The Unifying Force (47 page)

Speechless, Han continued his survey of the wondrous ship. Small compared to
Jade Shadow
, which sat on its hard-stand nearby, the Sekotan fighter was equivalent to an X-wing in size, though it more closely resembled a vintage Surronian Conqueror or one of the latest generation of Mon Calamarian starfighters. The single-pilot cockpit was an all-too-organic shade of red—made more unnerving by an instrument array that pulsed and throbbed.

The gentle internal radiance of the tripartite fuselage was most intense along the forward edges, which were knife-sharp. In contrast, the trailing edges were rounded over, with the drive tucked into the space between the two rear lobes. Han had overheard Magister Jabitha tell Kyp that the original Sekotan ships had had Haor Chall type-seven
Silver-
class light starship engines, with expensive hyperdrive core units and organiform circuitry. But the ships the Jentari had built for the Jedi lacked a conventional drive—unless dovin basal analogs had come to be considered standard equipment.

The similarity to coralskippers didn’t end with gravitic propulsion devices and volcano-like weapons emplacements. Though it required the pilot who had bonded with its formative seed-partners, a Sekotan craft was
alive
and, to a degree, capable of independent action.

Han wasn’t the only person in awe. Working overtime, the
Jentari had been able to shape ships for all the Jedi who had participated in the recent ceremony. Delivered from the cybernetic assembly lines by huge manta-shaped dirigibles, the Sekotan fighters crowded the canyon-rim landing platform. None of them had been flown, but Han could feel the eagerness of the pilots—Kyp, Corran, Lowbacca, dark-complected Markre Medjev, facially scarred Waxarn Kel, the stocky Chandrilan woman Octa Ramis, slight Tam Azur-Jamin, gallant Kyle Katarn, the ever-brooding Zekk, the Barabel Saba Sebatyne, and the Twi’lek female Alema Rar—all of whom were circling their individual crafts, much as Han was circling Kyp’s.

“Well, she’s not the
Falcon,”
Han said, “but I’m sure she’ll do until the next
living
ship comes along.”

Kyp took his gaze from the ship long enough to glance at Han and laugh. “Wish I could tell you to take it for a spin.”

Han nodded. “Yeah, I wish you could, too.”

Distracted, Han wasn’t aware of Leia’s approach until she slipped her arm through his and rested her head against his shoulder. He turned slightly, expecting to see her smiling as broadly as he was. Instead, she was anything but joyful.

“What’s wrong?”

“Luke just heard from Booster. A Yuuzhan Vong battle group is headed here.”

Han stared at her. “I thought—”

It was all he got out before Luke, Mara, Jaina, Danni, Kenth, and some of the other Jedi arrived at the landing platform. The last to show up were Magister Jabitha, Jacen, and Harrar. The pilots hurried from their Sekotan ships to join the circle that quickly took shape around Luke.

“We were hoping for more time, but that’s not going to happen,” Luke began. “The Yuuzhan Vong are on the way, which means you’re going to have to get your ships airborne and give yourselves a crash course in piloting them.” He swung to face Tesar Sebatyne. “The shuttle will take you and the rest of the Wild Knights to your blastboat and fighters.”

Saba nodded to her son. “Good hunting, Tesar.”

“Now do I get to fly my X-wing?” Jaina asked.

Mara shot her a cautionary look. “We’ve been through this.”

“But—”

“May I say something?” Harrar said.

Everyone turned to him in surprise.

“Assuming some of you are going to Coruscant, your war party will benefit by having both Jaina Solo and Jacen Solo as comrades. Our warriors are very superstitious, and the sight of the celebrated Jedi twins—united—could demoralize them. The capture of one such as Jaina Solo would count for more than her death.” The priest paused to glance around. “Our forces failed at Borleias because Supreme Commander Czulkang Lah was fixated on capturing the Jedi who had come to be associated with Yun-Harla. It was my personal failing that I supported Czulkang Lah’s actions.”

Tahiri looked at Jaina. “At Borleias I told you not to accompany Luke and Mara to Coruscant, because I was afraid that your presence would endanger them. Now I agree with Harrar that you should go.”

Jaina folded her arms across her chest. “Nice to see that everyone is so comfortable with deciding my destiny.”

Jabitha stepped forward before anyone could respond. “Sekot has requested that Cilghal, Tekli, and Danni Quee remain on Zonama.”

Danni looked at Luke in stark confusion. “I thought I’d be going with you and Mara to Coruscant.”

Luke shook his head. “Sekot obviously feels that you’re needed here.”

“If I can accept not flying, then you can accept staying here,” Jaina said.

Han and Leia traded uneasy looks.

Luke took his lightsaber from his belt, ignited the blade, and held it over his head. Wordlessly, the other Jedi began to follow suit. Taking note of Leia’s hesitation, Han nodded in encouragement.

“Go,” he said quietly, “you’re as much a Jedi as any of them.”

The Jedi tightened up around Luke, angling their light-sabers slightly so that the tips pointed toward his, and in the end creating a stand of colorful blades that thrummed ominously in the crisp air.

“This day has been years in the making. What we do from this moment forward will test our fealty to the Force in a way that the Jedi haven’t been tested in more than a generation. Be mindful that we are not the purveyors of conflict and inequity, but the guardians of peace and justice. Above all, we want what the Force wants, no matter where that leads us. If some of us are not seen again today, that does not mean that our actions will have been in vain or will not be remembered.”

Han looked to those who didn’t have lightsabers—the few outside the circle: Jabitha, Harrar, and Danni—wondering where he fit in. But he added his voice to the rest when they said, as one,
“May the Force be with us!”

Scepter of Power grasped in his right hand and trailed by a cortege of eight slayers, Shimrra marched into the Hall of Convergence, his legs propelling him in such long strides that Onimi was compelled to run to keep up. Alerted to his approach, everyone present in the vaulted chamber—Nom Anor included—had already assumed attitudes of obeisance. The warriors were down on one knee, and the four seers had their heads inclined in reverent if apprehensive bows. The hall smelled strongly of sacrificial blood, yorik coral dust, and incense, and suddenly of floral scents as the Supreme Overlord’s bare feet crushed the flower petals that had been scattered for him.

Shimrra went directly to his ray-backed throne, but sat for only a moment before rising and beginning to pace back and forth, a confused Onimi following in the wake of the Supreme Overlord’s pliant flayed-skin robe.

“Why was I summoned from my meditation with the gods?” Shimrra demanded of no one in particular. “Is my role in our final campaign less than yours, Supreme Commander Laait?” He gazed balefully at the seers. “Or yours?”

Laait remained in genuflection. “Supreme One, the warmaster bade that I seek audience with you as soon as you would permit.”

“Is Warmaster Nas Choka’s inactivity such that he can find time to communicate with the likes of you?”

“Dread Lord, the warmaster had been anything but idle,” Laait said with a hint of exasperation. “Engaged at Muscave, his forces overwhelm those of our enemy. Thus was he able to dispatch to Zonama Sekot a task force that escorts and safeguards the ailing vessel that is our secret weapon.”

Shimrra made a fatigued sound. “I need to hear this from your mouth, Supreme Commander? Did I not just say that your urgent entreaty found me deep in rapport with the gods?”

Laait snapped his fists to his shoulders in salute. “I beg forgiveness, Great One. Then assuredly you already know that Zonama Sekot appeared to be undefended, save for a handful of enemy fighters.”

“Assuredly.”

“And that the task force commander dispatched coral-skippers to engage those fighters.”

“What of it?” Shimrra said heatedly. “Would you hold me prisoner here with your pointless statements?”

Again Laait snapped his fists. “Of course the gods told you, Lord, that the coralskippers have met with resistance from
living
vessels.”

Shimrra came to an abrupt halt and stared at the Supreme Commander.

“Dread Lord,” Onimi said, as if to prompt a response.

“Living vessels, you say,” Shimrra said finally.

Laait nodded in acknowledgment. “Vessels that not only match our coralskippers for size and speed, but also are propelled by gravitic affinity, and answer our plasma weapons with
theirs.”

Shimrra pointed to the hall’s villip-choir. “I would see an image of these living vessels!”

Supreme Commander Laait stood and beckoned to the villip mistress. Shortly a ghostly image appeared, showing a vessel forged of smooth rocks, dimpled with plasma launchers and dovin basal emplacements.

Canting his huge head, Shimrra regarded the glimmering image in silence.

“The domain commander reported to Warmaster Nas Choka that the living vessels have sown confusion among our ranks of coralskippers. Worse, the yammosk itself is perplexed. It is having trouble differentiating our vessels from the enemy vessels.”

Shimrra swung to Laait. “Why hasn’t the warmaster ordered the domain commander to bring his capital vessels to bear on Zonama Sekot?”

“The warmaster wishes to do just that, God-Chosen. He merely awaits your sanction for such an action.”

Shimrra said nothing.

“Great One?” Laait said carefully, after a long moment had passed.

“What do the
seers
say of all this?” Onimi interjected into the ensuing silence, as if deflecting attention from Shimrra.

“The auguries have left us troubled, Great Lord,” their haggish spokeswoman said. “The prospect of combating
living
vessels runs counter to the most sacred of our beliefs. Even as a test of our worthiness, the gods themselves would never have engineered such a sacrilege. We implore you, Lord, to explain how infidels have been allowed access to our biotechnology, and been granted sanction to create vessels that mimic ours.”

“There is more, Lord,” a second seer said. “Several enemy ships have outwitted our dovin basal voids and found their way to the surface of Yuuzhan’tar. Even now our primary landing field is threatened.”

Shimrra seemed to shake himself out of his daze. “Need I remind any of you that I have looked deeply into the eighth cortex, and conversed with Yun-Harla herself on these matters?”

The chief seer nodded. “We bear that in mind, Great One, and ask only for
elucidation
. Could the ancient prophecies and revelations be wrong? Could they have been misinterpreted? Is it possible that the gods have not engineered the living vessels as an additional test, but in fact have aligned themselves with the
Jeedai?”

Shimrra’s eyes flared like novas. “Heresy! Heresy—here in my very house!” He aimed the scepter at the seers. “You buffoons have outlived your usefulness.” He whirled to the slayers. “Rid me of them!”

A pair of slayers uncoiled their amphistaffs and advanced on the female quartet with deadly purpose. The seers offered no resistance, raising faces and extending their thin necks for the stiffened weapons. The slayers wasted no motions in decapitating them. One of the severed heads was still rolling across the floor when a herald entered the hall.

“Great Lord, High Priest Jakan, Master Shaper Qelah Kwaad, and High Prefect Drathul request audience.”

Shimrra went to his throne and sat. “By all means bid them enter, herald.”

The elite trio entered in a rush, but lost some of their momentum on seeing the four headless corpses.

Shimrra smiled faintly. “They had the audacity to doubt my interpretation of the revelation.” His expression darkened. “Be attentive to their present circumstance when you state your concerns.”

“We have no concerns, Dread Lord,” Drathul said, clearly improvising. “On learning of the warmaster’s report of living ships, we came to offer you praise for your foresight. The Yuuzhan Vong are escalated by the gods’ willingness to present us with even greater challenges.”

“You hastened here to tell me that?” Shimrra asked.

“One question, Lord,” Jakan said. “Have the gods furnished these ships to the Alliance, or do the ships originate from the living world itself?”

Shimrra gestured in an offhand way to Nom Anor. “Answer him, Prefect. Since you are our leading expert on Zonama Sekot.”

The object of Jakan and Qelah Kwaad’s astonishment, Nom Anor, slouched. Taken off his guard, he had to swallow to find his voice.

“Supreme One, I—I know only what I hear from spies among the heretics. But I—I suspect that there are no living ships.” He grew emboldened as he continued. “Instead, I propose that our coralskipper pilots have fallen victim to
Jeedai
mind tricks.”

Drathul gestured angrily to the villip-image of the living ship. “You dismiss that as a
Jeedai
mind trick?”

Shimrra grinned maniacally. “Answer your superior, Prefect Nom Anor.”

Nom Anor straightened his shoulders. “Why not? We know that they are capable of projecting false images and putting words in the mouths of those they would manipulate. We also know that they have successfully confused our yammosks in the past.”

Shimrra spoke before Drathul could argue the point. “Prefect Nom Anor is to be admired for his inventiveness. But, in fact, the vessel our villips show us is no mind trick. In answer to High Priest Jakan’s question, the gods have tutored the living planet in the creation of these monstrosities. But the
Jeedai
are not responsible.” He paused, then said, “It is the heretics who have brought this latest test upon us. The gods have no desire to award us this galaxy while heretics and Shamed Ones walk freely among us. They won’t permit us to deliver the poison vessel until we have brought
Yuuzhan’tar
into balance.”