The Unifying Force (66 page)

Squads of commandos were on foot patrol in all quarters, performing structure-to-structure searches and controlling looting by Coruscanti and Yuuzhan Vong alike. Heretics who had joined the resistance were acting as interpreters and wranglers of creatures capable of ferreting out spies and imposters wearing ooglith masquers. Enemy weapons were heaped at each corner, awaiting cremation by aged AT-AT walkers and flamethrowers. YVH droids rolled and crawled like tunnel rats through warrens exposed by massive demolition and excavation machines. Elsewhere, teams of specialists were busy erecting temporary communications facilities to uplink with satellites already in orbit.

Galactic Alliance flags had been raised at what was left of the truncated Citadel, on the yorik coral dome that capped the Well of the World Brain, and atop other captured landmarks, but fierce fighting persisted in some districts that were without villip communication and had yet to learn of Shimrra’s death. To complicate matters, the sacred precinct had been partitioned into more than a dozen occupation zones, each overseen by a different species. Everyone was working toward the common goal of pacification, but because of the
vast amounts of technology that lay buried under the thick vegetation, some claim-staking was inevitable.

Tinged with sadness and misgiving, Kre’fey’s gold-flecked eyes took everything in as the speeder rounded the mounds of debris and whizzed across the temporary bridges that spanned Coruscant’s abysmal canyons.

This is the prize we’re going to present to the Alliance members as a sign that life can now begin to return to normal?

The strangest sight he had seen—stranger than the groves of alien trees, the ngdins sopping spilled blood from the streets, the AT-ATs standing shoulder to shoulder with six-legged Yuuzhan Vong beasts—was Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon and six of his Imperial officers touring the area where the Imperial Palace had once stood.

Onetime enemies, now unequivocal allies.

Thousands of prisoners were being held at what the Yuuzhan Vong had called the Place of Bones, but thousands more had escaped into the wilderness the planet had become. On the other side of Coruscant, entire battalions were dug in. The commanders of those units were said to have vowed that they would fight to the last, and Kre’fey saw no reason to doubt them.

Questions and concerns tormented him. What was to be done with the heretics and the Shamed Ones; the noncom-batants and the children; the World Brain, the roving beasts, and the other biots? Several chief commanders were already advocating that Coruscant be defoliated entirely. Others wanted to preserve some of the planet’s new look. And still others wished to see the former galactic capital transformed into a kind of memorial, joining the ranks of Ithor, Barab I, New Plympto, and other worlds.

So despite the cheers and welcoming waves, Kre’fey didn’t feel like a liberator, much less a hero—at least not yet. The Bothan declaration of ar’krai—total war—meant just that, and his species was going to expect him to take the lead in pushing for extermination of the Yuuzhan Vong. But the Alliance’s chief commanders were hardly in accord on that matter. And now that a cease-fire seemed to be in effect, the politicians were eager to wrest control of the situation from
the military. Kre’fey had long thought of Chief of State Cal Omas as an honest and honorable human. But as well meaning as Omas was, he didn’t always see reason. It scarcely helped that his very influential Advisory Council included six Jedi, a Caamasi, and a Wookiee. With everyone weighing in, it could take months or even years to reach a consensus regarding a final solution to the long war …

The skimmer came to a rest in front of Alliance headquarters—an example of Old Republic–classic architecture that had been partly released from its mantle of vegetation by lasers and missles; trees were still rooted in the roof and vines dangled over the ornate columns and shattered window openings.

Kre’fey strode briskly past logistics officers and communications specialists, analysts and slicers, protocol and mouse droids. Ultimately his aides escorted him into a debris-filled room that was being readied for General Farlander. A holo-projector occupied the center of the cleared space, and in the blue cone emanating from the table stood half-sized holograms of Sien Sovv and Cal Omas. For much of the battle for Coruscant, elected officials had been on the move, in and out of hyperspace. But for the past four days, Omas and the others had taken refuge on Contruum.

“Congratulations, Admiral Kre’fey,” Omas said. “Thanks to you we have reclaimed our capital.”

“Such as it is,” Kre’fey said.

Sovv made a sound of agreement, then said: “Nevertheless, your efforts are appreciated by one and all. What is the situation there, Traest?”

“We’re on the verge of turning a hopeless situation into an impossible one.”

“Any change in the disposition of the enemy vessels?”

“None.”

“Any overtures by Nas Choka?”

Kre’fey forced an exhale. “Much of the fight has been bled from the spaceborne warriors, but we’ve received no word from Nas Choka. He recalled the dregs of his Muscave and Zonama Sekot flotillas, but has neither advanced on Coruscant nor withdrawn.”

“What do you suppose they’re waiting for, Traest?”

“They’ve never suffered a defeat—let alone had to deal with the sudden death of their Supreme Overlord. Normally there would have been a pool of candidates, one of whom would have been chosen by the priests and shapers to accede to the throne. The elite would have been guided by signs and portents, and any potential successor would have to have demonstrated certain abilities. But it’s all moot, because Shimrra apparently saw to it that no one was standing in the royal wings. With Shimrra and High Prefect Drathul dead, Nas Choka is the highest-ranking elite. But in fact he wields no more real power than High Priest Jakan and Master Shaper Qelah Kwaad, both of whom we have in custody. A scramble for power had broken out among some of the lesser prefects and consuls, but it’s unlikely that any of them will be officially recognized as an heir apparent. What’s more, the heretics, along with many of the Shamed Ones, seem to be looking to us for rescue, protection, even redemption of some sort.”

Sovv took a moment to absorb Kre’fey’s remarks. “Should Nas Choka break the cease-fire and advance, are our fleets in a position to prevail?”

“Probably,” Kre’fey said, “though at considerable cost.”

“Do you wish to press an attack?” Omas asked carefully.

Kre’fey shook his head. “Not at this point. Until this morning we had no means of communicating with Nas Choka. But we’ve finally been able to persuade the Supreme Commander of the enemy home fleet to act as our liaison with the warmaster, commencing with villip transmissions.”

“Would a full surrender be too much to hope for, Admiral?” Omas asked.

Kre’fey touched his face in a gesture of uncertainty. “As I say, sir, the Yuuzhan Vong have no protocols for surrender. They’re expecting us to behave as they would under similar circumstances, by executing most of them and enslaving the rest.”

Omas frowned. “All these years of fighting and they still don’t understand us.” He paused, then said, “Admiral, you face the daunting task of convincing your commanders that there is nothing to be gained by exterminating the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Kre’fey compressed his lips. “Sir, after the barbarity the
enemy has visited on us for five years, many local commanders won’t be willing to put aside vengeance for compassion. But perhaps some will, and in time others may follow. By the same token, it may prove impossible to convince the Yuuzhan Vong on occupied worlds to capitulate without a fight. Word of Shimrra’s death is being relayed by villip to planets throughout the invasion corridor. In several star systems the Yuuzhan Vong are already decamping. But we have our work cut out for us, regardless.”

“Zonama Sekot survived the battle?” Sovv said.

Kre’fey snorted. “I would say ‘triumphed.’ Though I failed to realize it at the time, the entire battle for Coruscant turned on that planet. If for whatever reason the Yuuzhan Vong hadn’t been so intent on destroying it … Well, let it suffice to say that we might not be having this conversation.”

“We’ve heard rumors,” Omas said, “that there was a second Supreme Overlord—a power behind the throne, as it were.”

Kre’fey nodded. “I’ve heard those same rumors. But they have yet to be corroborated by anyone.” “There’s also talk about a vessel contaminated with Alpha Red.”

“That happens to be fact, sir. The vessel was one that escaped from Caluula. The Yuuzhan Vong attempted but failed to deploy the bioweapon against Zonama Sekot. Allegedly it has been tractor-beamed into deep space. We have ships searching for it, if only to establish whether the toxin remains virulent.”

“Stay on that, Admiral,” Omas said.

Kre’fey nodded again. “Sir, assuming a surrender is forthcoming, have you chosen someone to negotiate the terms?”

“Many are urging me to solicit the assistance of the Jedi.”

Kre’fey’s face twisted. “Is that wise, sir, in light of Master Skywalker’s statement at Contruum that he would consider giving Coruscant to the Yuuzhan Vong if he thought that would end the war?”

Omas laughed shortly. “I never took Skywalker’s remark at face value. But we do need to reach a decision regarding Coruscant’s importance in the scheme of things. Perhaps the
fact that we reclaimed it will be sufficient to serve as a symbol of our unity.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Kre’fey said evenly, “we can’t allow the Yuuzhan Vong to keep even a square kilometer of Coruscant. Even if we can’t reoccupy the planet for a hundred years, Coruscant is essential to the stability of the Alliance. No species will rest comfortably with the Yuuzhan Vong imprisoned at the center of our galaxy. Coruscant must be seen as a symbol that not only have we prevailed, but also that the threat has passed, and order has been restored.”

“I concur, Admiral,” Omas replied in the same even tone, “but we’re going to have to do
something
with the Yuuzhan Vong—something more than disarm them and send them back into the intergalactic void.”

“I suspect that they would sooner fight to the death than return there,” Kre’fey said. “In any event, we haven’t ships enough to escort them from the galaxy.”

“Some have suggested imprisoning them aboard their own ships,” Sovv said.

Kre’fey grimaced. “The warriors, perhaps. But do we also imprison every female, every child, every Shamed One? Wouldn’t we be sentencing them to a lingering death rather than an expedient one?”

Omas heaved a sigh. “Those I trust to safeguard our financial health may not warm to the idea of spending trillions of credits to imprison warriors who are beyond being rehabilitated.”

Kre’fey turned slightly to face Omas’s image. “Sir, will you consider establishing a war crimes commission?”

“Such a commission is under consideration, Admiral. But who would you have us bring to trial?”

“We could begin with Nas Choka.”

Sovv shook his head. “We’re going to need him if we hope to subjugate the warrior caste. Try Nas Choka, and you will have that fight to the death.”

“I agree with Admiral Sovv,” Omas said. “Shimrra is dead, as are Tsavong Lah, Nom Anor, most of the Peace Brigade … More to the point, how do we separate the ‘war criminals’ from the religious zealots? Should we attempt to root out those commanders responsible for attacking refugee ships,
or perhaps those who were directly responsible for the deaths of hundreds of millions of hostages at Coruscant? They’re all guilty—the entire species. We may as well start with their
gods
if we’re going to initiate criminal proceedings.”

Kre’fey allowed the silence to linger for some time, then said, “Sir, we still have Alpha Red.”

Omas nodded solemnly. “I respect your courage in being the first to broach the subject, Admiral. But Alpha Red is no longer an option. Use of the bioweapon isn’t a decision one person, three, or even a hundred can make. I promise, however, to discuss all other matters with the members of my Advisory Council.”

Kre’fey swallowed hard. “May some wisdom accrue from it.”

If jubilant celebrations were taking place on many worlds, stars were the only lights in Zonama Sekot’s night sky, and by day only the remote disk that was the Coruscant system’s primary.

“It’s getting colder,” Luke said, as he and Harrar followed Jacen through the boras. “Most of the energy Sekot dedicated to keeping the planet warm was diverted to the mountaintop defenses. Zonama can’t remain in this orbit for much longer—not without risk to the forests.”

“Perhaps that’s what Sekot wishes to discuss,” Harrar said. “Inserting Zonama into a more nourishing orbit.”

Jacen glanced over his shoulder at the priest. “We’ll know soon enough. The reflecting pool isn’t much farther.”

Jacen had mentioned the pool several times, though Luke had never been there and was eager to see it. The suggestion to assemble at the pool had been Sekot’s, relayed through Magister Jabitha, who had visited Luke in his and Mara’s cliffside dwelling.

Luke felt as if he had done little more than sleep since arriving on Zonama Sekot a week earlier in the
Millennium Falcon
. While Jacen had been successful at neutralizing most of the venom delivered by Shimrra’s amphistaff, Luke knew that he was not yet completely healed, and might never be. His body was gaining strength daily, and he was able to keep up with his nephew and Harrar on the undulating path,
but his physiology had been altered by the venom, and he was compelled to draw subtly on the Force to sustain himself. Perhaps it would just be a matter of time until his body dealt with the vestiges of the venom, but he suspected that the damage had been done in the first instance of his being pierced by the serpentlike weapon. As had been the case with Mara, healing tears could only do so much. He realized that the battle in Shimrra’s bunker had brought him very close to the dark side, whose venom was every bit as potent as that of the royal amphistaff. But he had no regrets about having skirted that razor’s edge, and knew in his heart that he would have walked even closer to the edge to safeguard Jacen or Jaina.