The Unifying Force (62 page)

He’s seeing me through the Force!
she told herself. As much as the realization shocked and confused her, it gave her hope.

“Even now I can see the glow of the divine in you, Yun-Harla. As Yun-Yammka glows in the
Jeedai
called Skywalker; Yun-Shuno in the
Jeedai
called Jacen; Yun-Ne’Shel in the Jedi called Tahiri …”

Onimi allowed his words to trail off, and grew introspective. When he looked at Jaina again, his lolling eye was narrowed, as if in amusement.

“Shimrra is dead,” he announced. “Your god-cohorts have killed him, Yun-Harla. Now let us hope they will pursue me, as well. Then not only will I have the satisfaction of outwitting you at Zonama Sekot, but I will also have the pleasure of killing you, as my first act in exterminating everyone and everything in this foul galaxy.”

Arms draped over Mara’s and Kenth’s shoulders, Luke was carried out of the Hall of Confluence through the warrior’s membrane, then down the corridor that led to the Citadel’s south entrance, where a temporary bridge linked the fortresses to the public square in which the scraped,
scratched, and dented
Millennium Falcon
sat on her hard-stand. Heading for the freighter, Harrar, Tahiri, and Captain Page walked point through groups of nonplussed Shamed Ones. Elsewhere squads of commandos, resistance fighters, and YVH droids were disarming captured elites, warriors, and the few reptoid slave-troops that had survived the assault. To all sides rose piles of coufees, tactical villips, and crab armor. Three hundred amphistaffs were stacked like firewood.

Smoke was drifting across the sacred precinct and the sky was a patchwork of contrails and missile tracks, but the area surrounding the Citadel had been secured. On the far side of the square, huge armored beasts were resting quiescently.

Cakhmaim, Meewalh, C-3PO, and R2-D2 were waiting at the foot of the
Falcon
’s landing ramp. On seeing Luke—chin resting on his chest and booted feet dragging behind him—the astromech mewled plaintively.

“Master Luke has been wounded!” C-3PO cried in distress. “Someone call for a medic!”

Mara and Kenth lowered Luke to the paving stones to check his status. “Force trance,” Mara said. “He’s trying to heal himself.” Turning to the Noghri and the droids, she told them to get the
Falcon
primed for launch.

No sooner had the four disappeared than Jag Fel pushed his way through the crowd and hurried forward.

“Where’s Jaina?” he asked no one in particular.

“Somewhere inside with Jacen,” Kenth said. “Han, Leia, and Nom Anor are looking for them.”

Jag put his hand to his brow and gazed up the summit. “I’m going in,” he said.

He hadn’t moved before Mara stretched out her arm to restrain him. “No, you’re not, flyboy. We don’t know what’s going on in there. We’ve got to get Luke to one of the hospital frigates, so if you want to help, the
Falcon
could use an escort.”

Jag looked from Luke to Mara and nodded. “I’ll bring my starfighter around.”

As Jag ran off, Harrar turned to face the knot of elite captives. At the front, High Priest Jakan and Master Shaper Qelah Kwaad were being restrained by the Yuuzhan Vong
warriors who had defected to the side of the heretics—if not the side of the Alliance.

“Supreme Overlord Shimrra is dead,” Harrar said in a morose voice.

The announcement met with shouts of celebration from the Shamed Ones and bellows of dismay from the captives. Shocked and demoralized, many of the priests fell to their knees and began to mutter incantations and prayers. Genuflecting, the weaponless warriors snapped their fists to their opposite shoulders and lifted their blood-smeared faces to their captors in unabashed pride.

“Congratulations,
Jeedai,”
Jakan said to Mara, Kenth, and Tahiri while the heretics were chanting for Yu’shaa, the Prophet. “You have brought down our civilization.”

Mara answered for the three. “As you intended to do to ours.”

Harrar looked at Jakan. “It wasn’t the
Jeedai
. It was the gods themselves.”

Kenth glanced at Harrar. “What’s going to happen when Nas Choka learns of Shimrra’s death?”

The priest shook his head in uncertainty. “The sudden death of a Supreme Overlord is … unprecedented.”

Mara and Kenth raised Luke and began to move him into the ship. They had just stepped onto the ramp when someone among the heretic contingent called out to them. Harrar’s gaze found the male Shamed One who had spoken.

“He says that, if you would allow it, he can prolong Master Skywalker’s life. There exists no antidote to effect a complete cure.”

“Is it true?” Mara asked, disconsolately.

Harrar squinted at the heretic. “That one is a former shaper. He’ll be of more benefit to Master Skywalker than I can be—perhaps of more benefit than bacta.”

Jakan began to denounce the shaper who had volunteered. Harrar translated for Mara and Kenth. “The high priest says, ‘You’re ready to discard your beliefs like a worn-out robeskin, over a mere military victory.’ ” Harrar listened to the heretic’s reply. “The Shamed One answers, ‘Only those beliefs that supported this war.’ ”

Jakan wasn’t through. Harrar heard him out, then said:
“The high priest says that he hopes to hear the Shamed One repeat his words when the Alliance finds him guilty of war crimes, and a machine intelligence is charged with executing him.”

The former shaper heaved his shoulders in a sad shrug. Harrar’s voice broke as he translated. “The Shamed One says that death will be a far better place than any he has known on Yuuzhan’tar.”

Without warning, the ground started to shake. For a moment Mara thought that the
Falcon
’s repulsorlifts were the cause; then she realized that the Citadel was the source. Frightened faces raised to the worldship fortress, the heretics began to retreat to the far side of the square, where the great beasts were on their feet and lowing in fear. As the shaking grew more violent, cracks formed in the facade of the Citadel and huge hunks of yorik coral began to avalanche down its sheer sides. Paving stones under the
Falcon
heaved, then sank, dropping the starboard landing gear disk a meter into the fractured ground. Anakin’s lightsaber slipped from Tahiri’s grasp and rolled into a crevasse. She tried to call the light-saber to her, but it had fallen too far.

“Leave it!” Mara said sharply, when Tahiri almost scrambled after it.

A rending sound thundered through the air. Then the bullet-shaped crown of the holy mountain slowly separated from the base and lifted into the sky.

Steadying herself and Luke on the
Falcon
’s trembling ramp, Mara whirled to Tahiri. “Jaina and Jacen are in terrible danger.” Her features warped by sudden anguish, she glanced at Luke, then at Kenth. “We’re not letting that ship get away.”

Jacen was halfway up the ladder-stairway that led finally to the command chamber when he realized that the escape vessel had parted with the worldship Citadel. While the liftoff came as no surprise, it couldn’t account for the mix of emotions that began to whirl through him. Shimrra’s familiar wasn’t only lifting them out of the battle—away from roiling Coruscant, out of reach of his parents and many of his fellow Jedi. It was as if he were also launching them outside space and time, into a separate engagement.

Jacen kept climbing. On reaching the last few high-risered stairs, he leapt through the well and landed in a defensive crouch on the deck of the vessel’s immense bridge. Shimrra’s familiar stood opposite him, his disfigured body listed to one side, his twisted hands waving commands at the throbbing control console. Jaina hung between them, suspended a meter above the deck by horns of yorik coral that protruded from the inner bulkhead, surrounded by intricately rendered religious statues. Jacen perceived that she was paralyzed but conscious; warmly alive amid the cold yorik coral and bone of the bridge.

She touched him through the Force, her voice little more than a whisper, but clear enough for him to grasp that the Shamed One’s name was Onimi. Khalee and Tsavong Lah had been set on pitting Jaina and Jacen against each other in battle. Onimi wanted nothing more than to kill them.

He was observing Jacen from across the bridge, even while guiding the vessel through the tattered sky.
Willing
it through the tattered sky, Jacen realized. Directing it the way a yammosk might.

“You will find no integrity in me,
Jeedai,”
Onimi said in Basic, as if mimicking something Vergere had told Jacen when he was in the Embrace of Pain. “Trust that everything you perceive about me is a lie.”

Jacen realized the truth.
Onimi
had overseen the warriors in the throne room below.
Onimi
, not the dhuryam, had been responsible for the quakes that had nearly toppled the Citadel—

“Shimrra was Shimrra,” Onimi said, anticipating Jacen’s next thought. “I am I.”

“The Supreme Overlord,” Jacen said.

As the realization deepened, he recognized that his Vongsense was allowing him to see Onimi in a profound way. Onimi was open to him, and in an instant Jacen understood how the Shamed One, a former shaper, had attained such power. But even Onimi didn’t understand that through his experiments he had also found a way to reverse the damage that had been done in the distant past to the Yuuzhan Vong.

He had regained the Force!

“Vergere told Nom Anor that you are the most dangerous
Jeedai
of all,” Onimi said. “And well you should be, since you carry Yun-Shuno within you—the betrayer of all I have sought to create. But soon, when I have killed you, you will be my passage to godhood. All you hold dear will have been destroyed. The species that gave you its blood and died to bring you worshipers. Most of all, the living world you returned from the Unknown Regions. Even now it anticipates its own death. It gasps for breath. Can you feel it? Our vessels are plunging through the shields you tried to create, coming closer and closer to the surface. The consciousness of that world is crying out that you have failed to protect it!

“How is this so? you ask yourself. How did it come to this? Because your military created a poison that was to kill my people, and instead I have sent it back to kill the very world you persuaded to join you in the fight against us. Is there not in that the hand of a new god,
Jeedai
Yun-Shuno? Where is your precious
Force
now—the lingering exhalations of Yun-Yuuzhan—that this has been allowed to happen?”

Jacen understood that Onimi was referring to Alpha Red. The toxin had to have arrived on the vessel that had escaped Caluula. He reached out for Sekot, but the voice of Zonama’s planetary consciousness was indistinct. Something had changed. Was Sekot deliberately concealing its presence from him or—

Jacen experienced a moment of insight. He could see Onimi through the Force. Was it possible that he would be able to find Sekot through his
Vongsense?

Again he reached out, touching Sekot this time, and the astonishing truth struck him like lightning.

Why hadn’t he seen it earlier?

But there was no time to dwell on it.

Onimi was eager to train his awesome powers on Jacen, and to do that he had no need for an amphistaff or coufee. He was capable of manufacturing paralytic agents and lethal poisons. And in the same way the World Brain oversaw Coruscant, Onimi controlled the environment of the living vessel, and could turn any or all parts of it against Jacen.

Jacen realized that he was about to engage in a battle that
would be decided not by knowledge of the Force, so much as fealty to its will. This was not a duel, but a relinquishment.

Once more he heard the voice of the vision he had had on Duro:
Stand firm …

His heart told him that it was the voice of his grandfather, Anakin Skywalker.

Lando’s urgent comlink transmission from
Errant Venture
found Wedge in the chaotic situation room of
Mon Mothma
, where a holographic image of Zonama Sekot rotated slowly in a cone of blue light, and bezels of various colors showed the deployment of Alliance and Yuuzhan Vong vessels. Technicians and droids were busy at every duty station, and the scrubbed air was filled with the din of voices and the incessant toning of damage- and threat-assessment screens. In the thick of the fighting, enemy mataloks and yorik-vec were blinking out at the rate of one every five minutes, but closer to the living planet, coralskippers and yorik-akaga had swept through portions of the Hapan line and were strafing the boras and inhabited canyons of the Middle Distance. With Zonama’s mountaintop defenses either incapacitated or determined to be ineffective against the small craft,
Mon Mothma
was speeding for the planet.

Separate conversations among the tactical officers surrounding the holoprojector table made it impossible for Wedge to hear Lando clearly, so he moved to a corner of the vast room and slipped a headset over his ears.

“The battle at Muscave was nothing more than a diversion,” Lando was saying. “Nas Choka was hoping to keep us too occupied to notice the poisoned vessel he’s trying to get to the surface of Zonama Sekot.” He snorted. “One small ship, slipping past all the defenses. Does that sound familiar?”

“Vaguely,” Wedge lied. “Do you have information on why the Jedi fighters have gone to ground?”

“Negative.”

“Could the Vong have already delivered the Alpha Red?”

“That’s as good a guess as any,” Lando said. “Unless Sekot’s decided to surrender.”

“If that’s the case, then it’s grown weaker over the past fifty years.”

“Or the Vong have gotten stronger,” Lando paused, then said: “Booster’s going to take
Errant Venture
as close to Zonama Sekot as possible. We’ll evacuate as many of the Jedi and the Ferroans as we can.”

Wedge grimaced. “Lando, you can’t do that if the planet’s already been poisoned. I realize Alpha Red probably doesn’t pose a threat to humans or Bothans, but, after Caluula, we can’t be sure that it can’t be spread by other species.”

Lando was silent for a long moment. “Understood, Wedge,” he said in a resigned voice. “We’ll check with Kyp and Corran before we lift anyone up the well. What do you hear from Coruscant?”