The Unifying Force (25 page)

Nom Anor wasn’t sure if he should flee, throw himself on one of the slayers’ coufees, or crawl to Shimrra on his belly and beg forgiveness while there was still a chance. He glanced over his shoulder to see Drathul skewering him with a look of unmitigated hatred. The high prefect had said that he would hold Nom Anor accountable for any interference, and now Drathul was intent on making good his threat.

Pressed among the crowd, Nom Anor readied his venom-spitting eyeball. Drathul was already shouldering his way through the throng, brandishing his baton. Was Nom Anor going to have to kill another high prefect just to save his own neck?

Shimrra would have expected no less of him.

Drathul was almost within arm’s reach of Nom Anor when the Supreme Overlord’s voice rang out above the melee of droning thud bugs, snapping amphistaffs, and sizzling blaster-bolts, his huge head rising above those slayers that made up his living fence.

“High Prefect Drathul! No more of this shall we brook! At
this place is our patience and goodwill sundered!” Shimrra stood to his full and imposing height, towering over everyone. “I demand the heart of every Yuuzhan Vong who has aided and abetted the Prophet!”

Everyone in the vicinity was cowering, except for Nom Anor, because of how tightly he was wedged in place. Perhaps that was why he alone happened to be gazing past Shimrra when one of the slayers slipped away into the crowd. Except that the individual wasn’t a slayer. Master of disguise that he was, Nom Anor recognized that the deserter was wearing an ooglith masquer, which not only cloaked his appearance but also reshaped his body.

And from the way the slayer moved—with a somewhat trembling gait—the imposter could only be Onimi.

For the fourth and final microjump that would deliver them at last to Mon Calamari, Han and Leia had sealed off the cockpit and spent the entire time in each other’s arms, Leia on Han’s lap in the pilot’s chair, her arms around his neck. By the time the
Falcon
reverted to realspace Han was delirious, and Leia felt that, as safe corners went, the cockpit wasn’t too shabby—at least until they happened on the real thing.

Approaching the water world from well beyond its solitary moon, they were greeted by the sight of an enormous, perhaps unprecedented gathering of warships—a unified force of battle groups, flotillas, and fleets from all regions of the galaxy: Bothan, Bakuran, Imperial Remnant, and Chiss; Sullustan, Hapan, Eriaduan, and Hutt; Corellian and Mon Calamarian. In a glance they saw
Mediator-class
battle cruisers,
Belarus-class
cruisers, Lancer-class frigates, and Hapan Battle Dragons. They saw ensembles of Nova-class battle cruisers and Corellian gunships; reprovision flotillas of KDY Marlclass heavy freighters; attack groups of
Imperial II
-class Star Destroyers,
Republic-class
cruisers, and
Immobilizer-class
interdictors, their hemispherical gravity-well projectors accented by starlight.

There were
Ralroost, Right to Rule, Harbinger, Elegos A ’Kla, Mon Adapyne
, and
Mon Mothma;
the Super Star Destroyer
Guardian
, and the ancient Dreadnaught
Starsider
.

“You disappear for a couple of days,” Han said when he was past his initial astonishment, “and the kids turn the house into party central.”

Wordlessly he and Leia maneuvered the
Falcon
through corridors formed by the massive ships. The confined lanes were thick with starfighters and tenders. Ultimately they were requested to surrender control of the freighter to one of
Ralroost
’s tractor beams, which carried them gently into the cruiser’s immense starboard docking bay. A large crowd had turned out to welcome the
Falcon
home, and cheers and applause filled the scrubbed air as Han, Leia, and their roster of very influential people descended the boarding ramp.

Jaina rushed from the sidelines to hug her parents for dear life.

Han was nonplussed. “We’d’ve been here sooner, but we had to spend three days at sublight making repairs to the repairs.”

“I knew you were at Caluula,” she said, refusing to let go of him. “I should have listened to the Force and gone there.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Leia said, taking a moment to gaze at her daughter. “Has there been any further word from the station?”

“A courier arrived from Caluula yesterday,” Jaina said. “The station and the planet fell to the Yuuzhan Vong. Hundreds were taken captive and sent to Coruscant.”

“The sacrifice,” Han said.

Jaina nodded grimly and began to lead her parents away from the
Falcon
.

Han thought about Pash Cracken and the rest who had chosen to remain at Caluula—rescued only to be captured again. He was reminded of what had often happened at the beginning of the war, when countless refugees had been taken advantage of by pirates and Peace Brigaders.

“Is there news from Coruscant?” he asked.

Jaina nodded. “Good and bad—but you can hear for yourself. Admiral Kre’fey wants to bring you up to speed personally.”

“Give us a hint,” Leia said.

Jaina lowered her voice. “The Yuuzhan Vong have amassed an armada. We’re expecting them to strike us here.”

Han blew out his breath. “That explains all the ships.”

“Let’s just hope that wasn’t the good news,” Leia said.

Jaina talked nonstop for the several minutes it took them to ascend to
Ralroost
’s command deck and ride a skimmer to a conference cabin amidships. Han and Leia were disappointed to learn that the Jedi still hadn’t heard from Luke, Mara, Jacen, or the others. It wasn’t like them to remain out of contact for so long.

The white-furred Bothan admiral, Traest Kre’fey, rose from his chair at the head of the long conference table as Leia, Jaina, and Han were being escorted into the cabin space. His violet eyes took in Han and Leia, and he smiled broadly. “We were all starting to wonder if you’d decided to take unannounced leave.”

“Well, we have our own idea about what constitutes a vacation,” Han joked.

Leia managed to smile, but just barely.

By
all
, Kre’fey had meant the dozen high-ranking officers who were seated at the table. Defense Force Supreme Commander Sien Sovv; Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon; Generals Wedge Antilles, Garm Bel Iblis, Keyan Farlander, Carlist Rieekan, and Airen Cracken; Commodore Brand, Queen Mother and Jedi Knight Tenel Ka, and bulky Major General Eldo Davip—promoted as a result of his brave actions aboard the Star Destroyer
Lusankya
at the Battle of Borleias.

Han and Leia needed no introductions to any of them, but there were others they recognized only by species rather than name.

Han threw everyone a grin of greeting. Leia shook hands with Gilad Pellaeon and Keyan Farlander, kissed Wedge and Tenel Ka on both cheeks, then went to Airen Cracken, with whom she had spoken briefly from the
Falcon
.

“Pash was one of the officers captured at Caluula Orbital and taken to Coruscant,” Cracken said. “But I’m hoping for the best. No one knows Coruscant better than my son, and if anyone can escape, it’ll be him.”

Han, Leia, and Jaina found seats for themselves.

“Just to catch you up,” Kre’fey said, “the sacrifice ceremony took place as scheduled. But our agents report that before
anyone had been put to the coufee, there was an uprising by several hundred heretics. The heretics managed not only to interfere with the ceremony, but also to abscond with more than three hundred Alliance prisoners.”

“Just to spoil things for Shimrra?” Han asked.

“We’re not sure, at this point. But we have learned that an untold number of Shamed Ones have been rounded up in return, and are apparently going to be put to death. No Alliance personnel were among those seized, so presumably our people are being well hidden.”

“If they’re even alive,” Han said. “The Shamed Ones could have staged a sacrifice of their own, in honor of whatever deity they worship.” He glanced at Cracken. “Sorry, Airen, but I think it’s premature to consider these heretics as allies.”

“We agree,” Kre’fey said. “The possibility of a secret sacrifice or a hostage scenario cannot be ruled out. However, we have also learned the purpose of the original sacrifice was to ensure victory for the armada Shimrra plans to launch against Mon Calamari.”

Han and Leia pretended to be surprised by the news. “Do we know when or how they’re going to do this?” Leia asked.

Sovv spoke to the question. A Sullustan, he looked as if he were wearing a large-eared, heavy-jowled mask. “Intelligence has determined that the enemy plans to attack directly from the Perlemian Trade Route. Secondary salients will be launched from Toong’l and Caluula, both of which now host yammosks. There appears to be a twofold purpose for installing war coordinators on those worlds: first, to coordinate flanking attacks; and second, to provide rear-guard defense in the event the initial wave is repelled.”

Han glanced around the cabin. “How many Yuuzhan Vong vessels are we talking about?”

“On the order of five thousand,” Bel Iblis supplied flatly, the fingers of his left hand smoothing his drooping mustache.

Han sat away from the table in shock. “Then we haven’t a chance.”

“Not force against force,” Sovv said. “But we have high
confidence that the enemy has made a strategic blunder by opting to stage from remote worlds like Toong’l and Caluula.”

Bel Iblis nodded in agreement. “More important, we think we can take advantage of the fact the Yuuzhan Vong are expecting us to turn tail and scatter.”

Han regarded the inscrutable Sullustan and the gray-haired human. If there was any lingering bad blood between Sovv and Bel Iblis over what had occurred during the evacuation of Coruscant, there was no evidence of it now. In fact, everyone at the table appeared to have reached an accord.

“Why wouldn’t we be better off scattering our fleets?” he asked carefully. “We’ve enough ships to open dozens of new fronts.”

“And wage a war of rebel actions for the next ten years, while the enemy grows stronger?” Kre’fey said. “No. By scattering we would leave Mon Calamari open to assault, and we certainly don’t want to see happen here what happened on Coruscant. There is no more dangerous species than one that views killing as cleansing.” He gave his head a determined shake. “This must be our decisive step.”

“Without going into detail at this time,” Sovv said, “let me just add that we plan to give all appearances of being caught unawares by the armada, and of engaging it head-on. This alone will give the enemy pause. In fact, half our forces will have already relocated to Contruum, which has agreed to serve as our staging area—thanks to the efforts of General Cracken. We’re counting on Captain Page to prevail on the leaders of Corulag to do the same.”

Han shook his head in confusion. “Staging areas for what? The farther from Mon Calamari you place those fleets, the more trouble we’ll have communicating with them. And if you’re thinking of jumping them back to Mon Calamari by surprise, then maybe you need to be reminded of what happened to the Hapans at Fondor.”

Tenel Ka acknowledged Han’s remark with a veiled nod.

“Fondor was a special circumstance,” Commodore Brand said. “Our strategy would have worked if … In any case, it isn’t our intention to jump the fleets back to Mon Calamari.”

“What is your intention?” Leia asked.

Kre’fey cleared his throat meaningfully. “By devoting only half our battle groups to the defense of Mon Calamari, the remainder will be free to move against our primary target—Coruscant.”

Ruthless deeds return to harass their architect
, Nom Anor thought as he viewed the execution of the heretics.

The deaths were taking place not atop the yorik coral spire in the Place of Sacrifice, but in an area outside the sacred precinct, where many of Yuuzhan Vong beasts went to die, and warriors trained for combat. Once a sports arena in the district known as the Western Sea, it was now an ossuary—a boneyard—lush with swampy growth, rank with odors of decay, and the breeding ground for millions of meter-long yargh’un rodents. The bowl couldn’t hold many spectators, but Shimrra had ordered it filled to overflowing with bone stackers, workers, and low-echelon others, both as a blunt demonstration of his wrath, and as a warning to any who would follow the Prophet.

The doleful music of musicians went unappreciated.

The foodstuffs spread across the banquet tables for the elite went untouched.

The clawed beasts tasked with the executions snorted and bellowed.

This was not noble death but capital punishment.

It was three local days after the abortive sacrifice ceremony, and on orders passed down from Shimrra to High Prefect Drathul, and then on to Nom Anor, three thousand Shamed Ones had been gathered up—ten for every captive who had been liberated from the ceremony. What percentage of them were heretics made no difference, for this was an attempt to put an end to further enrollment—though Nom Anor felt that it might have precisely the opposite effect. Shimrra had sent warriors to purge Yuuzhan’tar’s underworld of heretics on previous occasions, but this was the first time
he had done so openly, and had turned the mass arrests into a macabre entertainment.

Some were saying that Shimrra had crossed a dangerous line—but only those who weren’t aware of the lengths to which Shimrra would go to maintain his authority, and the mental power he could bring to bear when necessary. No one privy to the methods Shimrra had used to attain the throne voiced any criticisms.

During the intergalactic journey, Shimrra—by dint of noble birth, prophecy, and divination—had been placed among a pool of candidates who might one day be eligible for consideration to succeed Supreme Overlord Quoreal on his death. All the nobles who comprised that small, privileged group had been raised as if they might one day rise to the throne. They were doted upon, fed the finest foods, trained in warfare and religion. They enjoyed every luxury. Though overseen by the high priests, the selection process was markedly similar to the way in which infant dhuryams were tested, to determine which was most capable and worthy of becoming a worldship or planetary brain.