Star Wars - [New Jedi Order 08] - [Edge of Victory 02] - Rebirth (by Greg Keyes)

Star Wars

The New Jedi Order

Edge of Victory

II

Rebirth

by John Gregory Keys

Scan/OCR by Gilad

The author would like to thank the following people: The Flying Rat

Toli club, for support during a dark time.

Shelly Shapiro and Sue Rostoni for timely help, advice, and hard work

at every stage of the process. My fellow authors-Troy Denning, Jim Luceno,

Elaine Cunningham, and Mike Stackpole for helping me try and get things

right. Thanks also to Michael Kogge, Colette Russen, Kathleen O'Shea, Deanna

Hoak, Ben Harper, Leland Chee, Chris Cerasi, Enrique Guerrero, Eelia

Goldsmith Hendersheid, Helen Keier, and Dan Wallace. And again, to Kris

Boldis for his support. It's been a blast, everyone!

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Anakin Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Booster Terrik; captain, Errant Venture (male human)

Cilghal; Jedi healer (female Mon Calamari)

Corran Horn; Jedi Knight (male human)

Colonel Gavin Darklighter; Rogue Squadron (male human)

Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

Kae Kwaad; master shaper (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Kam Solusar; Jedi Master (male human)

Kyp Durron; Jedi Master (male human)

Leia Organa Solo; former New Republic diplomat (female human)

Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

Mara Jade Skywalker; Jedi Master (female human)

Nen Yim; shaper adept (female Yuuzhan Vong)

Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Onimi; Supreme Overlord Shimrra's jester (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Qurang Lah; warleader (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Tahiri Veila; Jedi student (female human)

Talon Karrde; independent information broker (male human)

Traest Kre'fey; admiral (male Bothan)

Tsavong Lah; warmaster (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Vergere; familiar to the deceased Yuuzhan Vong priestess,

Elan (female Fosh)

PROLOGUE

Blood, drifting in starlight,

That was the first thing Jacen Solo saw when he opened his eyes. It had

beaded into what looked, in the dim, like polished black pearls reflecting

the ancient starlight filtering through the transparisteel a meter or so

away. He noted absently that the spheroids were all spinning in the same

direction.

He was spinning, too, very slowly, through the little nebula of blood.

Even in the negligible illumination he could tell he was only a few

centimeters from a wall.

From the ache in his leg and skull, he had a good idea where the blood

was coming from. It was cold, too, but the air seemed stuffy.

What was going on?

Outside the window, something large and irregular moved to block the

stars, and he remembered.

Tsavong Lah, warmaster of the Yuuzhan Vong, clicked the obsidian-sharp

talons of his new foot against the living coral of his command chamber floor

and considered it in the pale light of the myco luminescent walls.

He might have had the foot the cursed Jeedai took from him replaced

with a clone of his own, but that would have been not only dishonorable but

personally unsatisfying. That an infidel had taken something from him was

bad enough; to pretend that the wound had never happened was unthinkable.

But a hobbling warmaster would lose respect, especially if he had not

made the sacrifice himself.

The pain was fading, and feeling was coming into his new foot as the

nerves learned their way. The four armored digits of a vua'sa now made up

half his stride.

The choice was an homage to the most ancient traditions of his office.

The first warmaster created by Yun-Yuuzhan had not been a Yuuzhan Vong, but

a living weapon-beast he named vua'sa. A Yuuzhan Vong challenged the vua'sa

to single combat, triumphed, and took its place. Even now, Vua was a popular

name among the warrior caste.

Tsavong Lah had bade the shapers grow him a vua'sa. Though the creature

had been extinct since the ancestral home planet was lost, its pattern still

existed in the deeps of shaper memory-qahsa. They had made it; he had fought

it and triumphed, despite having to fight on one foot. Now Tsavong Lah knew

the gods still deemed him worthy of his station.

And from the cooling corpse of the vua'sa, he had a new foot.

"Warmaster."

Tsavong recognized the voice of his aide, Selong Lian, but did not look

up from the examination of his prize.

"Speak."

"Someone petitions for words with you."

"Not my expected appointment?"

"No, Warmaster. It is the deception-sect priestess Ngaaluh."

Tsavong Lah growled in the back of his throat. Worshipers of Yun-Harla

had failed the Yuuzhan Vong of late. Still, the sect was powerful, and

Supreme Overlord Shimrra continued to favor the antics of those who

worshiped the Trickster goddess. And since Yun-Harla oversaw the elevation

of warriors and had possibly aided him in his fight with the vua'sa, he

perhaps owed the goddess a favor, as well.

"Let me hear her words," he said.

A moment later, the priestess entered. She was slender, her

back-sloping forehead narrower than most, the bluish sacs beneath her eyes

mere crescents. She wore a ceremonial robe of living tissue grown to

resemble a flayed skin.

"Warmaster," she said, crossing her arms in salute. "I am greatly

honored."

"Your message," he snapped impatiently. "I have other business waiting.

Harrar sent you?" "Yes, Warmaster." "Speak, then." "The priestess Elan, who

died to further the conquest of

the infidels-"

"Who failed her task," Tsavong Lah reminded.

"Just so, Warmaster. She failed, but died nevertheless in the cause of

the glorious Yuuzhan Vong. The priestess Elan had a familiar, a sentient

creature named Vergere."

"I am aware of that. Did it not die with its mistress?"

"No, Warmaster. That is what I have come to tell you. It managed to

escape the infidels and make its way back to us."

"Did it."

"Yes, Warmaster. She has communicated to us much of interest concerning

the infidels, things she learned in their custody. Much more she knows and

will not tell except to you, Tsavong Lah."

"You suspect an infidel trick? An attempt to assassinate

me, perhaps?"

"We do not entirely trust her, Warmaster, but determined to bring you

her words so you might decide how to treat

her."

Tsavong Lah inclined his heavily scarred features. "It is good you did

so. She must be interrogated and examined by the haar vhinic, of course.

Afterward, have her brought to my ship, but keep her far from me. Tell her I

will need further proof of both her intelligence and intentions before she

may stand before me,"

"It will be done, Warmaster."

He gave the priestess the sign of dismissal, and she immediately

departed. Good. A priestess who knew her station.

His aide immediately took her place at the red-flanged receiving

portal. "Qurang Lah has arrived, Warmaster," he said. "And the executor, Nom

Anor."

"They will see me, now," Tsavong Lah pronounced.

Qurang Lah was his creche-brother, a less elevated version of himself.

His face was cut in deep hatch marks, and

the gash of Domain Lah, while not as deep as the war-master's

ear-to-ear cut, was still a clear marker of his lineage.

"Belek tiu, Warmaster." Qurang Lah saluted with crossed arms, as did

the much slighter executor by his side. "Command me."

Tsavong Lah nodded at his creche-brother, but fixed his gaze on Nom

Anor. The executor's one real eye and the venomous plaeryin bol that

occupied his other socket stared unblinking back at him.

"Executor," Tsavong Lah rumbled. "I have taken your latest suggestions

under advisement. You are certain they are ripe for conquest?"

"The hinges of their fortress are weakened, Warmaster," Nom Anor

replied. "I have seen to it personally. The battle will be a quick one, the

victory easily secured."

"I have heard this from you before," the warmaster said. He turned his

attention to the warrior. "Qurang Lah. You have been briefed in the matter.

Have you anything to say?"

Qurang Lah revealed his sharpened teeth. "Conquest is always

desirable," he said. "However, this seems a foolish time to move. The

infidels tremble before us; they fear to counterattack; they dare dream our

bloody path ended with Duro and that we might be satisfied to live in the

same galaxy with abomination-using vermin. This is to our advantage; the

shipwomb produces their doom, but it must be given time. At this moment, our

fleet is thinly scattered, more thinly than the infidels know. One misstep

now,'before the shipwomb again swells our fleet, could be costly indeed."

"There will be no cost," Nom Anor asserted. "And the moment to strike

is now. If we wait longer, the Jeedai will have more time to act."

"The Jeedai." Tsavong Lah snarled. "Tell me, Nom Anor. With all of your

infidel contacts and all your self-proclaimed expertise in manipulating

them, why have you been unable to bring me the one Jeedai I desire above all

others-Jacen Solo?"

Nom Anor did not flinch. "That is a most difficult task, as you know,

Warmaster," he admitted. "Certain elements

among the Jeedai and their allies have gone rogue. They no longer

answer to the senate, or any other body where we have allies. That is my

point; when you told the infidels that we would cease our conquest if the

Jeedai were delivered up to us, it was a brilliant strategy. It gave us time

to build our force and secure our territories. It gave us many Jeedai. But

Jacen is kin to Skywalker, the master of them all. He is the son of Leia

Organa Solo and Han Solo, both worthy opponents who have managed to vanish

for the time being. I have strategies that will uncover them; even now, a

plan unfolds regarding Skywalker and his mate Mara and that will bring the

others running, Jacen included."

"And this place you wish to feel the talons of our might? This involves

the Jeedai?"

"It does not, Warmaster. But it will throw their senate into desperate

confusion. It will give us the leverage we need to end the Jeedai threat

forever. As of now, the government of the New Republic still refuses to make

it policy to outlaw the Jeedai. In one stroke I can change that, as well as

build us a new fortress overlooking the Core. But the time is now; if we

wait, we will lose our opportunity."

"Nom Anor has counseled us ill before," Qurang Lah

said.

"This is too true," the warmaster returned. "But it chafes me not to

strike, to pretend quiescence so long. The number of Jeedai the weak-kneed

infidels have given us has declined lately. We were humiliated at Yavin

Four. There must be atonement, and Yun-Yuuzhan craves the scent of blood."

"If you wish it, Warmaster," Qurang Lah said, "I shall lead my fleet. I

never shrink from battle when my duty

calls."

"Hurr," Tsavong Lah murmured, considering. "Nom Anor, you will

implement your plan. Qurang Lah will command the Yuuzhan Vong forces, and

you will advise him how to proceed. If your advice is again flawed, there

will be a more serious reckoning. If it is good, as you assure me it will

be, you will atone for your recent mistakes. Do you understand?"

"I understand, Warmaster. I will not fail."

"See you do not. Qurang Lah, have you anything else to say?"

"I have not, Warmaster. My duty is clear now." He snapped the salute.

"Belek tiu. The infidels will fall before us. Their ships shall burn like

falling stars. As I speak it, it is already done."

PART I

THRESHOLD

ONE

"You've had worse ideas, Luke," Mara Jade Skywalker reluctantly

admitted, nodding her head back so the sunlight fell on her face and her

deep red-gold tresses trailed behind her. Posed that way, eyes closed,

framed against the blue line of the sea, her beauty closed Luke's throat for

a moment.

Mara's green eyes opened, and she looked at him with a sort of wistful

fondness before arching a cynical brow.

"Getting all fatherly on me again?"

"No," he said softly. "Just thinking how ridiculously lucky I am."

"Hey. I'm the one with the hormone swings. You aren't trying to one-up

me, are you?" But she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Come on," she

said. "Let's walk a bit more."

"You sure you're up to it?"

"What, you want to carry me? Of course I'm up to it. I'm pregnant, not

hamstrung. You think it would be better for our kid if I spent all day lying

around sucking on oorp?"

"I just thought you wanted to relax."

"Absolutely. And this is relaxing. Us, all alone, on a beautiful

island. Well, sort of an island. Come on."

The beach was warm beneath Luke's bare feet. He had been reluctant to

agree to going shoeless, but Mara had insisted that's what one did on a

beach. He found, to his surprise, that it reminded him pleasantly of his

boyhood on Tatooine. Back then, in the relative cool of early evening- one

of those rare periods when both blazing suns were nearly set-sometimes he

would take his shoes off and feel

the still-warm sand between his toes. Not when Uncle Owen was looking,

of course, because the old man would launch into an explanation of what

shoes were for in the first place, about the valuable moisture Luke was

losing though his soles.

For an instant, he could almost hear his uncle's voice and smell Aunt

Beru's giju stew. He had an urge to put his shoes back on.

Owen and Beru Larses had been the first personal casualties in Luke

Skywalker's battle against the Empire. He wondered if they had known why

they died.

He missed them. Anakin Skywalker may have been his father, but the

Larses had been his parents.

"I wonder how Han and Leia are doing?" Mara wondered aloud,

interrupting his reverie.

"I'm sure they're fine. They've only been gone a few days."

"I wonder if Jacen should have gone with them?" "Why not? He's proven

himself capable often enough. And they're his parents. Besides, with half

the galaxy after him, it's better he stay on the move."

"Right. I only meant it makes things worse for Jaina. It's hard on her,

doing nothing, knowing her brother is out fighting the fight."

"I know. But Rogue Squadron will probably call her up pretty soon."

"Sure," Mara replied. "Sure they will." She sounded far from convinced.

"You don't think so?" Luke asked.

"No. I think they would like to, but her Jedi training makes her too

much of a political liability right now."

"When did the Rogues ever care about politics? Has someone said this to

you?"

"Not in so many words, but I hear things, and I'm trained to listen to

the words behind the words. I hope I'm wrong, for Jama's sake."

Her feelings brushed Luke in the Force, running a troubled harmony to

her assertion.

"Mara," Luke said, "my love, while I'll believe you when you say

picking up parasites on a strange beach is relaxing-"

"Nonsense. This sand is as sterile as an isolation lab. It's perfectly

safe to walk barefoot. And you like the feel of it."

"If you say so. But I forbid any more talk about politics, Jedi, the

war, the Yuuzhan Vong, anything like that. We're out here for you to relax,

to forget all of that for a day or so. Just a day."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're the one who thinks the whole

universe will collapse unless you're there to keep it spinning."

"I'm not pregnant."

"Say something like that again, and I'll make you wish you were," she

said, a bit sharply. "And by the way, if we do this again, it's your turn."

"We'll play sabacc for it," Luke responded, trying to keep a straight

face but failing. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, hard.

They continued along the strand, past a rambling stand of crawling

slii, all knotted roots and giant gauzy leaves. Waves were beginning to lap

on the beach, as they hadn't earlier, which meant they were on the bow side

of the "island."

It wasn't an island at all, of course, but a carefully landscaped park

atop a floating mass of polymer cells rilled with inert gas. A hundred or so

of them cruised the artificial western sea of Coruscant, pleasure craft

built by rich merchants during the grand, high days of the Old Republic. The

Emperor had discouraged such frivolity, and most had been docked for decades

and fallen into disrepair. Still, many were in good enough shape to

refurbish, and in the youth of the New Republic, a few sharp businessmen had

purchased some and made them commercial successes. One such person, not

surprisingly, had been Lando Calrissian, a longtime friend of Luke's. He had

offered Luke use of the craft whenever he wished it. It had taken Luke a

long time to call in the offer.

He was glad he had done it-Mara seemed to be enjoying it. But she was

right, of course. With everything that was

happening now, it was hard not to think of it as a waste of time.

But some feelings could not be trusted. Mara was showing now, her belly

gloriously rounded around their son, and she was suffering from all of the

physical discomforts any woman did in that situation. Nothing in her

training as an assassin, smuggler, or Jedi Knight had prepared her for this

compromised state, and despite her obvious love for their unborn child, Luke

knew physical weakness grated on her. Her comment about Jaina might just as

well have been about herself.

And there were other worries, too, and a pocket paradise wasn't likely

to help her forget them, but at least they could take a few deep breaths and

pretend they were on some distant, uninhabited world, rather than in the

thick of the biggest mess since before the Empire had been defeated.

No, strike that. The Empire had threatened to extinguish liberty and

freedom, to bring the dark side of the Force to ascendance. The enemy they

faced now threatened extinction in a much more literal and ubiquitous sense.

So Luke walked with his wife as evening fell, pretending not to be

thinking of these things, knowing she could feel he was anyway.

"What will we name him?" Mara asked at last. The sun had vanished in a

lens on the horizon, and now Coruscant began to shatter the illusion of

pristine nature. The distant shores glowed in a solid mass, and the sky

remained deep red on the horizon. Only near zenith did it resemble the night

sky of most moonless planets, but even there was a baroque embroidery of

light as aircars and starships followed their carefully assigned paths, some

coming home, some leaving home, some merely arriving at another port.

A million little lights, each with a story, each a spark of

significance in the Force that flowed from them, around them, through them.

No illusion, here. All was nature. All was beauty, if you had eyes

willing to see it.

"I don't know." He sighed. "I don't even know where to start."

'It's just a name," she said.

"You would think. But everyone seems to believe it's important. Since

we went public with the news, you wouldn't believe how many suggestions I've

gotten, and from the strangest places."

Mara stopped walking, and her face reflected a sudden profound

astonishment. "You're afraid," she said.

He nodded. "I guess I am. I guess I don't think it's 'just a name,' not

when it comes to people like us. Look at Anakin. Leia named him after our

father, a gesture to the person who became Darth Vader, as a recognition

that he overcame the dark side and died a good man. It was her

Star Wars - [New Jedi Order 08] - [Edge of Victory 02] - Rebirth (by Greg Keyes)

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