli and Danni.” He gestured to his right. “That leaves only Saba, Jacen, and Maydh—whose world you obviously came to destroy.”

“Jacen Solo,” Harrar said, in what might almost have been taken for awe. “I have observed you from afar, young
Jeedai
, figuratively and literally.”

Luke tucked his hands into the sleeves of his cloak and sat down opposite Harrar on a short-legged stool. “You seem to know more about us than we know about you. Perhaps you’re willing to correct that.”

“Perhaps.”

The rest of the Jedi and Maydh sat down in a loose semicircle.

“You told Corran and Tahiri that you, Nen Yim, and the Prophet were seeking answers from Zonama Sekot—nothing more.”

Harrar nodded. “We kept to ourselves that each of us had a separate agenda.” He paused briefly. “Nen Yim was a shaper—at one time apprenticed to Mezhan Kwaad, who attempted to remake Tahiri into one of us on the world you know as Yavin Four. Shimrra had tasked Nen Yim to analyze an organic ship that was grown here, on Zonama Sekot. In doing so, she made a remarkable discovery that appears in many ways to link this world with the Yuuzhan Vong. She came here seeking verification of her theories.

“As for Yu’shaa, the Prophet, well, his alleged reason for accompanying us was to determine if Zonama Sekot could be of some use to the heretical movement he helped organize among the Shamed Ones on Yuuzhan’tar.”

“And your reason?” Mara asked.

“Of less noble principle,” Harrar said. “I suspected that shaper Nen Yim was also a heretic—though of a different order. I suspected further that Shimrra was aware of her unorthodox practices, which meant that he, too, was a heretic. Finally, I was interested in unmasking Yu’shaa, and in determining whether or not he was genuine in his beliefs.”

“The Prophet killed Nen Yim and left you for dead,” Luke said. “Was that because you and Nen Yim succeeded in unmasking him?”

“No. His purpose was to make certain that we didn’t survive to share in the glory of destroying Zonama Sekot.” Harrar looked at Luke. “As it happens, you know him.”

Luke waited.

“He is none other than Nom Anor.”

It was nothing Luke hadn’t already heard from Corran and Tahiri, but he had wanted to hear it from the priest.

“We know that,” Mara said, breaking the silence. “But something isn’t right. Nom Anor may have come here masquerading as the Prophet. But I can’t accept that Nom Anor is the one who has been influencing the Shamed Ones to place their faith in the
Jedi.”

“I confess to being astonished, as well,” Harrar said. “But you must understand, because of what happened at Ebaq
Nine, Nom Anor had little option but to place himself as far as possible from Shimrra’s reach—which is not an easy thing to do. In Yuuzhan’tar’s underground places, Nom Anor probably fell in with the heretics, and gradually saw some advantage to becoming their chief instigator and voice.”

“Now, that doesn’t surprise me,” Mara said.

“But he must have realized that Zonama Sekot can provide an end to the war,” Luke said. “So why attempt to destroy it, when his … followers stood to gain the most?”

Harrar shook his head. “I can only speculate. Perhaps his actions here have enabled him to reingratiate himself with Shimrra—for Shimrra fears this world more than you know. It has always been Nom Anor’s desire to be escalated, and the possibility of escalation may have been reason enough for him to forsake the heretics who placed their trust in him.

“It’s also plausible that Nom Anor has been working secretly for Shimrra all the while—even as the Prophet. Shimrra may have wished to create a perceived problem on Yuuzhan’tar to distract the elite from more pressing problems, regarding the war and the rebellious nature of Yuuzhan’tar’s World Brain. Or he may have planned to use the growing ‘heresy’ as justification for ridding our society of undesirables and pariahs.”

Harrar sighed with purpose. “Nom Anor is a consummate infidel. He thinks only of his own ambitions.” He glanced around the small room. “But it appears that he was unsuccessful in eliminating Zonama Sekot as a potential threat to his and Shimrra’s plans.”

“That remains to be seen,” Corran said. “Either as a result of Nom Anor’s actions, or as a way of protecting itself, Zonama Sekot jumped into hyperspace. To where, we’ve yet to learn. Maybe deeper into the Unknown Regions; maybe closer to known space. If this rain ever stops, we may be able to figure out where we are. But so far Sekot hasn’t seen fit to help us.”

“Sekot,” Harrar repeated.

“Zonama’s guiding intelligence,” Jacen said.

Harrar absorbed it. “Yet more similarities with Yuuzhan’tar …”

“Or Coruscant, as we like to call it,” Corran said roughly.

Harrar glanced at him and smiled faintly. “I speak not of your reshaped galactic capital, but of the primordial home-world of the Yuuzhan Vong. Well before she died at Nom Anor’s hand, Nen Yim had come to believe that this world is startlingly similar to the descriptions of Yuuzhan’tar that have passed down to us in history and legends.”

The priest turned to Maydh. “More, that the Ferroans are what we ourselves might have become.” Deep sorrow tugged at Harrar’s scarified features. “These realizations saddened and shattered Nen Yim’s faith, as indeed they have shattered mine.”

“We know that one of your early reconnaissance fleets happened on Zonama Sekot,” Jacen said, “while it was still in known space.”

“Happened on
is hardly the proper phrase, young
Jeedai
. As I said, there is much that links Zonama Sekot to the Yuuzhan Vong. Nen Yim discovered many similarities that cannot be attributed to coincidence. Zonama Sekot and the Yuuzhan Vong can only have had access to the same protocols in fashioning ships and other devices.”

“Ships, yes,” Luke said. “But the engines that drive Sekotan ships are not organic, Harrar.”

The priest waved in dismissal. “Nor are they made of yorik coral. But what matters is that they are
grown
.” He shrugged. “Untrained in the shapers’ arts, I can’t provide the proof you desire. But I know in my heart what is true, and what isn’t.”

“Why didn’t you ever attempt to return to Zonama Sekot after the first encounter?” Jacen asked.

“Because few knew of the encounter.” Harrar fell silent for a moment, then said: “I will tell you things I didn’t reveal to Nen Yim—or Nom Anor—if only to further an understanding between us. There were rumors during the final days of the reign of Quoreal—Shimrra’s predecessor—that a living world had been discovered. Rumors, too, that Quoreal’s priests had interpreted the encounter as a sign that we should avoid contact with your galaxy. The ancient texts make clear the existence of a world that was anathema to us—one that could well prove our undoing.”

“You invaded, anyway,” Mara said.

Harrar nodded. “We were dying. Shimrra recognized this. Emboldened by his domain, he usurped Quoreal’s throne and
directed the worldship convoy to continue as planned, granting his full blessing to the invasion, assuring everyone that the gods had informed him that your galaxy was to be our new home—providing that we could cleanse it, or at least convert all of you to the truth.

“No mention was made of the living world. Those of less than elite rank accepted on faith that Shimrra had received the divine word. Shimrra is not one to be trifled with, in any case. When the invasion progressed easily, many of us set aside our doubts. We convinced ourselves that Shimrra’s decision was correct, and that the gods were favoring us. Only of late has doubt reared its head once more. The heretical movement, the defeat at Ebaq Nine, the continuing problems on Yuuzhan’tar …” Harrar looked at Jacen. “Which I suspect owe something to you, young
Jeedai
. And to Vergere.”

“You knew her?” Jacen asked in surprise.

“Better than you, and yet obviously not nearly as well. She was one of the samples returned to the worldship convoy by reconnaissance ships. She became the familiar of priestess Falung; then, eventually, of priestess Elan, of the deception sect, who served aboard my vessel …” Harrar smiled lightly. “When I had a vessel.”

“Elan,” Luke said, with narrowed eyes.

The priest took a moment to puzzle it out. “Ah, yes, I’d almost forgotten about the plan to poison the
Jeedai
with bo’tous. Foolishly devised. Whatever became of poor Elan?”

“She died horribly—of bo’tous poisoning,” Mara said sharply.

“Vergere was a Jedi,” Jacen said, with some pride.

Harrar was unfazed. “So I subsequently learned.” He appraised Jacen, then Luke, Mara, and the others. “I have been preoccupied with you from the very start. Not in the same way Tsavong Lah was preoccupied. Nor as Nom Anor continues to be.” His gaze favored Luke. “We are not as dissimilar as you would like to believe.”

Luke grinned lightly. “I would like to believe that we are, in fact, very similar, and that you exist in the Force, as does all life.”

“The enigmatic Force,” Harrar said slowly. “But consider this, Master
Jeedai
. We revere life as much as, if not more,
than you do. The Force gives you strength; the gods give us strength. Like you, we feel the craving to merge fully with life; to feel, sense, experience the interconnectedness of all things—as, indeed, is embodied by Zonama Sekot.”

Luke was reminded of his rigorous conversations with Vergere. “There’s one major difference between us: we accept that what doesn’t take the Force into consideration is false.”

Harrar shrugged. “What doesn’t take the gods into consideration is false. To us, you embody a dark power, seemingly as the Sith did to the
Jeedai
of old. And yet, if the Sith borrowed of the Force, much as you do, how then were they dark? Because they disagreed with your views?”

“The Sith sowed destruction and chaos in service to dark designs. They exercised absolute power to achieve their ends. They didn’t revere the Force; they had reverence only for the power it afforded them. They saw their way as the only way.”

“As the Yuuzhan Vong do,” Harrar said, “and you aver not to.”

“You worship pain,” Mara said.

Harrar shook his head. “If they could be persuaded to answer truthfully, Jacen and Tahiri would tell you otherwise. We accept that birth into life is pain because it is separation from the gods—or the Force, if you will. But since we would not exist without the gods and their sacrifice, we thank the gods by emulating them, and giving of ourselves in their name. Pain is our means of reuniting with Yun-Yuuzhan. We wonder why the gods created us, only to have us suffer all our lives in order to return to them. But this is unknowable. The creative cannot but create, and this is what the gods do. These things are beyond our understanding, and we accept them as being beyond our understanding. If our teachings are false, then they will pass away. Until that time, we must abide by them.”

“Perish by them, you mean,” Corran said.

“Perhaps. But this is all so much talk. I fear that the gods now look upon the Yuuzhan Vong with disfavor. I first realized this when Commander Kahlee Lah believed that Jaina
Solo had become an aspect of Yun-Harla, the Trickster. Then I watched Supreme Commander Czulkang Lah be taken in at Borleias by the so-called Operation Starlancer. And now tens of thousands of Shamed Ones have allowed themselves to be beguiled by a self-serving heretic …”