• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“So we can’t even talk to him.” Tahiri looked downcast. “Maybe that’s a weakness, but it doesn’t make things easier on us. He can’t be reasoned with.”

“I guess that leaves me with only one more question.” Luke returned the datapad to his belt pouch and prepared himself for what he expected to be more bad news. “Is there any way to save him? To befriend him, teach him about the light side?”

Baljos finally became serious. “I don’t think so. He’s had almost all humanity burned out of his brain. He’s just a predator whose only goal is to dominate.”

“Great,” Luke said.

Viqi spent almost her every hour in the chamber that concealed the Ugly Truth. Though not technically proficient, she knew enough about machinery—and could glean more from the ship’s computer memory—to have a good sense of the resources available to her here.

Ugly Truth was definitely capable of spaceflight, and her inboard diagnostics indicated that every ship’s system was undamaged, operational. The ship was fully fueled, and battery power, for starting up systems and even providing her with some discretionary lights and occasional cool air, was adequate to last for weeks more.

The problem was the exit chute. It had collapsed during Coruscant’s fall or subsequent bombardment. Small chunks of duracrete and ferrocrete had fallen, then metal beams had twisted and more rubble had fallen onto the beams, the whole mass crushing into an impenetrable plug.

Floors above the hidden hangar, she’d found a hole providing access into the exit chute above the plug. Here there were signs that someone had been working, digging away at the plug from above, hauling blocks of duracrete into an office chamber at that level. She supposed that the worker had been the pretty boy who’d given her the locator.

She’d even found the boy’s name. In the ship’s computer records was information about the family that had owned the Ugly Truth. Hasville and Adray Terson had been the founders of Terson Comfort Carriers, an airtaxi company; Viqi had seen the ubiquitous vehicles of their fleet, even ridden within them during her secret activities aiding the Yuuzhan Vong. The ship’s records included a holo of their son, Hasray, the boy with the remote.

Another little sad story, she decided. She pondered that for a while. She couldn’t feel the sadness of it—far from it, she was elated that the boy’s sacrifice meant her salvation.

Viqi spent most of her time studying the ship’s controls and diagrams, digging into the ship’s stores of food, regaining her strength. Occasionally she had to venture forth—very quietly, very carefully—to work on unplugging the exit chute or to find the chamber, down the hall on this floor, she had chosen for a refresher.

This day, she emerged from the refresher and peered up and down the corridor with her customary caution. There was no sound, no sign of movement. Slowly, carefully she headed back toward the Terson family quarters.

Something wrapped around her neck from behind, jerked her off her feet. She landed on her back, choking, and stared up … into the features of Denua Ku. The warrior held his amphistaff in one hand; the other end of the weapon was coiled around Viqi’s neck.

She gaped up at him. He was dead, she knew he was dead, he’d died back in the furniture manufacturer’s. But now he stared down at her, helmet off, eyes neither angry nor solicitous. “Get up,” he said.

She struggled to her feet, assuming control over her expression, her manner, her breathing. As she rose, the amphistaff’s tail slid from around her. “Denua Ku,” she said. “I’d thought you had died.”

“I ran.” The warrior’s voice sounded bitter. “My duty dictated that I return to my commander and describe what I’d seen—the giant Jeedai. Now that my superiors are informed, I can return to confront the monstrous thing … and kill it, or be killed by it. Why did you not seek out the Yuuzhan Vong and tell them what had happened?”

She let some scorn creep into her tone. “A human, alone, wandering about the rooftops, waving down coralskippers? Do you know what happens to