Han Solo scowled and shook a crooked finger at Tahiri. “Kid,” he drawled, “I hope you aren’t counting on another lucky break your whole life, because you’ve just used up whatever you may have had coming.”
“Easy, Han,” Leia interposed. “Anyway, look who’s talking. They don’t call it Solo luck for nothing.”
“ ‘They’ don’t know what they’re talking about,” Han replied. “I’ve never needed luck—I’ve always depended on skill.”
“Of course you have, dear,” Leia said, raising her eyebrows.
“Yeah, well, I—anyway, that’s not the issue,” Han grumbled. “The issue is you, young lady, flying off against good advice to a planet that’s always been trouble for this family, alone, running past a Yuuzhan Vong frigate in an X-wing—”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Tahiri pointed out. “The frigate was sort of between me and escape.”
“Sure you had a choice. From what you say, they probably didn’t even know you were there—they were after their own runaways. You had a whole planet to hide on. You could have picked a better opportunity to leave—like after they did. It’s a real miracle that you got out of the system, jumping on a half-fried engine—it’s amazing you didn’t end up on Tatooine. And Ylesia. And Bonadan. What was your blazing hurry?”
“I made a promise,” Tahiri said.
“A promise? To what, a marsh spider?”
“No. To a Shamed One.”
“A Yuuzhan Vong?” His tone was incredulous, but then his face registered his mistake. Everyone was still getting used to exactly who she was now.
That didn’t mean she was going to let him off the hook. “I made a promise to a person,” she said. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
Han closed his eyes and looked momentarily very, very tired. “If I could name the times I’ve heard that right thing to do line … Tahiri, you’re too young for this. You’ve been through a lot. Can’t you just—just—take a rest?”
“Good advice,” Leia interposed, taking Tahiri by the shoulders. “Can’t you see how tired she is? Why don’t we talk about this after she’s been to the ’fresher and caught a nap? It can wait that long, can’t it, Tahiri?”
“Yes,” Tahiri said.
“But—” Han began, but Leia cut him off.
“My husband is just trying to tell you he was worried about you and he’s glad you’re home.”
“I know,” Tahiri said. “And I appreciate it.”
Han’s face softened, and then set into lines of reluctant acceptance. “Well, yeah. But I still think—”
“Why don’t you get cleaned up, Tahiri, and we’ll have a bit of dinner. We can talk more then.”
“It is good to have you back, Mistress Tahiri,” the golden droid assured her as she made her way toward the refresher.
“Thanks, Threepio,” she said. “It’s good to be back.”
She meant it. She’d grown up on Tatooine and in a Yuuzhan Vong creèche, she’d studied the ways of the Jedi on Yavin 4, but more and more the Millennium Falcon felt like home. It was a feeling both comfortable and unsettling, but from what she’d gathered, that was a large part of what home was all about.
“I hope you weren’t injured in your travels,” C-3PO went on.
“No, I’m just a little banged up. And tired.”
“Well, now you can rest. And, I must say, Onih k’leth mof’qey.”
That sent a little shock through her. “Don’t—” she began, but cut herself off. This was not an abomination—it was 3PO.
C-3PO caught the sudden anger in her tone, however. “I’m dreadfully sorry, Mistress Tahiri. I only wanted to—”
“Make me feel welcome,” she guessed, “both as a human and a Yuuzhan Vong.”
“Yes, mistress.”
“It’s okay, Threepio. I’m still working the bugs out of this. It’s just, hearing a droid speak that language—”
“Oh, yes. I understand how the Yuuzhan Vong feel about droids. In the future I shan’t—”
“No. Like I said, it’s okay. These are exactly the things I have to face.” And hope I can.
“Very well,” C-3PO said, with extravagant relief. “But, if I may ask, is the integration of your former personalities … complete?”
Tahiri smiled. “It’s complete. But it’s like—like being raised by parents who taught you one set of values, and then learning a different set of values in school. Which is right? There are conflicts in what most people feel and believe. I’m no different in that respect, maybe just a little more extreme. Do you understand?”
“I believe so.”
“Part of me was raised to believe that machines—especially thinking machines—are abominations. But that’s just something I learned. It’s not part of who I am. It’s not part of the Yuuzhan Vong on any intrinsic level, either—it’s just what the leaders and priests teach us as crèchelings. It’s something that can be unlearned, that must be unlearned, because it’s wrong. You’re my friend, Threepio, or at least I hope you are. And if, now and then, I have an unthinking reaction to you, I truly hope you can understand and forgive me.”
“Oh, very easily,” C-3PO said. “Thank you for explaining it to me.” His voice shifted back to consternation. “Oh, heavens, I’m holding you up when you should be resting. I’ll go now.”
“Wait, Threepio.”
“Is there something else?”
“Just this.” And she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.
“Oh, my,” C-3PO said. But he sounded pleased.
She woke, not knowing exactly where she was. She lay still in the darkness, letting the world return to her, solidify about her, fearing something but not knowing what.
The Millennium Falcon, she thought. Right. That’s where I am.
She glanced at the table chrono and realized she’d been asleep for almost a standard day. Shaking off the dream-shroud, she pulled on her Jedi robes, visited the ’fresher, and then went looking for Han and Leia.
She found them in the lounge, discussing something in low and somewhat heated tones. She coughed softly, not wanting to eavesdrop.
The two turned toward her.
“Finally up, I see,” Leia said. Her voice sounded a bit odd.
“Yeah,” Tahiri replied. “I guess I was more exhausted than I thought.”
“You ought to be,” Han grunted.
“I’m ready to talk now, if that’s okay.”
“Why not?” Han muttered. “Have a seat.”
She slid in next to Leia and clasped her hands together in front of her, trying to think how to start.
“You said something about a promise,” Leia prompted.
“Right.” Briefly, Tahiri laid out the events on Dagobah. “The Shamed Ones were looking for a planet,” she said, when she was done with the narrative. “A planet their Prophet thinks may bring them redemption.”
“Dagobah? Why Dagobah?”
“These Shamed Ones sort of worship the Jedi. They found out somehow that Anakin and Luke had been there—that it had something to do with their training.”
Han raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. How exactly would they know that?”
“That’s not hard,” Leia said. “The Yuuzhan Vong have been obsessed with the Jedi from the very beginning. We know they have good intelligence. Anyway, the story about Luke meeting Yoda there isn’t exactly a well-kept secret.”
“But they were mistaken,” Tahiri said. “Dagobah isn’t the world the Shamed Ones are looking for.”
Han had the same expression on his face he usually wore playing sabacc. “Oh? And what world do you think they are looking for?”
“The same one Master Skywalker was looking for. And found. Zonama Sekot.”
Han’s eyes widened slightly. Then he puffed and raised his hands in a gesture of frustration.
“Leia,” he said. “You tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Leia pursed her lips. “Kenth Hamner contacted us while you were asleep, on a heavily coded channel. He wants to talk to you.”
Kenth Hamner. “The liaison between the Jedi and military?” She couldn’t quite picture his face. She seemed to remember it was long.
“Right.”
“Did he say what it was about?”
“Not exactly,” Leia said cautiously. “But it involves Zonama Sekot—and a dissident movement within the Yuuzhan Vong.”
Han looked at her earnestly. “Tahiri, whatever it is, you don’t have to do it.”
“Of course I do,” Tahiri said. “I promised the Shamed One—”
“You promised him you would tell his Prophet about Dagobah,” Han interrupted. “You made no promises concerning Zonama Sekot.”
Tahiri smiled slightly. “My promise was one of izai, not one of strict legality.”
“What?”
“Izai is the essence of a promise. The Shamed One thought he had found the planet foretold. I promised him that I would take this news back to his Prophet. But Dagobah isn’t the planet foretold. Therefore, the izai—the essence of my promise—requires me to carry the news that the planet of prophecy has been found.”
Han pushed his palms into his face. “This is making my head hurt,” he said.
“I think I need to speak to Kenth Hamner,” Tahiri said firmly.
“We’re already on the way there,” Han grunted. “But I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
“No,” Han said, a little angrily, “you think you know what you’re doing. It’s a conceit born out of being young. Jaina thinks she knows what she’s doing. Anakin thought he knew what he was doing.”
“Anakin did know what he was doing,” Tahiri said, softly. “If he hadn’t done it, there might not be a single Jedi alive today. I know I wouldn’t be here. Didn’t you know what you were doing when you came back to save Master Skywalker at the Death Star all those years ago?”
“I was older than you,” Han said, rising from the table. He got up and went toward the cockpit. But he stopped and turned, with one hand on the hatch.
“And, to answer your question,” he said, “no, I didn’t have the faintest idea what I was doing.” He chuckled briefly, shook his head, and vanished into the corridor.
Kenth Hamner did indeed have a long face. He also had a firm handshake, and an office so spare it might have been a storeroom. The view was interesting, though. His window looked down upon a landscape of bloodred and black swirled together, laced over with silver coils and meanders of tide creeks and pools. Beyond that, jagged black mountains sawed at a sky the same metallic color as the water.
Land was scarce on Mon Calamari, but often dramatic.
“Salts,” Hamner said, noticing her interest. “When this island was forming, there was a lot of volcanic activity—and geysers the size of volcanoes. Those deposits are millions of years old.”
Tahiri nodded, preoccupied. What would the old Tahiri have thought of this view? Or Riina? She found it beautiful, but where did beauty come from? Not from the Force, because the Yuuzhan Vong didn’t know the Force, and yet had concepts of beautiful and ugly.
It occurred to Tahiri that she had seen many things she thought of as beautiful since her integration, but nothing she considered truly ugly. Was that strange? Probably. But maybe ugly was a smaller concept than beautiful, and the overlapping tastes of her dual origin had virtually canceled it out.
Kenth had turned his attention to Han and Leia, so she continued her regard of the landscape.
“It’s going to be a big push,” Kenth was saying. “Exactly how big I’m not at liberty to say.”
“So soon after Fondor?” Han asked.
“The Yuuzhan Vong are off balance. It’s a good time.”
“Yeah,” Han said doubtfully, “they’re trying to defend too many worlds with too few forces. I hope the Alliance isn’t about to make the same mistake.”
“Don’t worry. This goal is doable.”
“It’s not an attack on Coruscant itself?” Leia asked.
“Nothing so ambitious,” Kenth said.
Tahiri felt Leia’s relief in the Force, and Han’s, too. An attack on Yuuzhan’tar would exact a horrific cost in ships and personnel, and whatever was going on at the moment, Twin Suns—and Jaina—were sure to be in the thick of it. After her “vacation” from the military, Jaina had insisted on rejoining the fight. Tahiri had heard from her only once since she left, right after the Battle of Fondor.
She missed Jaina. Han and Leia’s relief was her own.
“Well, looks like the rest of the gang is here,” a new voice interposed.
Tahiri spun from the window. A shortish, neatly goateed man stood there.
“Corran!”
“In the aging flesh,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, Tahiri.”
The surge of joy she’d felt at seeing the former CorSec officer faded a little at the odd turn of phrase. So he knew she had changed, of course—and he had that guarded look in his eyes. That was Corran—suspicion was as natural a part of him as it was her. Still, it felt bad.
He’s wondering if I’m friend or foe, she realized. That felt worse.
“I do remember you, Corran,” she said, trying not to let the hurt and anger show in her voice. “I’m just happy you’re still talking to me after the mess I got you into at Eriadu.” She hoped the shared reference would set him more at ease.
“There was plenty of blame to go around,” Corran said. “Anyway, I turned out okay. The Givin have written a poetic theorem about you, did you know that?”
“I shudder to think what that even means,” Tahiri said.
Hamner cleared his throat. “I hate to break up the reunion, but—”
“Yeah,” Han said. “What’s this about, exactly?”
Hamner set something on the desk.
Tahiri recognized it immediately. “A Yuuzhan Vong qahsa,” she said.
Hamner nodded, and stroked the cilia-covered knobs in the back. A face suddenly extruded from the front, a Yuuzhan Vong visage in miniature. Though the detail wasn’t that of a holograph, it was still clear that the face was horribly disfigured—and not in the way the Yuuzhan Vong preferred.
“A Shamed One,” she murmured.
“We got this from a Yuuzhan Vong courier two days ago,” he said.
“Intercepted?” Corran asked.
“No,” Hamner replied. “It was sent to us.”
“Sent?” Han echoed. “What’s the story? Another ultimatum?”
“No. It’s not from the official command structure. For some time now we’ve known that there is an underground movement within the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“It’s from the Prophet,” Tahiri said.
Kenth raised an eyebrow. “Yes. We’ve heard of him, of course, but it’s been unclear exactly what his goals are. While any division within the Yuuzhan Vong weakens them, we’ve never known what the rebel attitude toward the Galactic Alliance is. We know the Jedi figure into their creed, but little more than that.”
“Anakin started it,” Tahiri said. “Or, in a way he did. He and Vua Rapuung, when they rescued me on Yavin.”
Hamner nodded. “There were inchoate movements after that, yes, but it’s more recently—with the rise of this prophet, ‘Yu’shaa’—that the resistance has really taken on substance. He seems to have unified the malcontents. There are even reports of sabotage and assassination, especially on Coruscant.” He folded his hands. “It’s not the origin of the cult that concerns us right now, but rather the motives of the Prophet himself. Until this”—he nodded at the qahsa—“we haven’t had much to go on.”
“And now you do?” Leia asked.
“I’ll let you decide for yourself.” He touched the qahsa again, and the face animated, speaking in accented Basic.
“I greet you,” the face said. “I am known as Yu’shaa, the Prophet. It may be that you have heard of me, that I am the leader of the Shamed Ones, those accursed by the gods. That is true, so far as it goes. We are treated as Shamed by our brethren—or by many of them. But we are not accursed. Many of us were once honored and commended by our people. Many of us made great sacrifices for Supreme Overlord Shimrra. Yet we are treated with contempt because our bodies reject the modifications and implants the Yuuzhan Vong have chosen as symbols of rank and pride.
“Before coming to this galaxy, we had little to hope for except dishonorable death. We believed the lies our leaders told us. But now the membranes have been torn from our eyes. We see that we may be redeemed by redeeming our people.
“The Jedi taught us that. The Jedi show us the way. They fight not to show their strength, but to help the weak. You may know that Anakin Solo fought beside one of our own, Vua Rapuung, and restored his honor. Thanks to the Jedi, we are not Shamed. Rather, it is Shimrra and the others who lead who are accursed, who have set our people—and the people of this galaxy—on a course that can bring only Shame to us all.
“The Jedi have helped us in the past. They have shown us a glimpse of the true path. I have seen in dreams and visions where that path leads. It leads to a planet, a planet that can heal and redeem us, that can bring the mighty down and raise up the humble and end the terror we all find ourselves enmeshed in. It is the planet of prophecy. It is Zonama Sekot.
“I have seen this planet, but the gods have not granted me the ability to find it. I do not despair, because I believe the Jedi know where it is.
“Here is what I beg of you: that you take me, and me alone, to the planet of prophecy, so that I may see it for myself, so I can know that my vision was true. I wish also to speak with the Jedi, and seek their counsel and wisdom.
“Unfortunately, I do not have the means to come and go as I please. I live within the clenched fist of Shimrra’s hand, and shall need help escaping. On the planet you once called Coruscant, I await your judgment. This qahsa contains a schedule of times I might meet you in a secluded place. It also contains what I have been able to gather about the planetary defenses of Yuuzhan’tar. I give this as a gesture of good faith, but be wary—I am unsure how complete the information is.
“I look to the stars, Jedi. I look to you. All our worlds can be better, I am certain. I have information that can be of benefit—which might end the war—but I cannot use it unless I reach Zonama Sekot. I may not speak of it here—if this falls into the wrong hands, the danger will be great, and I will not betray others. Heed my humble call, I beg you.”
With that the figure seemed to lean forward, as if bowing, and then the image froze.
“It’s a trick,” Han blurted into the following silence. “You all see that, right?”
“It could be,” Hamner said. “But the Prophet is real. His opposition to Shimrra is real. This could be a genuine offer.”
“He’s not offering anything,” Han replied. “He’s just asking. He’s asking us to fly right to the heart of the Yuuzhan Vong empire and try to attempt some kind of crazy rescue. It’s a setup. Couldn’t be clearer.”
“It’s not a setup,” Tahiri said.
All eyes turned toward her.
“Tahiri—” Leia began.
Tahiri pushed ahead. “His followers are already looking for Zonama Sekot. I met some of them on Dagobah.”
“Means nothing,” Han replied. “How do we even know this guy on that thing is actually this ‘Prophet’? Shimrra has a pretty good spy network with us. How much better do you think it must be among his own people? He figures this Prophet guy would intrigue us, and now he’s baited the trap with him.”
“I don’t think so,” Tahiri said. “I think that was the real thing.”
“Based on what?”
“A feeling.”
“A feeling.” Han rolled his eyes. “A feeling.”
“Kenth,” Leia said, “what about the information on the qahsa? The data about planetary defenses. Can we check it out?”
“I have, to a certain extent. It looks good. We were able to get a drone in and out through some of the weak spots he described. And we have a secret weapon of our own—a captured Yuuzhan Vong ship.”
“You’re really thinking about biting at this?” Han asked, incredulously.
“We think the right team would have a shot.”
“What team?” Leia asked.
“He means Corran and me,” Tahiri said.
“Correct.”
“Wait one vaping minute,” Corran said, before even Han could object. “I thought we’d agreed she would only advise beforehand.”
Leia turned to the Corellian. “You were already briefed on this, Corran?”
“Yes,” the pilot admitted. “Admiral Sorr reassigned me to the mission, but we didn’t discuss this.”
“I’m laying it on the table now so we can talk about it,” Kenth said. “Tahiri speaks their language and knows their ways. She’s flown ships like this before. I doubt very much this mission could succeed without her.”
“Well, it’s blinking well going to,” Corran replied. “Or I’m out.”
“I’ll do it,” Tahiri said.
“No, you won’t,” Han exploded.
Tahiri sighed. “You mean a lot to me, Captain Solo. Both of you do. I’ve never really had parents—not human ones, anyway—and I respect you. But this is something I have to do. Jaina and Jacen do their part. Anakin did his part.”
“And look how that turned out.” Han was trying to sound flip, but she felt the stab of Han’s pain at the mention of his youngest son.
“That’s the chance we take,” she said softly. “It’s the chance you’ve been taking all your life. I know you don’t want to lose anyone else. I know you worry about Jaina and Jacen, and you don’t want to add worry for me to that. But this war has gone on far too long. If things keep going like they’re going, it will only end when one side is exterminated. We have to find another way. That’s why Luke and Jacen went to find Zonama Sekot.”
“Yes, about that,” Leia said. “Hasn’t it occurred to anyone that this might be more than a trap for a Jedi or two? That it might be a prelude to another attack on Zonama Sekot?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Corran said. “If I figure this ‘Prophet’ isn’t operating in good faith, I’ll do what’s necessary to fix things.”
“Luke should have something to say about this.”
“I tried to contact him,” Kenth said. “But there is some problem with the HoloNet in that sector.”
“We just finished saving that relay,” Han said. “It should be working.”
“But it isn’t,” Kenth said. “We’ve sent a team to check it out. In any case, we can’t talk to Luke.”
“We’ll have to use our own common sense, then,” Han said. “You’re walking into this playing by Yuuzhan Vong rules, Corran.”
“Maybe. That’s why I want to do it alone.”
“Maybe you don’t trust me,” Tahiri said.
Corran smiled. “I didn’t trust you even when I knew who you were. Your impulsive actions nearly cost me my life on a couple of occasions, remember? I know you mean well—”
So much for there being plenty of blame to go around, Tahiri thought.
“I’ve helped betray the Yuuzhan Vong once already,” she pointed out.
“You helped betray a military commander to save yourself and your friends. Tell me—if we discovered the only way to win this war was to kill every Yuuzhan Vong, would you do it?”
“No. Neither would Luke or Jacen.”
Corran nodded and stroked his beard. “Don’t dodge. What if it really came down to them or us?”
“There is no them or us, Corran. Do you really think the Shamed Ones want this war? Do you really think that malice is built into the Yuuzhan Vong at the hereditary level?”
“It’s built into their culture.”
“Exactly. And culture can change.”
“Sometimes,” he said. “If people want it to, and work at it.”
“And that’s what this mission is all about, right? If we let this door close, we may never see another one open.”
“Now wait,” Han said. “We’ve gotten a little off track here. We never settled that Tahiri can do this.”
“Yes, we did,” Leia said. Her voice was equal parts pride and sadness, and it sent a chill up Tahiri’s spine. For an instant, looking at Han in his frustration and Leia in her acceptance, she felt a love for them so powerful it nearly made her cry.
“Thank you,” she said.
Han crossed his arms and puffed out a breath of air. “Well, fine—then we’re going, too.”
“We’d rather have you here, in reserve, when we start the new action,” Kenth said.
Han’s brow wrinkled in consternation and Tahiri felt a sudden new ambivalence. Whatever was coming up, Jaina would probably be involved. Would Han want to be away, in unfamiliar territory, protecting her, when his own daughter might need him?
But he was Han, and he’d already started. “Hey,” he said to Kenth. “Don’t start thinking I’m regular military. If Corran won’t go—”
“Oh, space it,” Corran said. “I’ll go. Now, let’s see this ship we’re going to use.”