Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 06_ Balance Point - Kathy Tyers [35]
Perplexed, Tsavong Lah interrupted, “Is this family in blood feud? Avoiding one another, to prevent embarrassment?”
“I find no evidence of either. It seems possible, though almost unbelievable—even for this godless race—that the offspring have no idea of the mother’s location, nor she of theirs. The coward’s name—”
“Name me no coward. He is not worthy to be known.”
“Then may I offer a suggestion?”
Tsavong Lah nodded.
“I have developed a new organism.”
Tsavong Lah frowned. Nom Anor fancied himself a shaper, dabbling in others’ sanctified specialties.
“When we need to break down these abominable domes and let in living atmosphere,” Anor continued, “it should be useful. Meanwhile, I would like to test it in the two younger Jedis’ dome. Bruk tukken nom canbintu.” He quoted the adage: to weaken the hinges of the enemy’s fort.
“Why not your own?” It would be an honorable self-immolation.
“Belek tiu, Warmaster.” Nom Anor apologized, and the warmaster let him continue. “This research complex serves our long-term purposes, and Jedi Organa Solo helps other workers make maximum use of resources. For that reason, this dome’s destruction should be delayed.”
Tsavong Lah could not fault the executor’s reasoning. “Only so long as she remains ignorant of your presence. Somehow, these Jeedai recognize us through ooglith masquers. I have little faith that your new gablith masquer would deceive her.” Jedi magic worked without sacrifices to the Yuuzhan Vong gods, which made it almost as abominable as the infidels’ technology. “The priests,” he added dryly, “change their minds daily, whether the portents identify these Jeedai as abominations too evil to even sacrifice, or worthy enough to offer individually. But do not encounter her in person.”
“I serve you with my life and death,” Nom Anor answered.
Tsavong Lah touched his villip. Nom Anor’s face faded, shrank, and was sucked back into the villip’s interior.
Tsavong Lah sat for another minute, stroking his frayed lip with a finger claw. Destroying Duro’s ship-crafting facility would deny his enemies warships and matériel. Cutting their trade routes again would wreak economic havoc.
And at Duro, he would make an example that the galaxy’s surviving inhabitants would not dare to ignore.
CHAPTER NINE
Mara sat with Luke at a long briefing table, in a sequestered room protected by sonic containment fields. At the table’s head, Ayddar Nylykerka—chief of Fleet Intelligence—stood beside a three-dimensional galactic map that gleamed over the table’s modulasers. Most of its star field shone faintly blue, but a substantial slice starting near Belkadan had been reprogrammed to shine red, those systems that had been taken by the Yuuzhan Vong.
Nylykerka swept his laser pointer through that sector. “As you see, our hyperspace probes are returning limited information. Kalarba, Druckenwell, and Falleen are lost. Even if we could retain Rodia,” he said, glancing at Rodian Councilor Narik, “the Corellian Run is cut.” He swept his pointer through that hyperspace lane. “Our scouts report having found several more points seeded with dovin basal interdiction mines.”
Councilor Narik’s ears swiveled toward Chief of State Fey’lya. “Once again, a Mid Rim world is sacrificed in the name of protecting the Core … or Bothawui,” Narik said angrily.
Mara frowned. The Bothan chief of state had managed to keep the remains of the Fifth Fleet deployed at home, but he looked twitchy. Defensive. Ripples danced almost constantly across his furred face.
“With such grave damage to Fondor, we are equally concerned with protecting Kuat Drive Yards,” Councilor Triebakk of Kashyyyk said through his translator droid. He gestured toward the Advisory Council’s newest member, Senator Viqi Shesh of Kuat, who nodded