Star Wars - [New Jedi Order 05] - [Agents of Chaos 02] - Jedi Eclipse (by James Luceno)

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Star Wars - New Jedi Order

Agent Of Chaos II - Jedi Eclipse

James Luceno

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Anakin Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Beed Thane; archon of Vergill (male human)

Borga Besadii Diori; Hurt ruler (female Hurt)

Brand; New Republic commodore (male human)

Chine-kal; commander, Creche (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Droma; spacer (male Ryn)

Gaph; refugee (male Ryn)

Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

Kyp Durron; Jedi Master (male human)

Leia Organa Solo; New Republic ambassador (female human)

Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

Malik Carr; commander (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Melisma; refugee (female Ryn)

Nas Choka; supreme commander (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

Prince Isolder; Royal House of Hapes (male human)

Randa Besadii Diori (male Hurt)

Roa; prisoner (male human)

Sapha; prisoner (female Ryn)

Talon Karrde; liaison (male human)

Viqi Shesh; senator (female human)

Wurth Skidder; Jedi Knight (male human)

ONE

It was morning in Gyndine's capital city, though that fact was scarcely evident to anyone on the surface.

The rising sun, when glimpsed at all, was a blanched disk behind roiling smoke belched from flaming

forests and buildings. Sounds of battle reverberated thunderously from the surrounding foothills, and a hot

scouring wind swept down across the landscape. A crepuscular darkness, ripped ragged by flashes of

blinding light, ruled the day.

The artificial light was supplied by warriors and war machines, coursing over scorched ground, streaking

through the racked sky, in orbit above the madness. Through leaden clouds allied and enemy fighter craft

pursued one another doggedly, adding sonic claps to the strident score of combat. East of the

beleaguered capital, beams of energy stabbed mercilessly at the surface from on high, fanning out like

shafts of profuse sunlight or concentrated into dazzling curtains that set the horizon glowing red as a

frozen dawn.

Loosed by advancing enemy contingents, missiles of superheated rock assailed what remained of the city,

holing surviving towers and toppling those already gutted by fire. Hunks of shattered ferrocrete and

twisted plasteel tumbled onto cratered streets and clogged alleyways. A few civilians dashed desperately

for shelter while others huddled, paralyzed with fear, in gaping, fire-blackened maws that were once

entryways and storefronts. In some quarters, ion cannons and nearly depleted turbolaser batteries

answered the missile barrage with darts of cyan light. But only in the environs of the New Republic

embassy were the enemy projectiles deflected, turned by a hastily installed containment shield.

Dangerously close to the shield's shimmering perimeter, a thousands-strong mixed-species throng,

massed behind stun fencing, pressed to be admitted. At the edges of the crowd droids perambulated in a

daze, keenly aware of the fate awaiting them should the invaders overrun the city.

Were the stun fence the sole obstacle to safe haven, the crowd might have panicked and stormed the

embassy grounds. But the perimeter was reinforced by heavily armed New Republic soldiers, and there

was also the force field itself to consider. An umbrella of energy, the lambent shield had to be deactivated

before it could be safely breached, and that occurred only when an evacuation ship launched for

rendezvous with one of the transports anchored in local space.

Ashen faces masked with cloth against the mephitic air, Gyndine's would-be evacuees did all they could

to ensure their survival. With arms extended protectively around the shoulders of terrified children or

clasped tightly to tattered bundles of personal belongings, they pleaded with the soldiers, tendered bribes,

inveigled and threatened. Ordered to remain silent, the grim-faced troops offered neither comforting

looks nor words of encouragement. Only their eyes belied the seeming dispassion, racing about like taurill

or angling imploringly toward the one person who could accede to the entreaties and demands.

Leia Organa Solo caught one such glance now, aimed her way by a human soldier posted close to what

had become the communications bunker. With her face smudged and her long hair captured under a

brimmed cap, it was unlikely that anyone in the crowd recognized her as onetime hero of the Rebel

Alliance and former chief of state, but the sky-blue combat overalls-bloused sleeves emblazoned with the

emblem of SELCORE, the Senate Select Committee for Refugees-identified her as everyone's best

chance for rescue, their purveyor of deliverance. As it was, she couldn't venture within five meters of the

stun fence without having wailing infants, necklaces of prayer beads, or rushed missives to offworld loved

ones extended to her in dire urgency.

She didn't dare make eye contact with anyone, lest in her gaze someone read hope or evidence of her

anguish. To provide some measure of equipoise, she drew deeply on the Force. But more often than not

she paced unswervingly between the bunker and the leading edge of the shield, eager for word that

another evacuation ship had landed and was waiting to be filled.

Ever in her wake moved faithful Olmahk, whose native gray ferocity made him appear more stalker than

bodyguard. But at least the diminutive Noghri looked at home among the chaos, whereas C-3PO-his

normally auric gleam dulled by soot and ash-was positively dismayed. Lately, though, the protocol

droid's apprehension had less to do with his own safety than with the larger threat the Yuuzhan Vong

posed to all machine life, often the first to suffer when a world fell.

A forceful explosion rocked the permacrete under Leia's feet, and a swirling globe of orange fire

mushroomed from the heart of the city. A searing wind laced with droplets of even hotter rain tugged at

Leia's cap and jumpsuit. Created by the energy exchanges and conflagrations, microclimatic storms had

been washing across the plateau all night long. Hail mixed with cinders lifted from Gyndine's ruined

surface pelted everyone, blistering exposed flesh like acid. Even through the insulated soles of knee-high

boots, Leia could feel the ground's aberrant heat.

A loud sizzling sound made her swing toward the shield in time to see it evanesce in undulating waves of

distortion.

"Evac ship away," a soldier reported from the communications bunker, both hands pressed to the outsize

earmuffs of his comm helmet. "Two more headed down the well."

Leia raised her eyes to the tenebrous sky. Defined by running lights as oblate in shape, the departing ship

raised itself on repulsor power, then shot upward on a column of blue fire, escorted by half a dozen

X-wings. Lying in ambush, a cataract of coralskippers vectored in from the foothills to give chase.

Leia whirled to the soldiers posted at the stun fence. "Admit the next group!"

Crushed shoulder to shoulder, cheek to jowl, folks at the forward edge of the crowd-humans, Sullustans,

Bimms, and others-were funneled through the embassy gates. With the shield lowered, enemy projectiles

that would have been deflected plummeted like fiery meteors, one of them striking the east wing of the

Imperial-era embassy and setting it ablaze.

Leia clapped the evacuees on the back as they streamed toward a shuttle craft idling on the landing zone.

"Hurry!" she urged. "Hurry!"

"Shield repowering," the same comm officer relayed from the bunker. "Everyone back."

Leia gritted her teeth. These were the worst moments, she told herself.

Soldiers at the gate resealed the cordon and scanned the vicinity for evidence of field disruptors. In

response the crowd surged forward, railing against what had to seem the inequity, the arbitrariness of it

all. Folks closest to the front, fearing they would miss their chance at salvation by one or two persons,

tried to worm or force their way past the soldiers, while those in the rear shoved and scrambled,

determined to fight their way forward. Leia saw that it was futile, and yet the crowd refused to disperse,

hoping against hope that New Republic forces could keep the invaders at bay until every civilian and

noncombatant was evacuated.

"Mistress Leia," C-3PO said, approaching in haste with his hands raised and his

photoreceptors^glowing, "the deflector shield is weakening! If we don't l^ave soon, we're sure to

perish!"

As many would that day, Leia thought.

"We'll leave on the last ship," she told C-3PO, "not before. Until then, make yourself useful by cataloging

names and species."

C-3PO lifted his arms higher and skittered through an abrupt about-face. "What's to become of us?"

Leia exhaled wearily, wondering, as well.

The bombardment had commenced two days earlier, when a Yuuzhan Vong flotilla had arrived

unexpectedly in the nearby Circarpous system from enemy positions in Hutt space. A slapdash attempt

had been made to fortify the sector capital, but with fleets and task forces already committed to

safeguarding major systems in the Colonies and the Core, the New Republic had little to offer worlds of

secondary importance like Gyndine, despite its modest orbital shipyard.

By the same token, there was no rhyme or reason for the Yuuzhan Vong attack-beyond continuing to

sow confusion. With the recent fall of several Mid Rim worlds, Gyndine, because of its relative

remoteness, had been thought ideal for use as a transit point for refugees, and indeed many of those

outside the fence had been shipped in from Ithor, Obroa-skai, Ord Mantell, and a host of

enemy-occupied planets. It was becoming clear that the Yuuzhan Vong delighted in pursuing displaced

populations almost as much as they delighted in sacrificing captives and immolating droids. Even the

ground assault on Gyndine seemed to be their way of proving themselves as adept at seizing worlds as

they were at poisoning them.

The voice of the comm officer put a quick end to Leia's musings. "Ambassador, we've got a live

surveillance probe feed from the field."

Leia hesitated, then ducked into the bunker, where a reduced-scale hologram, dazzled by noise, had the

attention of the several men and women gathered there. It took her a moment to make sense of what she

was seeing, and even then part of her refused to accept the truth.

"What in the name of-"

"Fire breathers," someone said, as if anticipating her amazement. "Rumor has it the Yuuzhan Vong

stopped off at Mimban so the things could fill up on swamp gas." Leia's quivering legs urged her to sit,

and as she did she brought a hand to her mouth. Parading out of sunrise like the harbingers of a new and

dreadful dawn, came a legion of enormous bladderlike creatures, supported on six stubby legs and

equipped with arrays of flexible proboscises from which gushed streams of gelatinous flame. "The

methane and hydrogen sulfide have to be mixing with something they carry in their guts to produce that

liquid fire," a woman at the controls of the holo-projector commented, more intrigued than horrified.

"They're also exhaling antilaser aerosols." Yet another example of the enemy's genetically engineered

monstrosities, the thirty-meter-tall fire breathers didn't so much march as loll over the terrain, like loosely

tethered lighter-than-air balloons, incinerating everyone and everything in their path.

Leia could almost smell the nidor of the carnage.

"Whatever they are, they've got thick hides," the comm officer said. "Can't be taken out by anything less

than a turbolaser beam."

Unable to slow the advance of the deadly blimps, Gyndine units were abandoning entrenched positions

and falling back in droves toward the city. Strewn about were fire-blackened war machines of all

variety-tank droids, aged Loronar mobile turbolasers, even a couple of AT-AT walkers, tipped over,

headless, collapsed on the ground with legs splayed.

"They're withdrawing!" Leia said harshly. "Who issued the retreat order?"

Even as the words left her mouth, she was sorry she had uttered them. Those officers who weren't

scrutinizing her were suddenly studying their hands in unease. Could she blame the troops for retreating

when that was precisely what the New Republic had been forced to do almost from the start of the

invasion-withdrawing toward the Core, as if the density of the star systems there afforded protection?

Who could say any longer which actions were just, and which were dishonorable?

Exiting the bunker without a word, Leia found a shaken C-3PO waiting for her.

"Mistress Leia, the most distressing news has reached me!"

Leia could barely hear him. In the few moments she had spent in the bunker, the battle had advanced to

the outskirts of the capital. The crowd was more agitated than before, surging forward and from side to

side.

Through a gap in the city's skyline, Leia thought she could discern the bobbing form of a Yuuzhan Vong

fire breather.

"It seems," C-3PO was saying, "that Gyndine's citizens are laboring under the impression that you are

deliberately discriminating against folks of former Imperial persuasion."

Leia's jaw dropped and her brown eyes flashed. "That's absurd. Do they think I can pick out a former

Imperial on sight? And even if I could-"

C-3PO lowered his voice conspiratorially. "In fact, there is some statistical justification for the claim,

Mistress. Of the five thousand thus far evacuated, an overwhelming percentage have been inhabitants of

worlds whose early loyalty to the Rebel Alliance is well documented. However, I'm certain that owes to

nothing more than-"

C-3PO's explanation was swallowed by a deafening explosion. Electricity danced wildly along the

periphery of the energy dome, and the shield disappeared. At once, the telltales that lined the stun fence

flickered and went out. A frightened gasp rose from the crowd.

"The field generator has been hit!" C-3PO said. "We're done for!"

The crowd surged again, and the soldiers closed ranks. Weapons powered up with an ominous whine.

C-3PO began to back toward the embassy gates. "We'll be crushed!"

With lethal efficiency, Olmahk moved to Leia's side. She was about to caution him to remain calm when

one of the soldiers panicked and fired a sonic weapon at point-blank range into the crowd, dropping

dozens and sending the rest rushing in all directions.

Without thinking, Leia ran to the dazed soldier and yanked the weapon from his lax hands. "We're

supposed to be rescuing these people, not injuring them!"

She threw the weapon aside. Drawing her hand across her forehead, she inadvertently dislodged the

brimmed cap, spilling her hair to her shoulders. Wending her way back to the bunker, she grabbed the

nearest comlink and demanded to be put through to the task force commander.

"Ambassador Organa Solo, this is Commander Ilanka," a basso voice responded shortly.

"We need every available ship, Commander- immediately. Yuuzhan Vong forces are entering the city."

Ilanka took a moment to reply. "I'm sorry, Ambassador, but we've got our hands full out here. Three

more enemy warships have exited hyperspace on the far side of the moon. Whatever craft are on the

surface will have to suffice. I urge you to load and launch. And, Ambassador, I strongly suggest you get

yourself aboard one of them."

Leia thumbed the comlink off and scanned the crowd in alarm. How can I choose? she asked herself.

How?

A storm of blazing yorik coral meteors battered the embassy and neighboring buildings, setting fire to all

they touched. The inferno triggered an explosion at a fuel dump near the landing zone, fountaining

shrapnel far and wide. The right side of Leia's face screamed in pain as something opened a furrow in her

cheek. Instinctively she brought her fingertips to the wound, expecting to find blood, but the airborne

fragment had cauterized the wound in its white-hot passing.

"Mistress Leia, you're injured!" C-3PO said, but she waved him back before he could reach her.

Peripherally she saw that a tall sinewy human was being ushered forward, his arms vised in the grip of

two soldiers. Beneath a soft cap he wore low on his forehead, the man's face was bruised and swollen.

"Now what?" Leia asked his custodians.

"An agitator," the shorter soldier reported. "We overheard him telling people in the crowd that we're only

extracting New Republic loyals. That anyone with an Imperial past might as well kiss his-"

"I understand, Sergeant," Leia said, cutting him off. She assessed the captive briefly, wondering what he

could possibly have to gain by spreading lies. She had her mouth open to ask him when a meaningful sniff

from Olmahk put her on alert.

Leia stepped closer to the man and peered intently into his eyes. As she raised her right forefinger, a low

growl escaped Olmahk. The captive recoiled when he realized Leia's intent, but his reaction only firmed

the soldiers' resolve to hold on to him. Leia's eyes narrowed in certainty. She thrust her finger into the

man's face, striking him just where his right nostril curved into his cheek.

To the soldiers' utter astonishment, the man's flesh seemed to recede, taking with it his expression, to

reveal a look that combined pain and pride on a face incised with brilliantly colored designs and

flourishes. The flesh-like mask that had taken flight at Leia's touch disappeared down the throat of the

man's loose-fitting jacket, bunching somewhat as it flayed itself from his torso, only to pour from the cuffs

of his trousers like flesh-colored syrup and puddle on the ground at his feet.

The soldiers leapt back in shock, the sergeant drawing his blaster and putting repeated bolts into the

living puddle. Free of their grip, the Yuuzhan Vong also took a step back, tearing open the front of his

jacket to expose a body vest every bit as alive as the ooglith masquer had been. With his lashless eyes

fixed on Leia, he lifted his face and howled a bloodcurdling war cry.

"Do-ro'ik vong prattel" And woe to our enemies!

"Down! Down!" Leia screamed to everyone nearby.

Olmahk drove her to the ground even as the first of the thud bugs were bursting outward from the

Yuuzhan Vong's chest. The sound was not unlike that of corks being popped from bottles of effervescent

wine, but accompanying the lively explosions were the pained exclamations of soldiers and hapless

civilians who hadn't heard or heeded Leia's counsel. For ten meters in all directions, men and women fell

like trees.

Leia felt Olmahk's weight lift from her. By the time she looked up, the Noghri had ripped out the

Yuuzhan Vong's throat with his teeth. Left and right, people lay on the ground groaning in pain. Others

staggered about with hands pressed to ruptured bellies, compound fractures, broken ribs, or smashed

faces.

"Get these people to the battle dressing station!" Leia ordered.

Yorik coral missiles were continuing to rain down on the embassy and the landing zone, where a dozen

soldiers were overseeing the loading of the final evacuation craft.

The crowd had long since pushed through the gates, but stun batons and sonics were keeping many from

reaching the waiting craft. Groggily, and with Olmahk falling in behind her, Leia began to move that way

herself. She spied C-3PO, whose chest plastron had been deeply dented by one of the thud bugs, just

above his circular power-recharge coupler.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He might have blinked if he could. "Thank the maker I lack a heart!"

As the three of them were closing on the evacuation ship a vintage AT-ST limped into view, blackened

along one side and leaking hydraulic fluid, its grenade launcher blown away. A lightly armored box

perched on reverse-articulated legs, the All Terrain Scout Transport wheezed and clanked to a halt, then

collapsed chin first to the permacrete landing apron. In a moment the aft hatch lifted, loosing a cloud of

smoke, and a young man crawled coughing but otherwise unharmed from the cockpit.

"Wurth Skidder," Leia intoned, folding her arms acro ss her chest. "I should have known it was you from

the brilliance of your entrance."

Blond and sharp-featured, Skidder jumped agilely to his feet and threw off his smoldering Jedi Knight

cloak. "The Yuuzhan Vong have overrun our defenses, Ambassador. The fight's lost." He grinned smugly.

"I wanted you to be the first to know."

Leia had heard from Luke that Skidder was on Gyn-dine, but this was her first contact with him. She had

had trouble with him during the Rhommamoolian crisis eight months earlier, when he had downed a

couple of Rodian-piloted Osarian starfighters intent on interfering with her then-diplomatic duties. At the

time she had found him to be reckless, insolent, and overconfident in his abilities, but Luke insisted that

the Battle of Ithor, and the injury Skidder had sustained there, had changed him for the better. No doubt

because he reveled in being able to put a lightsaber to constant use, Leia thought.

"You're a little late with your update, Wurth," she told him now, "but you're in time for the final flight out

of here." She nodded in the direction of the landing zone. "My brother would never forgive me if I didn't

see you safely back to Coruscant."

Skidder returned an elaborately chivalrous bow, extending his right arm toward her. "A Jedi avoids

argument at all costs." He held her gaze briefly. "Nothing in the Jedi Code about having to answer to

civilians, but I'll comply out of respect for your celebrated sibling."

"Fine," Leia said sarcastically. "Just see to it that you

get aboard." Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she twisted around.

"Ambassador, we're holding space for you, your bodyguard, and droid," a male flight officer reported.

"But you'll have to come now, ma'am. The New Republic envoy is already aboard, and we've received

orders to lift off."

Leia nodded that she understood, then swung back to Skidder, only to see him running toward the

embassy gates. "Skidder!" she yelled, making a megaphone of her hands.

He stopped, turned to her, and waved a hand in what at least appeared to be genuine acknowledgment.

"Just one small task to perform," he shouted back.

Leia frowned angrily and turned to the flight officer once more, cutting her eyes back and forth between

him and the sizable crowd gathering at the foot of the ship's boarding ramp. "Surely the ship can

accommodate a few more."

The officer's lips became a thin line. "We're already at maximum payload, Ambassador." He followed her

gaze to the crowd, then blew out his breath. "But we can probably cram in four more."

Leia touched his forearm in indebtedness, and the two of them hastened for the ramp. Behind a barricade

of soldiers, at the head of the line of evacuees, stood a group of tailed, spike-haired, and velvet-furred

aliens attired in colorful if threadbare vests and wraparound skirts.

Ryn, Leia realized in surprise-the species to which Han's new friend Droma belonged.

"Four," the flight officer reminded, even as Leia was doing a head count of the Ryn. "Some of them will

have to be left behind."

Six Ryn, to be exact, she told herself. Even so, four was better than none. She edged between two broad

shouldered soldiers closest to the ramp and beckoned to the aliens in line. "You four," she said, pointing

to each in turn. "Hurry!"

Expressions of relief and joy appeared. The chosen four turned to exchange embraces with those who

would be abandoned. A swaddled infant was passed from the rear to one of the females up front. Leia

heard someone say, "Melisma, should you find Droma, tell him we're here."

Leia gave a start and glanced about for the one who had said the name, but there wasn't time to seek out

the Ryn. Already the soldiers were backing their way up the ramp, taking her with them.

"Hold on!" she said, coming to a sudden stop and refusing to be moved. "Skidder. Where's Skidder? Is

he already aboard?"

She leaned forward to gaze across the devastated landing zone and spotted him dashing for the ship,

dragging a human female behind him and cradling a longhaired infant in his left arm. The sight gave Leia

pause. Maybe Skidder had changed, after all.

"Make certain they get aboard," Leia instructed the officer in charge, pausing when a

coralskipper-delivered projectile impacted the permacrete only meters from the ramp. "And I don't care

if you have to use a shoehorn to doit."

TWO

Death pursued the shuttle to the edge of space, spitting fire from below, needling with fighter-launched

missiles, clutching with dovin basals housed in warships anchored just inside Gyndine's envelope. The

X-wing escort had to blaze a route through swarms of coral-skippers and take on a frigate analog, five

pilots sacrificing themselves in the attempt to see the evacuees to safety.

Leia sat in the cramped cockpit watching the battle rage, wondering whether they would reach the

transport in time. A ship that had launched before dawn hadn't been so lucky. Hull perforated in several

places, the oval craft drifted lazily in golden sunlight, venting atmosphere and debris into space.

Wherever Leia's eye roamed, New Republic and Yu-uzhan Vong vessels assailed one another with

lasers and missiles, while enemy drop ships fell obliquely into the well, winglike projections extended and

ablative coral blushed crimson red. Farther from the planet were the new arrivals Commander Ilanka had

mentioned. Two of the ships had tentlike hulls fashioned from some sort of diaphanous material, from

which protruded a dozen or more lightning-forked arms, as if dendrites from an insect-spun nest. The

third resembled nothing so much as a cluster of conjoined bubbles, or egg sacks waiting to hatch.

In the shuttle's passenger cabin, Gyndine's refugees conversed in hushed tones or prayed boldly to

sundry gods. Fear rose off the group in waves that stung Leia's nostrils. She was circulating among them

when a familiar shudder passed through the ship, and she recognized with relief that a tractor beam had

possession of them.

Moments later the shuttle was pulled gently, almost lovingly into the docking bay of the transport.

But even there death reached for them.

During the deboarding process, a pair of coralskippers that had somehow duped the transport's energy

shield came streaking into the hold on a suicide run, skidding across the deck and exploding against a

blast shield raised in the nick of time. Several refugees and crew members were killed, and a score more

were injured.

Two of Leia's female aides who had remained aboard the transport hurried to her as she was picking

herself up off the coral-littered deck. She made plain what she thought of their attempts to comb her hair

back from her face.

"You're worried about my hairstyle," she fulminated, "when people here need immediate medical

attention?"

"But your cheek," one of the women said, chagrined.

Leia had forgotten all about the shrapnel. Of its own accord her hand reenacted the movement it had

made earlier, fingertips tracing the raised edges of the furrow that had been opened. She exhaled wearily

and dropped cross-legged to the deck.

"I'm sorry."

Silently she allowed the wound to be ministered to, suddenly aware of just how exhausted she was.

When C-3PO and Olmahk came within earshot, she said, "I can't remember when I last slept."

"That would be fifty-seven hours, six minutes ago,

Mistress," C-3PO supplied. "Standard time, of course. If you'd prefer, I could express the duration by

other time parts, in which case-"

"Not now, Threepio," Leia said weakly. "In fact, maybe you should immerse yourself in an oil bath before

your moving parts freeze up."

C-3PO cocked his head to one side, arms nearly akimbo. "Why, thank you, Mistress Leia. I was

beginning to fear I would never again hear those words spoken."

"And you," Leia said, glancing at Olmahk. "See to washing that Yuuzhan Vong's blood off your chin."

The Noghri muttered truculently, then nodded curtly and moved off with C-3PO.

Fifty-seven hours, Leia thought.

Truth be told, she hadn't slept soundly since Han had left Coruscant almost a month earlier. A day didn't

pass when she didn't wonder what he was up to, although ostensibly he was searching for Roa, his

onetime mentor, who had been captured by the Yuuzhan Vong during a raid on Ord Mantell's orbital

facility, the Jubilee Wheel, as well as for members of his new Ryn comrade's scattered clan. Was it

possible, Leia wondered, that the Droma mentioned on Gyndine was the same one Han was suddenly

running with?

Reports would occasionally reach her that the Millennium Falcon had been spotted in this system or that

one, but Han had yet to contact her personally.

He hadn't been the same since Chewbacca's death- not that anyone or anything had, especially occurring

when it did, at the start of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, and largely at their hands. It was natural that Han

should mourn Chewie's passing more than anyone, but even Leia had been surprised by the direction he

had taken-or the one his unabashed grief had driven him to take. Where Han had always been cheerfully

roguish, there was an angry gravity to him now. Anakin had been the first target of his father's outrage;

then everyone close to Han had gradually fallen victim to it.

Experts spoke of stages of grief, as if people could be expected to move through them routinely. But in

Han the stages were jumbled together-anger, denial, despair- without a hint of resignation, let alone

acceptance. Han's stasis was what worried Leia more than anything. Though he would be the first to

deny it-vociferously, at that-his grief had fueled a kind of recidivism, a return to the Han of old the lone

Solo, who guarded his sensitivity by keeping himself at arm's length, who claimed not to care about

anyone but himself, who allowed thrill to substitute for feeling.

When Droma-another adventurer-had first entered Han's orbit, Leia had feared the worst. But in getting

to know the Ryn, even slightly, she had taken hea rt. While not a replacement for Chewie-for how could

anyone replace him?-Droma at least presented Han with the option of forging a new relationship, and if

Han could manage that, he just might be able to see his way to reem-bracing his tried-and-true

relationships. Time would tell-about Han, about their marriage, about the Yu-uzhan Vong and the fate of

the New Republic.

With her cheek sporting a strip of itchy synthflesh, Leia took leave of her aides to wander forward into

the passenger hold, where many of the refugees were already claiming areas of deck space. Despite the

battle swirling around the transport, an atmosphere of chatty relief prevailed. Leia spotted the New

Republic envoy to Gyndine and went over to him. A man of distinguished handsomeness, he sat with his

head in his hands.

"I promised I would get everyone offworld," he told Leia sullenly. "I failed them." He shook his head. "I

failed them."

Leia caressed his shoulder in a comforting way. "Awarded the Medal of Honor at the Battle of

Kashyyyk, cited for exemplary service during the Yevethan crisis, former member of the Senate

Advisory Council to the chief of state ..." Leia stopped and smiled. "Save your recriminations for the

Yuuzhan Vong, Envoy. You did more than anyone thought possible."

She moved on, listening in on scraps of conversation, mostly devoted to the uncertain future, rumors

about the horrors of the refugee camps, or criticisms of the New Republic government and military. She

was happy to see that the Ryn had found space for themselves, until she realized that they had been

banished to a dark corner of the hold, and that no one, of any species, had deigned to sit within a meter

of them.

Leia was forced to take a meandering route to them, in and through and sometimes over family groups

and others. She addressed the female Ryn who held the child.

"When you were boarding, I heard someone mention the name Droma. Is that a common name among

your species? I ask only because I happen to know a Ryn named Droma-slightly, at any rate."

"My nephew," the only male among them answered. "We haven't seen him since the Yuuzhan Vong

attacked Ord Mantell. Droma's sister was one of those you ... who chose to remain behind on Gyndine."

He gestured to the infant. "The child is hers."

"Oh, no," Leia said, more to herself. She took a breath and straightened. "I know where your nephew is."

"He's safe then?"

"After a fashion. He's with my husband. They're searching for all of you."

"Ah, sweet irony," the male said. "And now we're further divided."

"As soon as we reach Ralltiir, I'll try to reach my husband."

"Thank you, Princess Leia," the one named Melisma said, catching her completely by surprise.

"Ambassador," she corrected.

They all smiled. "To the Ryn," the male said, "you will forever remain a princess."

The comment warmed and chilled her at once. The Ryn wouldn't have been on Gyndine in the first place

if Leia had not relocated them there from Bilbringi. And what of the six she had been forced to leave

behind to face imprisonment or death? Was she princess or deserter in the eyes of Droma's sister? The

flattering comment had sounded sincere, but it might have been more sweet irony.

Leia was heading for the bridge when the transport sounded general quarters. By the time she reached

the command center, the ship was already being jarred by concussive explosions that tested the mettle of

the shields.

"Ambassador Organa Solo," Commander Ilanka said from his swivel-mounted chair, as violent light

flashed outside the curved viewport. "Glad to have you aboard. It's my understanding that you were last

to board the evacuation ship."

"How much trouble are we in?" she asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

"I'd classify our situation as desperate verging on hopeless. Other than that, we're in fine shape."

"Do we have jump capability?"

"Navicomputer's working on coordinates," the navigator said from her console.

"Coralskippers in pursuit," an enlisted-rating added. Leia glanced at the target-assessment screen, which

displayed twenty or more arrowhead shapes, closing fast on the ship. She turned to look out on Gyndine,

and again she thought about the thousands she had been forced to abandon to fate. Then it suddenly

occurred to her that she hadn't seen Wurth Skidder aboard the shuttle or during her passage through the

transport. She was about to page him over the comm when the evac craft's flight officer stepped onto the

bridge. He remembered Skidder, along with Leia's orders.

"But when you told me to make sure they got aboard, I thought you were referring to the mother and

child, not their rescuer." He showed Leia a docile look. "I apologize, Ambassador, but he didn't have the

slightest interest in coming aboard. Who is he?"

"Someone who thinks he can save the galaxy single-handedly," Leia mumbled.

On Gyndine, explosions began to blossom along the transitor and deep into the planet's dark side. A fiery

speck in the night, the planet's orbital shipyard slowly disintegrated. Leia became dizzy at the sight and

had to steady herself against a bulkhead. The explosions didn't so much stir memories as prompt a

troubling vision of some event yet to come.

A tone sounded from the navicomputer. "Hyper-space coordinates received and locked in," the navigator

announced.

The ship shuddered. Starlight elongated, as if the past were making a desperate bid to forestall the future,

and the transport jumped.

Crouched in the shadows of the smoldering embassy building, Wurth Skidder watched the last of the

troop carriers take to the scudded sky. Thousands of Gyndine's indigenous forces had fallen back to the

gated compound on the off chance of being evacuated with New Republic effectives. Few had been

taken, however, and many of those who had were officers with political ties to Corus-cant or other Core

worlds.

There was still some furious fighting going on in the city, but the majority of ground troops, realizing that

their hopes for salvation had left with the last ship out, had tossed aside their repeating blasters and

stripped off their uniforms in the belief that the Yuuzhan Vong would go easier on noncombatants.

Which just went to show how slowly news traveled to remote worlds, Skidder thought ruefully.

When it came to sacrificing captives to their gods, the enemy drew no such distinctions. In fact, in some

cases a uniform-or at least evidence of a fighting spirit-could mean the difference between the mercifully

quick death the Yuuzhan Vong offered those who measured up to their warlike ideals and the lingering

death they reserved for those taken into captivity. He had heard rumors about captives undergoing

dismemberment and vivisection; others about shiploads of captives being launched into the heart of stars

to ensure victory for the Yuuzhan Vong.

As if the invaders needed a helping hand.

The gasbag, fire-breathing abominations that had torched Gyndine's forests and turned lakes into boiling

cauldrons were gathered on the eastern outskirts of the capital. Flame-carpet warheads couldn't have

done as much damage. Yuuzhan Vong infantry units-reptilian-humanoid Chazrack warriors-had followed

the fire breathers in to clean out pockets of resistance and generally mop up. The sky had actually

brightened slightly, but what light filtered in through smoke and scudding clouds was blotted out by

descending drop ships.

One of them-a mesh tent pierced by crooked sticks-

was hovering over the embassy grounds now. Skidder had just changed positions to get a better vantage

on the ship when its tentlike hull suddenly burst open, releasing a dozen or more huge, rod-shaped and

bristled bundles that fell straight to the ground. Skidder didn't understand that they were living creatures

until he saw the bioluminescent eyespots, twitching antennae, and the hundred pairs of sucker-equipped

legs that sprouted down the length of the segmented bodies.

He observed the creatures in undisguised awe. They had the capacity not only to ambulate forward and

backward, but also to skitter sideways-which they commenced doing at once, creating a living perimeter

around the embassy grounds and moving slowly inward, as a means of forcing everyone toward the

center.

The sight of the creatures was enough to strike fear in the heart of the most valiant, but Skidder had the

Force on his side and was undaunted. Large as the creatures were, he was not without his own grab bag

of abilities, and he could easily vault his way to freedom if he wished. After that it would be a simple

matter to conceal himself from the Yuuzhan Vong. He could set off into the countryside, away from the

devastation, and live off the land, as many of Gyndine's residents had opted to do when word of the

imminent attack had spread. But Wurth Skidder wasn't a forager, and he certainly wasn't a deserter.

The fact that so few had lived to speak of their experiences as captives made it imperative that someone

elect to be taken-someone with more interest in winning the war than in understanding the enemy, as

Caamasi Senator Elegos A'Kla had attempted to do, and been butchered for his efforts.

Danni Quee, an ExGal scientist who had been captured shortly after the Yuuzhan Vong's arrival at the ice

world Helska 4, had told Skidder of the final days of another captive, Skidder's fellow Jedi and close

friend Miko Reglia. Quee had recounted the psychological tortures the Yuuzhan Vong and their tentacled

yammosk- their so-called war coordinator-had inflicted on quiet and unassuming Miko in an attempt to

break him, and of Miko's death during his and Quee's escape.

Vengeance went against the Jedi Code-as the code was taught by Master Skywalker, at any rate.

Vengeance, according to Skywalker, was a path to the dark side. But there were other Jedi Knights, as

powerful as Skywalker in Skidder's estimation, who took issue with some of the Master's teachings. Jedi

Master Kyp Durron, for one. It was whispered, even on Yavin 4 in the wake of the Yuuzhan Vong

invasion, that there were times when darkness had to be fought with darkness. And the Yuuzhan Vong

were nothing if not the blackest evil since Emperor Palpatine.

Skidder was astute enough to recognize that he was motivated in part by a desire to show Skywalker

and the rest that he was not some brash kid but a Jedi Knight of old, willing to put his life on the line-to

sacrifice himself, if necessary-for a greater cause.

He rose from the shadows.

The outsize, insectile creatures loosed from the drop ship had succeeded in herding everyone to the

center. Some of the creatures were beginning to curl themselves into rings, corralling their captives and

employing their numerous sucker-equipped legs to prevent anyone from making over-the-top escapes.

Skidder tossed aside the lightsaber he had fashioned to replace the one he'd lost at Ithor, along with

everything else that might identify him as a Jedi Knight. Then he chose his moment. As one of the

creatures approached, pushing a score of beings in front of it, Skidder rushed forward, infiltrating the

fleeing group before the creature had made a complete circle of itself-and much to the bafflement of a

group of Ryn in whose midst he landed.

As the bioengineered creature joined its head to its tail parts, Skidder found himself pressed face-to-face

with a Ryn female, whose oblique eyes mirrored her terror. He reached down and took her long-fingered

hand.

"Take heart," he said in Basic, "help has arrived."

"Handles just as well as she always did," Han announced confidently, as the newly matte-black

Millennium Falcon left behind a lush little world of green and purple forest.

"A simple coat of paint and you're feeling invulnerable," Droma said, frowning. "Who would have

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Star Wars - [New Jedi Order 05] - [Agents of Chaos 02] - Jedi Eclipse (by James Luceno)

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