The Final Prophecy: Edge of Victory III Read online

  As the bestselling New Jedi Order series approaches its epic climax, the secrets of the Yuuzhan Vong—who they are, where they came from, what terrible forces drive them—are at last exposed.

  But will this knowledge aid the Jedi … or doom them?

  Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: The Final Prophecy is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A Del Rey® Book

  Published by The Random House Publishing Group

  Copyright © 2003 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated.

  All rights reserved. Used under authorization.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  www.starwars.com

  www.delreydigital.com

  eISBN: 978-0-345-46496-5

  v3.1

  For Dave Gross

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Shelly Shapiro, Sue Rostoni, and Jim Luceno for holding this whole thing together. The rest of the Star Wars authors for giving me great books to follow. Enrique Guerrero, Michael Kogge, Dan Wallace, Felia Hendersheid, Helen Keiev, and Leland Chee for superior comments and editing. Kris Boldis for reality checks on the Star Wars universe. Finally, thanks to all my friends in Savannah for their support, especially Charlie Williams and the rest of the gang in the Savannah Fencing Club.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Part One: Vision

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Part Two: Passage

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Part Three: Transfiguration

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by this Author

  Introduction to the Star Wars Expanded Universe

  Excerpt from Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: The Unifying Force

  Introduction to the Old Republic Era

  Introduction to the Rise of the Empire Era

  Introduction to the Rebellion Era

  Introduction to the New Republic Era

  Introduction to the New Jedi Order Era

  Introduction to the Legacy Era

  Star Wars Novels Timeline

  DRAMATIS

  PERSONAE

  Corran Horn; Jedi Knight (male human)

  Erli Prann; adventurer (male human)

  Garm Bel Iblis; general (male human)

  Gilad Pellaeon; Grand Admiral (male human)

  Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

  Harrar; priest (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

  Mynar Devis; Interdictor captain (male human)

  Nen Yim; master shaper (female Yuuzhan Vong)

  Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Onimi; Shamed One (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Princess Leia Organa Solo; diplomat (female human)

  Qelah Kwaad; shaper (female Yuuzhan Vong)

  Sien Sovv; admiral (male Sullustan)

  Supreme Overlord Shimrra (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Tahiri Veila; Jedi Knight (female human)

  Wedge Antilles; general (male human)

  PROLOGUE

  Three kilometers beneath the surface of Yuuzhan’tar—the world once known as Coruscant—the sound of chanting drifted up a shaft nearly as wide as it was deep, the melancholy strains yearning toward the few distant stars that could be seen from the bottom. In the pale blue light of lumen reeds, the faces of the chanters appeared ravaged, their bodies misshapen.

  These were the Shamed Ones of the Yuuzhan Vong, and they chanted to their Prophet.

  Nom Anor felt his bile rise at the sight. Even after all this time as the “Prophet,” it was difficult to shake the long years of contempt he had held for them.

  But they were his hope, now. They were his army. Once, not long ago, he had dared to dream that with them behind him he could pull Shimrra—Supreme Overlord of the Yuuzhan Vong—from his polyp throne, cast him into the pits, and assume his place.

  But there had been setbacks. His eyes and ears within Shimrra’s palace had been uncovered and killed. More of his followers were discovered every day, and fewer answered the call.

  Their faith was wavering, and it was time to give it back to them.

  “Hear me!” he called, his voice soaring above the Prayer of Redemption. “Hear the voice of prophecy!”

  The chanting subsided, and an eager silence descended.

  “I have fasted,” he said. “I have meditated. Last night I sat here, beneath the stars, waiting for I knew not what. And in the darkest hours, a great light fell about me, a cleansing light, the light of redemption. I looked up and there, where the stars gaze down upon us, was an orb—a world, a planet in the skies above us. Its beauty made me tremble, and its power pressed down on me. I felt love and terror at once. And then those emotions subsided, and I felt—belonging. I knew that the planet itself was alive, welcoming me. It is the planet of the source, the planet of the Jeedai, their secret temple and fount of their knowledge and wisdom—and I saw us, the Shamed, walking with the Jeedai upon its surface, one with them, one with the planet.”

  He dropped his tone from singsong to a near growl. “And in the distance, I heard Shimrra’s wail of despair, for he knows this planet—this living planet—is our salvation and his doom. And he knows it will come for him, one day, because it will come for us.”

  He lowered his hands, and for a moment the silence prevailed. Then a great roar went up, keen and joyful, and Nom Anor heard what he most wanted to hear—the sound of hope, the cry of the zealot—his name on the lips of a multitude.

  What matter that he had put the story together from a few conversations and rumors he had collected from Shimrra’s palace before his informant died? There was a planet, rumored to be alive in some unusual way. Shimrra was terrified of it, and had had the commander who brought the news of it slaughtered out of hand, along with all his crew. His story would give his people hope. It would encourage them to fight. And when they were captured, and told the prophecy to their punishers, it would get back to Shimrra, and bring his fear back home.

  Better, Nom Anor had heard from old sources in the Galactic Alliance that the Jedi had mounted a search for just such a planet. What they wanted with it he did not
know, but it seemed the planet had repelled at least one Yuuzhan Vong battle group, so perhaps its people had potent weapons.

  In any event, rumor would build on rumor, reinforcing the veracity of his vision, strengthening the resolve of his followers, knitting their single strands into ropes and the ropes into cables until they were strong enough to knot around Shimrra’s neck and strangle him.

  Strength swept through him as the sound of his adopted name built toward the heavens. He looked out over them, and this time was much less offended by their faces.

  PART ONE

  VISION

  ONE

  She was being followed.

  She paused and wiped a damp wisp of yellow hair from her forehead, touching in passing the scars that marked her as a member of Domain Kwaad. Her green eyes scanned through the many-legged gnarltrees, but her stalkers weren’t yet showing themselves to the usual senses. They were waiting for something—reinforcements, probably.

  She hissed a mild shaper’s curse under her breath and started off again, picking her way over moldering logs, through sluggish mists and dense brakes of hissing cane. The air was a wet fever, and the chirps and trills and bubbling gulps from canopy and marsh were oddly comforting. She kept her pace the same—there was no reason to let them know she was on to them, not yet. She did alter her path subtly—no point in going to the cave until this was dealt with.

  Or I could lead them there, she mused, attack them while they deal with their inner demons …

  No. That seemed somehow like sacrilege. Yoda had come here. Luke Skywalker had, too, and so had Anakin. Now it was her turn. Tahiri’s turn.

  Anakin’s parents hadn’t very much liked the idea of her coming to Dagobah alone, but she’d managed to convince them of the necessity. She believed that the human and Yuuzhan Vong personalities that had once shared her body had become one seamless entity. It felt that way, felt right. But Anakin had seen a vision of her, a melding of Jedi and Yuuzhan Vong, and it hadn’t been a pretty vision. She’d thought at first, after the joining that had nearly driven her mad, that she had avoided that outcome. But before she moved on, before she put those she loved at risk, she had to consider the possibility that the fusion of Tahiri Veila with Riina of Domain Kwaad was a step in the fulfillment of that vision.

  Anakin, after all, had known her better than anyone. And Anakin had been very strong.

  If the creature he had seen was lurking in her, the time to face it was now, not later.

  So she’d come here, to Dagobah, where the Force was so strong it almost seemed to sing aloud. The cycle of life and death and new birth was all around here, none of it twisted by Yuuzhan Vong biotechnology, none of it poisoned by the machines, greed, and exploitation all too native to this galaxy. She’d come to visit the cave to explore her inner self and see what she was really made of.

  But she had also come to Dagobah to meditate on the alternatives. What Anakin had seen was all of the worst of Yuuzhan Vong and Jedi traits bundled into one being. Avoiding becoming that was paramount, but she had a goal beyond—to find the balance, to embody the best of her mixed heritage. Not just for herself, but because the reconciliation of her dual identity had left her with one firm belief—that the Yuuzhan Vong and the peoples of the galaxy they had invaded could learn a lot from each other, and they could live in peace. She was sure of it. The only question was how to make it happen.

  The Yuuzhan Vong would never create industrial wastelands like Duro, Bonadan, or Eriadu. On the other hand, what they did to life—breaking it and twisting it until it suited their needs, wiping it out entirely when it didn’t please—was really no better. It wasn’t that they loved life, but that they hated machines.

  There had to be some sort of common ground, some pivot point that could open the eyes of both sides and end the ongoing terror and destruction of the war.

  The Force was key to that understanding. The Yuuzhan Vong were somehow blind to it. If they could actually feel the Force around them, if they could feel the wrongness of their creations, they might find a better path, one less bent on destruction. If the Jedi could feel the Yuuzhan Vong in the Force, they might find—not better ways to fight them—but paths to conciliation.

  She needed more than that, though. It wasn’t enough to know what was wrong—she also had to know how to make things right.

  Tahiri had no delusions of grandeur. She was no savior, no prophet, no super-Jedi. She was the result of a Yuuzhan Vong experiment gone wrong. But she did understand both sides of the problem, and if there was any chance she could help Master Skywalker find the solution her galaxy so desperately needed—well, she had to take it. It was a role she accepted with humility and great caution. Those trying to do good often committed the most atrocious crimes.

  They were gaining on her, getting clumsier. Soon she would have to do something.

  They must have followed her to Dagobah. How?

  Or maybe they had known where she was going before she left. Maybe she had been betrayed. But that meant Han and Leia—

  No. There was another answer. Paranoid reflexes were a survival trait growing up in a crèche, but even deeper instincts told her that her friends—adopted parents, almost—could never do such a thing. Someone had been watching her, someone she hadn’t noticed. Peace Brigade maybe. Probably. They would imagine they could curry a lot of favor by turning her over to Shimrra.

  She twisted her way through a maze of gnarltrees and then clambered quickly and silently up their cablelike roots. They had once been legs, those roots, as she’d learned when she came here less than a decade and more than a lifetime ago. The immature form of the tree was a sort of spider that lost its mobility in adulthood.

  She’d been with Anakin, here to face his trial, to discover if having the name of his grandfather would bring him the same fate.

  I miss you Anakin, she thought. More now than ever.

  About four meters off the ground, she secreted herself in a hollow and waited. If she could simply avoid them, she would. At one level her instincts cried out for battle, but at a deeper level she knew that her Yuuzhan Vong fighting reflexes had inevitable connections with fury, and she was here to avoid becoming Anakin’s vision, not embrace it. There was a part of her plan that she hadn’t told Han and Leia about—the part where, if the cave confirmed her worst fears, she would cripple her X-wing beyond repair and spend the rest of her life on the jungle planet.

  Perhaps, like the spiders, she would sink her limbs into the swamp and become a tree.

  She reached out with the Force, to better assess her pursuit.

  They weren’t there. And she suddenly realized that she hadn’t felt them in the Force, but with her Vongsense. It had come so naturally she hadn’t even questioned it.

  That could only mean her pursuers were Yuuzhan Vong, maybe six of them, give or take one or two. Vongsense wasn’t as precise as the Force.

  She reached for her lightsaber, but didn’t unhook it, and continued to wait.

  Soon she actually heard them. Whoever they were, they weren’t hunters—they moved through the jungle clumsily, and though they pitched their voices low enough that she couldn’t actually understand what they were saying, they seemed to be gabbling almost constantly. They must be very confident of their success.

  A dark shadow glided soundlessly through the undergrowth, and she snapped her gaze up in time to see something very large blot the fragments of sky not occluded by the distant canopy.

  Native life, or a Yuuzhan Vong flier?

  Pursing her lips, she waited. Soon the distant muttering became coherent. As she’d thought, the language was that of her crèche.

  “Are you certain she came this way?” a raspy voice asked.

  “She did. See? The impression in the moss?”

  “She is Jeedai. Perhaps she left these signs to confuse us.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But you think she is near?”

  “Yes.”

  “And knows we are following
her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why not simply call out to her?”

  And hope I answer the battle challenge? Tahiri thought, grimly. So they did have a tracker with them. Could she slip around them, back to her X-wing? Or must she fight them?

  Moving very slowly, Tahiri shifted in the direction of the voices. She could make out several figures through the under-story, but not distinctly.

  “At some point we must, I suppose,” the tracker said. “Else she will think we wish her harm.”

  What? Tahiri frowned, trying to fit that into her presuppositions. She couldn’t.

  “Jeedai!” the tracker called. “I think you can hear us. We humbly request an audience.”

  No warrior would do that, Tahiri thought. No warrior would use such honorless trickery. But a shaper …

  Yes, a shaper or a priest might, a member of the deception sect. Still—

  She leaned out for a better view, and found herself staring straight into the yellow eyes of a Yuuzhan Vong.

  He was perhaps six meters away. She gasped at the sight of him, and revulsion jolted through her. His face was like an open wound.

  A Shamed One, despised by the gods. He dared—her hand went to her lightsaber.

  Then the shadow was back, and suddenly something sleeted through the branches, shredding the leaves and vines around her. She snarled a war cry and ignited her weapon, swirling it up to send two thud bugs burning off through the jungle.

  Above her, through the now open canopy, she saw a Yuuzhan Vong tsik vai, an atmospheric flier, huge and ray-shaped, and from it snaked long cables. To each cable clung a Yuuzhan Vong warrior. One passed less than two meters from her, and she braced for the fight, but he went on past, oblivious to her presence, striking the jungle floor and uncoiling his amphistaff in the same motion.