The Unifying Force Page 6

"Good to see you again, Wedge," Han said. "Any word from on

  high?"

  "Only that Admiral Sow sends his gratitude for what you and

  Leia have done."

  "Nice to know that we're all still on the same team." Han threw Wedge a wink, and turned to Kenth Hamner, who was wearing the homespun brown robe of a Jedi. "New look for you, isn't it?"

  Kenth allowed a grin. "Formal attire. A show of solidarity between the Jedi and the Galactic Alliance military."

  "Times change."

  "That they do."

  "Kenth, any communication from Luke?" Leia asked with some

  urgency.

  "Nothing."

  Leia frowned. "It's been more than two months now." Kenth nodded. "And nothing from Corran or Tahiri, either." Leia studied him for a moment. "What could have happened?" Kenth tightened his lips and shook his head slowly. "We have to assume that they're still in the Unknown Regions. We'd know if something went wrong."

  Han grasped that Kenth's we was meant to include Leia. Since before the fall of Coruscant, the Jedi—and Leia by extension—had honed their abilities to stretch out with thoughts and feelings; to meld minds and intuit at great distances.

  "We're considering dispatching a search party," Kenth added. Like Han and Wedge, the tall and pleasant-looking Jedi was Corellian, though unlike them he was an heir to wealth. Han had always considered him the most military-minded Jedi—Keyan Far-lander and Kyle Katarn notwithstanding—and a year earlier Kenth had been named to Chief of State Cal Omas's Advisory Council, along with Jedi Masters Luke, Kyp Durron, Cilghal, Tresina Lobi, and Jedi Knight Saba Sebatyne.

  Luke had placed Kenth in charge of the Jedi when he, Mara, and several others had embarked on a quest for the living world of Zonama Sekot. Since then Kenth had done his best to coordinate missions for the Jedi in Luke's absence, but as was true with Alliance command his best efforts had been undermined by the Yuuzhan Vong's unexpected success in disabling the HoloNet, which had long been the basis of galactic communications.

  "You'd better be organizing a large party if you're intending to search the Unknown Regions," Han said.

  Kenth found no humor in the remark. "We were able to obtain origin coordinates of the transmission Luke and Mara relayed through the Esfandia beacon."

  "And?" Leia said.

  "We've been transmitting to those coordinates for the past couple of weeks—without response."

  With the Generis communications array destroyed by the Yuuzhan Vong, Esfandia was the only beacon capable of reaching Chiss space and the Unknown Regions. Two months earlier a desperate battle had been fought at Esfandia, but the beacon had been saved, thanks in large part to Grand Admiral Gilad Pellaeon's Imperial forces—with a helping hand from the able crew of Millennium Falcon.

  "Maybe Zonama Sekot's moved," Han said. "I mean, that is what it's known for."

  Kenth rocked his head in purposeful evasion. "Among other things."

  Leia looked hard at him. "Could Zonama Sekot be returning to known space?"

  "We can hope."

  The four of them fell silent for a long moment. Wedge gave Han a covert glance, then heaved his shoulders in a shrug. When they had all climbed into the speeder, Wedge, in the front seat, turned to Leia and Han.

  "Tell me about Selvaris."

  "Not much to tell," Han said. "The escapees signaled us, we flew down and managed to rescue one of them."

  Wedge looked to Leia for elaboration.

  She blinked and smiled. "Just like he said. It was that simple." Han leaned forward in a gesture of confidence. "What's all this about, Wedge? Not that we ever need an excuse to rescue anyone, but why from Selvaris of all worlds? Most people I know couldn't point it

  out on a star chart."

  Wedge's expression turned serious. "I've got a special stake in

  this, Han."

  Han's forehead wrinkled in interest. "How so?"

  "You can hear for yourselves. General Cracken has requested that you attend the debriefing."

  At the turbolift, Leia and the three Corellians caught up with the medical team that was escorting Thorsh. The Jenet and the meds exited three levels down. Leia and the others rode to the bottom on the shaft, emerging on a secure level, where two human Intelligence officers coded them into a stuffy room. Han had expected the usual mix of spies and officers, maybe a single chair for the subject, but the cabin felt more like an examination room.

  The only Intelligence operative in attendance was Bhindi Drayson, whom Han, Leia, and Wedge knew from Borleias and other campaigns. The lean and sharp-featured daughter of a former Intelligence chief, Drayson was considered an expert tactician, and almost two years earlier had participated in a Wraith Squadron infiltration mission to Yuuzhan Vong-occupied Coruscant. For company just now she had a red R2 unit and a Givin.

  Exoskeletoned humanoids with tubular limbs, large triangular eye sockets, and gaping mouths set in what appeared to be a perpetual frown of dismay, Givin were a remarkable species. Not only were they capable of surviving in the vacuum of space, but they could also perform complex hyperspace navigation without having to rely on navicomputers. Shipbuilders on a par with Verpine and Duros, they were

  obsessed with calculations, probabilities, and mathematics. Many be-

  lieved that if the meaning of life were ever to be reduced to an equation, a Givin would be the first to do so.

  Before anyone had time for proper introductions, Thorsh was led

  into the room. Absorbing the tableau in a glance, he said, "I'm ready when you are."

  With the astromech droid standing by his side, the Givin seated himself opposite Thorsh. Thorsh closed his eyes and began to speak surrendering the holowafer data he had memorized in an instant on Selvaris. A complex and utterly baffling sequence of numbers and formulas spewed from the Jenet, without pause or inflection. No one in the room stirred; no one interrupted him. When Thorsh finished, he loosed a long exhale.

  "Glad to be rid of that."

  The Givin was nodding his scary head. "No soft-body could have composed such elegant work. I recognize the mind and hand of a Givin in coding the message contained in this equation." "You want him to repeat any it?" Bhindi Drayson asked. The Givin shook his head. "That won't be necessary." She nodded in satisfaction. "Then I guess we're done here." Han glanced around in bafflement. "That's it? That's the

  debriefing?"

  Wedge nodded his chin to the Givin and the droid. "The rest is

  up to them."

  Han and Leia had just found seats in the mess hall when Major Ummar brought word that General Cracken was ready to conduct the

  briefing.

  "So much for a real meal," Han said.

  Leia sighed. "I'll have Threepio prepare us something later."

  "The perfect appetite suppressant."

  By the time the Solos arrived, the base's tactical information center was filled to capacity with intelligence analysts, ships' officers, and wing commanders. Cracken's adjutant escorted Han and Leia down the amphitheater's broad carpeted stairs to seats in the front row. On the rostrum sat Wedge and three colonels—two Bothans and

  a Sullustan.

  Seventy-five-year-old Airen Cracken, whose intelligence briefings had literally given shape to the Rebel Alliance during the Galactic Civil War, stood at the lectern.

  "First I want to thank all of you for reporting at such short notice.

  If there was time, I would have included this information in tomorrow's

  scheduled briefing, but with HoloNet transmissions disabled, we'll

  need to dispatch couriers immediately if we're to pull this operation

  together."

  Cracken activated a switch on the lectern's slanted top, and a

  holoprojection appeared to his left, detailing an unidentified sector of the galaxy. Cracken used a laser pointer to indicate a star system in the upper right quadrant, which expanded as the pointer's red beam touched the holo's sizing node.

&nb
sp; "The Tantara system," Cracken continued, "looking Coreward from Bilbringi. The principal stars are Centis Major and Renaant. The closest habitable world — presently occupied by the Yuuzhan Vong — is

  Selvaris."

  Cracken nodded at Han and Leia, then gestured to them. "Cap-

  tain Solo and Princess Leia have just returned from Selvaris. There they were successful in rescuing a prisoner who escaped from an enemy internment camp constructed on the surface. Among those we have been able to identify as fellow prisoners in the camp are Captain Judder Page, of Corulag, and my own son, Major Pash Cracken."

  Murmurs of genuine surprise swept through the room.

  "How come nobody told us that?" Han asked Leia out of the

  corner of his mouth.

  She shushed him gently. "Let's at least hear Airen out before we

  make a fuss."

  "Okay," Han said slowly. "But just this once." "A resistance group operating on Selvaris was able to obtain important intelligence, and pass that intelligence along to Captain Page and Major Cracken, who are currently the highest-ranking Alliance officers in captivity at the camp. The intelligence was encrypted as a complex mathematical formula, which was memorized by the Jenet escapee, and decrypted only two hours ago. It provides us with details Peace Brigade mission to transport to Coruscant several hundred Alliance officials and high-ranking officers who are being held on Seland in more than a dozen such camps along the fringes of the an Vong invasion corridor. We now know when the pickups are

  to be made, and we know the route the Peace Brigade convoy plans to use in reaching Coruscant. We don't yet know the reason for this mass relocation, but we have a good guess."

  "No wonder Wedge said he has a stake in this," Han whispered. "Some of the officers Cracken is talking about were probably captured during the attempt to retake Bilbringi."

  Wedge stepped to the lectern and took over for Cracken. "Alliance spies placed inside the Peace Brigade have alerted Mon Calamari command that a Yuuzhan Vong religious ceremony of great significance is scheduled to take place on Coruscant sometime within the next standard week. The purpose of this ceremony is unclear. It could mark the anniversary of some historical event, or its purpose could be to quell the rising tide of discontent that continues to plague Coruscant. The purpose is immaterial, in any case, since it is our belief that the prisoners being transported to Coruscant are to be sacrificed at this ceremony."

  Separate conversations broke out throughout the amphitheater. Leia tuned them out to absorb the tragic news in silence.

  Almost since the start of the war, the seditious Peace Brigade had transported everything from hibernating amphistaffs to captives for sacrifice. Mixed-species renegades, there wasn't anything they wouldn't do for credits and the freedom to move about the galaxy as they wished. But there was small profit in being a Brigader any longer. Those who weren't hunted down and killed by Alliance operatives or loyalists had usually ended up dying at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong themselves. And no matter which way the war went, they were going to end up on the losing side—useless to the Yuuzhan Vong, traitors to the Alliance. That didn't seem to matter, however. They lived for the moment, the credits, the thrill, the spice.

  "Everyone here knows that countless lives have ended on Yuuzhan Vong sacrificial pyres," Wedge was saying. "But it is imperative that this convoy be prevented from reaching Coruscant. In the past, whenever and wherever possible, we have attempted to save lives—that has always been our mandate. We have frequently failed because of erroneous intelligence or overwhelming force. Some of you are probably asking yourselves, Why this convoy? The answer is simple: because many

  of the prisoners—Captain Page and Major Cracken among them- are desperately needed to rally support for planetary sectors on the verge of acquiescing to the enemy. In addition, because their cover will be compromised, those agents operating within the Peace Brigade who helped provide this intelligence will also have to be extracted. And we are faced with having to execute this rescue without the advantage of coordinating operations through the HoloNet." Wedge waited for the amphitheater to quiet. "Selvaris is the last stop before the convoy jumps to Coruscant, so our ambush must wait until the prisoners have been transferred. Given the devastating losses the Peace Brigade sustained a year ago at Ylesia and Duro, it's reasonable to assume that the convoy will be escorted and complemented by Yuuzhan Vong war vessels. Admirals Sow and Kre'fey have already seen fit to allocate Blackmoon, Scimitar, Twin Suns, and other starfighter squadrons to the mission. The starfighters will lend support to our gunships, as well as protect the transports needed to house those prisoners we rescue. Captain Solo and Princess Leia have volunteered Millennium FaIcon for the latter purpose." Leia cut her wide-open eyes to Han. "When did that happen?" "I, uh, might've said something to Wedge earlier." "You didn't even know what the mission was going to entail." Han smiled crookedly. "I basically said that he could put us down for whatever they had in mind."

  Leia took a breath and faced front. Much to her mounting unease, Han had gotten into the habit of accepting every dangerous assignment dreamed up by Galactic Alliance command. If was as if the successes in the Koornacht Cluster, at Bakura, and at Esfandia had merely primed Han's pump, or had been nothing more than warm-up exercises for some grand mission during which he would defeat the Yuuzhan Vong single-handedly—or at least in partnership with Leia.

  But the war had taken a toll on both of them, beginning with

  Chewbacca's death and culminating with the tragic events at Myrkr,

  where their youngest son Anakin had died, their older son Jacen had

  been captured, and their daughter Jaina had forged her grief into a

  sword of vengeance that had pushed her to the edge of the dark side

  and nearly cost her her life.

  Leia knew in her heart that she and Han were more unified than they had ever been. But the constant missions had been exhausting and lately there had been too many close calls. At times she wished that she could gather her scattered family and spirit everyone to some far corner of the galaxy, untouched by the war. But even on the remote chance that such a corner existed, Han wouldn't consider absenting himself for a moment, especially now, with HoloNet communications down, and the need for gifted pilots with fast ships.

  Before that safe corner could ever be found and claimed as their own—before the galaxy could know enduring peace—Leia and Han would need to see the war through to the bitter end.

  She came back to herself just as Wedge was concluding his remarks.

  "We are committed to this operation for an added reason of equal importance—that is, in the hope that a rescue of such magnitude will spoil the impending sacrifice." Wedge's expression turned hard as he scanned the assembly. "Any thorns we can drive deeper into Shimrra's side will further destabilize Coruscant, and provide us with the window we need to rebuild our forces and safeguard those worlds the enemy has thus far been unable to vanquish."

  It was raining insects on Yuuzhan'tar—the former Coruscant, once bright center, now dimmed, defiled by war, transformed by the Yuuzhan Vong into a riotous garden. A seeming mishmash of ferns, conifers, and other flora blunted what only two years earlier had been technological sierra. Verdant growth nudged through mist in valleys that had once been canyons between kilometer-high megastructures. Newly formed lakes and basins created by the fall of mighty towers and orbital platforms were filled to overflowing with water, initially brought by asteroids but since delivered with regularity from a purple sky.

  To some, Yuuzhan'tar, "Creche of the Gods," was a world returned to its bygone splendor, lost and rediscovered, more alive for having been conquered, its orbit altered—tweaked sunward—three of its moons steered away and returned, and the fourth pulverized to form a braided ring, a bridge of supernatural light, along which the gods strolled in serene meditation.

  And yet insects were raining down on Supreme Overlord Shimrra's rainbow-winged worldship Citadel—his holy mount,
rising from a yorik coral cradle to tower over what had been the most populous and important precinct of the galactic capital. An unrelenting tattoo of falling bodies that sounded like a thousand drummers pounding out different rhythms.

  The stink beetles spattered the dome of the Hall of Confluence and the stately, organiform bridges that linked the hall to other hallowed places. The plague had been born on the other side of Yuuzhan'tar because of a mistake by the World Brain—an over-breeding—and now the creatures were dying because of yet another mistake by the dhuryam. The air around the Citadel reeked, and the ground was slippery with smashed bodies.

  The atmosphere inside the great hall was somber. A place of assembly for the Yuuzhan Vong elite, it was defined by a curving roof supported by pillars sculpted from ancient bone. Broad at the four palpating portals where the high caste entered, the hall attenuated at the opposite end, where Shimrra sat on a pulsing crimson throne, propped by clusters of hau polyps. Dovin basals provided a sense of gravity, of uphill walking, increasing the nearer one came to Shimrra's spike-backed seat.

  And yet the atmosphere inside the hall was moody and silent. A kneeling gathering of priests, warriors, shapers, and intendants waited for the Supreme Overlord to speak. The brooding silence was fractured by the sound of insects striking the roof, or being swept from the fronting causeways into the accommodating mouths of a dozen maw luur . . .

  "You are asking yourselves, Where have we erred?" Shimrra said at last. "Does the fault lie with our cleansings, our sacrifices, our conquests? Are we being tested by the gods, or have we been abandoned? Is Shimrra still our conduit, or has he become our liability? You are preoccupied with fears concerning balance and derangement. You wonder if all of us haven't become Shamed Ones in the eyes of the gods—spurned, disdained, ostracized because of our pride and our inability to prevail." Shimrra paused to look around the hall, then asked: "Do you think that your distrust in me, your whispered doubts, benefits our noble cause? If I can hear you, what must the gods be thinking when they look into each and every one of you? I will tell you what the gods are saying to another: They have lost faith in the one we set upon the polyp throne. And in doubting the Supreme Overlord, our yoke to them, they doubt us.