The Unifying Force (37 page)

Han relaxed, and Kyp let him go. “So if Alpha Red failed, then
we’d
be on hand to make sure the yammosk was killed.”

Wraw shrugged again. “Director Scaur is big on redundancy. But, yes, he wanted to be confident that the yammosk would die one way or the other.”

“You knew all along,” Leia said to Wraw. “The patrol we ambushed, the crashed coralskipper …”

“I’ll admit that I was encouraged by what I saw.”

Han sneered. “You’re no better than the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Wraw’s fur rippled again. “You said you wanted to teach me the ways of the world. Well, maybe it’s you who needs the lesson. What we did here was necessary.” He pointed toward the ceiling. “That shaper and her special warriors are going to take Alpha Red to Yuuzhan’tar, and from there it’s going to spread to other occupied worlds up and down the invasion corridor. So instead of ranting at me, Solo, you should be taking heart. The Vong’s day are numbered. The war is essentially
over.”

“You killed them,” Meloque mumbled, then yanked herself from her musings in wide-eyed panic to glare at Wraw.
“You
killed the winged-stars!”

Wraw swallowed hard. “You don’t know that.”

She collapsed to her knees to the spongy floor, as if her legs had turned to gel. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done—what you’ve unleashed? The effects of Alpha Red aren’t confined to the Yuuzhan Vong! Your superiors want assurance? Tell them that Alpha Red has surpassed everyone’s expectations, Agent Wraw. Sentient and nonsentient life is
also susceptible. If those Yuuzhan Vong craft reach Coruscant, the entire galaxy could be at risk!”

“What craft?” Lando asked. “What’s she talking about?”

“A couple of enemy vessels went up the well just before you arrived,” Page said.

Karrde whipped his comlink from his belt and activated the call button. “Crev, are you receiving me?”

“Just barely, Talon,” a deep male voice answered after several moments of static. “What’s your status?”

“I’ll tell you later, Crev. Right now, you’ve got to alert Booster’s gunners to destroy every Yuuzhan Vong ship in the area.”

Crev Bombossa laughed. “What’d you think we’ve been doing? Not that there’s been a whole lot of targets.”

“Thank the Force,” Meloque said quietly.

“Only one ship got past us,” Bombossa continued. “A corvette analog like nothing we’ve ever seen. Scaled, with three pairs of pincer-arm rock spitters and an uplifted stern.”

Han looked at Leia. “The skips that chased us to Caluula. They must have been grown for the slayers.”

Han’s alarm was enough for Talon. His hand tightened on the comlink. “Crev, tell me you’ve still got that vessel in your sights!”

“Hang on, Talon.”

Everyone fell silent, waiting through several more moments of static; then Crev’s voice returned.

“Talon, sorry to report that the craft jumped to hyperspace before we could nail it.”

Meloque put her face in her hands and began to sob.

Han worked his jaw in anger and dismay. “Our only hope is that the crew dies before that ship reverts to realspace.”

On the bridge of the Bothan Assault Cruiser
Ralroost
, Admiral Kre’fey swiveled the command chair away from the observation bay to listen to an update from the comm officer. Local space was strewn with warships, but untroubled. Blue Mon Calamari turned calmly below.

“Elements of the Second and Third Fleets have repositioned to Mon Eron,” the human officer said. “Grand Admiral
Pellaeon reports that
Right to Rule
is under way to complement defenses there. Also, two Hapan battle groups have arrived from Iceberg Three to reinforce Mon Calamari home defense forces. We should have visual contact with them at any moment, sir.”

Kre’fey glanced out the observation bay.
Ralroost
, along with the Star Destroyer
Rebel Dream
and the cruiser
Yald
, had relocated to Mon Calamari’s moon, in preparation for meeting the advancing armada head-on. With the Yuuzhan Vong moving toward Sep Elopor, the confrontation was hours or perhaps days away, depending on Nas Choka’s strategy. But now the inhabited world of Mon Eron, fifth in the system, was in jeopardy. The system’s fourth and third planets were on the far side of the sun.

With the unexpected departure of almost half the enemy armada, some semblance of parity had been established. But with equivalence had come renewed ferocity, and, given the mounting casualties, the Alliance was faring worse than it had at the start of the battle. Scanners displayed the heavily damaged frigates and pickets emptying their arsenals at the Yuuzhan Vong, and starfighters with wings blown off adding what they could to the fight. For every starfighter lost, three or four coralskippers disappeared from the theater. But the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to have a near-limitless supply of the small craft, and as fast as a tentacle was decimated, it was refreshed by flights of skips avalanched from the dusky innards of enemy carriers and brought into quick formation by however many yammosks flew at the core.

“Do we have news on the secondary flotilla?” Kre’fey asked.

“Not yet, sir. To the best of our knowledge, the flotilla is still traveling Coreward along the Perlemian.”

Sien Sovv, Commodore Brand, and other commanders were still adjusting to the fact that the separated cluster had departed by the same route the Yuuzhan Vong had taken to reach Mon Calamari. It was obvious now that the Yuuzhan Vong had no intention of using Toong’l or Caluula as fallback or staging positions.

Both planets had been diversions.

Kre’fey berated himself for not having realized that the Alliance had been deceived when the armada hadn’t jumped directly to the Mon Calamari system. Warmaster Nas Choka simply wanted to clear the transit points of mines, so that on withdrawal the secondary flotilla could attack the transceiving ships with impunity.

But where was the flotilla bound now?

Surely Nas Choka couldn’t have learned about Coruscant. Was it possible that he had learned of the Alpha Red experiment on Caluula?

No
, Kre’fey told himself.

If the warmaster had had an inkling about Corsucant, why wouldn’t he have left the secondary flotilla there, instead of bringing it halfway across the galaxy only to send it back home? More worrisome was the possibility that the warmaster had learned about Contruum. At the first indication of the flotilla’s intent to jump, courier ships had been dispatched to the Mid Rim world, and alerts had been sent via transceiving ships strung between Mon Calamari and Kashyyyk, and Kashyyyk and the Hapes Cluster.

“Admiral, incoming communiqué from Kashyyyk relay,” the human officer said, pressing his headphones tighter to his ears. “Sir, General Cracken and Commanders Farlander and Davip say that, with the whereabouts of the secondary flotilla unknown, the situation at Contruum has become unstable. Two Eriaduan task forces have already abandoned the fleet. The feeling among many of the other commanders is that everyone would be better living to fight another day, rather than risk jumping to Coruscant only to be trapped between the planetary defenses and the returning flotilla. With all due respect, Contruum command requests permission to move their fleet to Mon Calamari Extreme, and attack the armada from there.”

“Negative,” Kre’fey said, without having to think about it. Positioning his headset mike close to his mouth, he motioned for the communications officer to open an additional channel to Kashyyyk relay. “Until the secondary flotilla reverts from hyperspace, there’s no telling what the plan is. Those ships could simply be lying in wait, hoping for you to show up here so they can place
you
between them and the armada.
But as for Coruscant, I agree with your assessment, and hereby advise that you scatter the fleet, on the off chance that Contruum is the flotilla’s destination. Coruscant can wait for another day. It’s Mon Calamari that’s at stake now.”

“Contruum command requests an update on the situation at Mon Calamari,” a female voice at the other end of the transmission said.

“We’re holding our own,” Kre’fey said bluntly. “But I don’t know for how much longer. We’re still outnumbered, and the enemy is not falling for the usual tricks. It’s as even a match as I’ve seen this entire war. The only difference is that Warmaster Nas Choka is prepared to battle to the last, where I am not—and he knows that. He would sooner lose every ship than return to Coruscant in disgrace. I, on the other hand, have to decide when it becomes more prudent to be careful than foolishly brave.”

“Admiral,” the female voice said a long moment later, “Commander Farlander says that he regrets that he is not there to help you make that decision.”

Kre’fey grunted. “If it comes to opting for caution, we will adhere to our contingency plan to jump the fleets Rimward of Kubindi. We’re a lot more familiar with the hyperlanes in the spiral arm than Nas Choka is.”

The response was even longer in arriving.

“Should it come to that, Admiral, are the Yuuzhan Vong likely to press the attack against Mon Calamari in your absence?”

“There’s simply no telling. We’ll have to trust that their cell of spies on Mon Calamari reported that Alliance leadership has been evacuated, and that the planet is of no strategic value. Nas Choka doesn’t strike me as someone who would kill an animal once it has showed its belly—which is essentially what we’ll be doing. That he managed to chase us off will be sufficient reason for him to claim victory and retain his honor. It’s what he hoped we would do from the start—retreat and be chased.”

“Admiral!” the communications officer interrupted.

Following the officer’s lead, Kre’fey swiveled to the longdistance scanner display—and couldn’t believe his eyes.

The armada was tucking in its tentacles—recalling its legions of coralskippers, pickets, and frigates to their carriers.

“Enemy is preparing to jump to hyperspace,” a Bothan officer said from his duty station on the port side of the elliptical bridge.

Kre’fey came half out of the command chair in expectancy. “Order all starfighter wings to withdraw from engagement,” he shouted. “Home defense capital ships and Golan Defense Platforms will cease fire and divert all power to forward particle shields! Instruct General Antilles that
Mon Mothma
should join
Dauntless
at moon bright side.”

“The armada has jumped to lightspeed,” the Bothan updated. “Bearing … Coreward.”

Kre’fey dropped back into the command chair as if he had gained fifty kilos. “I don’t understand,” he muttered, with equal measures of relief and agitation.

Even if Nas Choka knew about Coruscant or Contruum, Intelligence would have assured him that the secondary flotilla by itself included more than enough vessels to thwart an attack. And why jump now, with the battle at Mon Calamari continuing to turn in the Yuuzhan Vong’s favor?

It could only be another deception.

He turned to the communications officer. “Send word to all warship and planet-based transceivers that the entire armada is now on the move. I want immediate reports on
any
reversions to realspace.”

The communications officer hurried for the comm board.

Mystified, Kre’fey sat staring out into space.

What in the galaxy just happened?

With the armada engaged in a climactic battle at the distant world of Mon Calamari, there was little for the occupants of Yuuzhan’tar to do but await word of the outcome—even for a prefect who had already contributed some of his own blood to ensure victory and who wasn’t inclined to fraternize with the commoners gathered in prayer at the various temples. Instead, Nom Anor had opted for an afternoon nap. But he had barely shut his eyes when his cushioned sleeping pallet began to shake, with such increasing force that it was bucking across the room when he was finally tipped from it and sent sprawling onto the floor.

Overhead, cracks and fissures were spreading across the domed ceiling and down into the walls. Yorik coral dust swirled in the light and rained down on the vurruk carpets, and from elsewhere in the prefectory came screams of pain and panic. A rumble built deep underground and rolled like a wave underfoot, sending objects near and far crashing.

Dodging an overturned sclipune—a chest of keepsakes—then a toppling lambent stand, Nom Anor crawled frantically for the ledgelike balcony that overlooked the Place of Hierarchy. Everything outside was in motion, shuddering and crumbling, and the quality of the afternoon light was changing, as if fading to twilight. Groups of workers were rushing from the portals of the structures that surrounded the quadrangle. In a deranged herd they ran, stumbling and staggering, for the tree-lined paths that wound through the public space.

Kneeling, Nom Anor shielded his eyes and gazed toward the sun. But it wasn’t Yuuzhan’tar’s primary that had everyone in a panic. It was the crescent of planet that took up an
enormous portion of the lower sky. Even as he watched, the green arc thinned as it advanced visibly on the star. It was impossible to judge the planet’s distance or true size, but it was twice as large as the shining orb it seemed intent on driving from the sky.

And it suddenly struck Nom Anor that the rainbow bridge had
vanished!

Clasping his hands on the balcony balustrade, he hauled himself to his feet. Across the quadrangle the facade of a structure collapsed, burying hundreds of Yuuzhan Vong under jagged chunks of yorik coral. Then a harsh and terrible wind blew in, uprooting trees and toppling statues. The wind filled the air with so much grit that the permacrete bones of many a New Republic building and spacescraper were laid bare.

A roar raced through the sky, and a crevice split the ground, running diagonally through the quadrangle. Benches, shrubs, and a throng of hapless workers plummeted into the yawning opening. Swarms of sacbees liberated from their hives spiraled into the crazed sky. Thousands of birds were already on the wing—but not flying so much as being blown to wherever the howling wind was taking them and everything it had ripped from the surface.

Nom Anor planted his feet wide and stared into the sky while the gale tugged at his tunic and tore tears from his eyes.