Remnant: Force Heretic I (33 page)

Her R2 unit squealed as two plasma volleys reduced her shields to dangerous levels. Just as she was seriously beginning to worry, a flurry of laserfire arced from behind her, scattering her three pursuers. Only one clung on after that, and the pilot who had saved her life soon dispatched it.

“Thanks,” she said over the comlink as the coral-skipper evaporated back to its component molecules. “I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Sticks,” Jag said.

She smiled to herself; she was so relieved to hear his voice that everything else assumed secondary importance. For a moment he came alongside her new XJ3, and she imagined that she could see him through the faceted visor of his clawcraft.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said after a moment. “If you were the Fia and you’d done a deal with the Yuuzhan Vong, but
we
showed up and started fighting your allies, whose side would you fight on?”

“I don’t know, Jag.” She wiped sweat from her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. “Why? Does it matter?”

He paused slightly before answering. “Take a look at your telemetry,” he said.

She did so, and saw multiple launches from three locations across Galantos, followed by formations of ion engine signatures thrusting for space. She couldn’t help it: she felt fatigued all over again.

“Whichever side they’re on,” said Jag, “here they come …”

“Here they come!”

Gilad Pellaeon heard the words a split second before he felt a vibration run through
Widowmaker
as the frigate’s ion engines engaged. Powerful enough to override inertial dampers and communicated via the hull to the fluid in his bacta tank, the vibration made him feel as though the whole world was shaking. He reached out to steady himself against the transparent shell containing the healing fluid, trying to concentrate on the good things about his situation. Yes, his injured body was confined to a bacta tank on an ageing frigate during what might possibly be the most important battle he would ever fight, but at least he still had his faculties about him. His mind was clear; he needed nothing more than that, really.

“Enemy fleet concentrated in sectors three through eight,” said the voice of
Widowmaker
’s duty officer in his ear. He didn’t need the running commentary, but he kept it going when he wasn’t using the communicator in his breath mask to make sure he wasn’t missing anything locally. The mask’s modified visor showed him crisp, three-dimensional views of the action as it unfolded in the system, while sensor pads attached to his hands and wrists enabled him to switch views at will.

“Changing course to adopt primary position.”

Widowmaker
swung about to put the planet of Borosk between itself and the incoming Yuuzhan Vong fleet. A relatively small world, it would have been entirely unremarkable but for its role in the defense of the Empire. A symbolic retention after numerous retreats, it had been heavily armed to ensure it wasn’t retaken by the New Republic, which had in turn armed its own neighboring worlds in case Borosk turned out to be the beginning of another invasion. As a result, the planet was heavily stocked with partially automated planetary turbolasers, ion cannons, and shields, and surrounded by extensive rings of space-based ion mines, all in a constant state of battle readiness. The planet was, in its own way, better defended than Bastion had been—since, in a sane universe, no one would have attacked there
first.

The Imperial Navy Fleet now gathered around Borosk had had just enough time to organize into new task forces and squadrons. The losses in Bastion had been high, and the shock enormous, but discipline was still strong among the corps. Once Flennic had started issuing orders in Pellaeon’s name, all thoughts of dissolution had temporarily vanished, and the command chain had been quickly reestablished. There were enough Star Destroyers left to consolidate the defense around four distinct battle groups, designated by their command vessel names:
Stalwart
, which Pellaeon had not permitted Flennic to retain, had the vanguard of the defense;
Relentless
and
Protector
protected the flanks; and the rear was maintained by
Right to Rule.
There were five other Star Destroyers committed to the defense of Borosk, making nine altogether. The remainder of the navy had stayed with Flennic around Yaga Minor, just in case the Yuuzhan Vong attacked there anyway.
Chimaera
was there, too, undergoing repairs, having finally limped into Yaga
Minor with a severely damaged hyperdrive and numerous other scars—but at least intact.

Despite the absence of his command vessel, Pellaeon felt an old excitement rise in him as he watched the battle groups deploy. That moment immediately prior to battle was simultaneously the most wonderful and the most terrifying. Everything was in place: ships were at the peak of their performance, while pilots were at their sharpest; he could almost tell who was going to win before a single shot had been fired, simply based on the disposition of forces. Sometimes he wished victories could be awarded so easily, without lives lost or resources wasted, or grudges formed …

This was not such a time. In this instance he wanted nothing more than to fight, to quash the enemy’s attack, reduce them to their basic component molecules. And, watching the incoming fleets, he knew they desired the same for their enemy. The Yuuzhan Vong would never share in Gilad Pellaeon’s wish for victory without loss. For them, sacrifice—glorious or otherwise—was fundamental to their belief system. Trying to imagine them without it was like trying to picture Coruscant without buildings.

Stalwart
sent four TIE fighter squadrons to engage the lead ships while they were still recovering from the hyperspace jump. Pellaeon counted two enemy warships at the head of that particular attack—giant ovoids as long as a Star Destroyer with huge coral arms near the nose that sprouted coralskippers like pollen. There were three carrier analogs toward the rear, also branched and budded with coralskippers; these were accompanied by numerous gunships capable of spraying volleys of plasma at anything daring to come too close. There was one battleship analog at each of the two other attacking points, their
ugly, misshapen appearance a blot against the stars. He counted five cruisers and destroyers holding back for the moment, waiting either to swing around the rear later or to provide reinforcements as needed.

Dozens of Yuuzhan Vong fighters launched to intercept the Imperial forces, spewing plasma. Led by Luke Skywalker in his XJ3 X-wing, the TIE squadrons were equipped only with lasers, so stutterfire was not possible. Instead they attacked two or three at a time, the multiple laserfire having a similar effect and overloading the dovin basals of the skips. Yammosk telemetry enabled them to target the central control ships.

Surprised, clearly expecting less efficient resistance, the Yuuzhan Vong warriors began to scatter, either destroyed outright or repulsed. It wasn’t long, though, before the war coordinators in the capital ships reassessed the situation and increased the muscle behind the push into the system. Proton explosions blossomed like white flowers in the vacuum, while magma bolts cut red lines across the void.

“Fall back, Skywalker,” Pellaeon ordered through the comlink in his breath mask. “I think you’ve made your point.”

“I’m going to stay out here a while longer, Gilad,” came the reply.

“Just you be careful, Luke,” he heard Mara pipe up from the
Jade Shadow
, where she and Danni Quee waited on the sunward flank with
Protector.
The healer was on
Widowmaker
with the giant lizard and himself, a half-dead old man who was supposed to be running the show. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Pellaeon might have found the whole thing seriously amusing.

“How’s Jacen coming along?” Luke asked.

“He’s getting results,” Mara said. Her grim tone prompted Pellaeon to take a look.

Jacen Solo, the boy Jedi who had come so delightfully close to besting Moff Flennic, was on
Right to Rule.
In the hours since regrouping at Yaga Minor, thousands of MSE-6 mouse droids had been modified with the Yuuzhan Vong-detecting algorithms the Galactic Alliance had developed and sent scuttling from ship to ship throughout the fleet, identifying three Yuuzhan Vong infiltrators. In analyzing the communications these infiltrators had received from within the fleet, Jacen had been able to expose more than a dozen sympathizers. None had been confronted directly, but all had been posted to the
Right to Rule
and individually summoned to a “staffing meeting” with the intention of seeing their activities brought to an immediate end.

Jacen had set up the meeting in a conference room that looked perfectly innocent, but had in fact been heavily modified with some of the most sophisticated security devices the Empire had to offer, via which Pellaeon was able to follow the proceedings over the monitors set up in his room. Also, nearby, a squad of stormtroopers stood ready to rush in to Jacen’s aid, should he require it. It was a risk, perhaps, to have such a concentration of the enemy in one area, but Jacen felt it was less of a risk than having the same enemy scattered throughout various ships when they were exposed. It would have been harder to coordinate their rounding up, whereas having them all contained in one room presented a controlled situation, more easily contained if something went wrong.

The traitors arrived one by one, staggered at two-minute intervals to ensure that they wouldn’t meet in the corridor outside and suspect the trap they were walking into. Jacen sat patiently at the front of the room, saying nothing as each one entered.

The disguised aliens were the last to enter. The first came into the room a full five minutes after all the traitors had been seated. She breezed easily in, noting those seated around the large table in a single glance. Her expression was unreadable, and so human that Pellaeon could scarcely credit that it wasn’t in fact her real face, but rather an example of the biotechnological masks the Yuuzhan Vong called ooglith masquers. She was, to all appearances, a tall, plain woman with long, gray hair tied back in a severe bun, with nothing remarkable about her at all.

But there was something in the way she hesitated slightly when she caught sight of her human sympathizers that convinced Pellaeon she wasn’t all she appeared to be.

“Greetings, Fiula Blay,” Jacen said from the front. He continued to lean against the podium as he spoke, his casual demeanor oozing disrespect. “Won’t you take a seat while we wait on the arrival of the others?”

The woman glared at him, but did as she was asked without comment. Pellaeon noticed the beginnings of fear in the eyes of four of the spies as they recognized the leader of their particular resistance cell.

“What’s going on here?” one of them demanded. “You have no right to keep us here like this!”

“
Keep
you here?” Jacen repeated with an exaggerated frown. “You make it sound as though you were prisoners. Why should you think that?”

The man swallowed but said nothing more.

“You’ve been called here so we can have a little chat,” Jacen went on. “That’s all.”

“Fine,” another said sharply. This one wore the uniform of an intelligence coordinator. “Then let’s get on with it, shall we?”

“When we’re all here,” Jacen said calmly.

“We haven’t got time for this,” he went on angrily, making to stand. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on out there!”

Jacen stood up straight and took a step forward. “That’s precisely why we’re here,” he said, his eyes leveled evenly at the traitor.

The man returned to his seat with a grunt of complaint and fell silent.

“You could at least tell us who you are,” said a third, a female security officer.

“Can’t you guess?” Jacen said.

The door opened at this point, and the second of the Yuuzhan Vong entered, this time in the disguise of a portly corporal seconded from the
Relentless.
He, too, hesitated when he saw the group gathered before him, but like Fiula Blay he kept his expression tightly controlled.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked. “What am I doing here? I should be out there, where I’m needed—”

“All will be explained,” Jacen said, pointing to an empty seat. “Please, sit.”

The tension within the room mounted as everyone waited uncomfortably for the last of the infiltrators to arrive. Nothing was said, but the body language of those around the table spoke volumes. Pellaeon estimated that perhaps eight of the eleven sympathizers had already figured out what was happening, with the remaining three probably just having the beginnings of suspicion in their gut. It showed in their furtive eye movements, their flushed expressions, and the way they squirmed uneasily in their seats. The only ones who didn’t flinch or show any concern were the two disguised Yuuzhan Vong. What was going on in their minds was anybody’s guess.

Finally, the door hissed open and the third Yuuzhan Vong walked in. An enormous man with shoulders as
wide as a Wookiee’s, “Torvin Xyn” took in the scene instantly, his expression breaking into a snarl as soon as his eyes fell upon Jacen.

“Jeedai!”
he hissed. “I can smell you!”

A number of those seated started to stand as Torvin Xyn’s skin peeled away from his face, revealing the scarred and snarling visage of the Yuuzhan Vong beneath. The skin covering his chest and arms rippled, and suddenly there was an amphistaff in his hands.

Jacen took a step back toward the podium. “There is no need for this,” he said. “Nobody need be harmed!”

But even as he spoke, the Yuuzhan Vong let loose an unintelligible roar and launched himself at Jacen. Almost inaudible beneath the alien’s deafening war cry was the distinctive
snap-hiss
of Jacen’s green-bladed lightsaber extending. He brought it up between them in a bright blur, sweeping in an arc to deflect the intended blow to his neck from the amphistaff. Then, shifting his weight back onto his right leg, he moved to one side, just enough to miss the charge of the giant alien. The Yuuzhan Vong swept his amphistaff down and around to cut at Jacen’s legs as he passed but the Jedi Knight was already off the ground by that point, kicking outward with his left leg to knock the alien off balance. Amphistaff and lightsaber clashed again as the two other spies burst out of their disguises and joined the fray. Realizing they had been discovered, the human sympathizers fell about in a panic.