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“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Jacen said.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve still got Shalo, right?”

“Unless H’sishi was ambushed on the way back to my ship.”

“I got something from him, something he was hiding. I tried to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure. But he was expecting something. Something big.”

Shalo was a good deal more subdued during his second interview, and much more cooperative.

“A convoy is stopping off here,” he admitted. “Day after tomorrow. On its way to Ylesia.”

“What’s the cargo?”

“Oh, you know, cargo.”

“No, I don’t know,” Han said. “Please, enlighten me.”

“Spice, weapons, maybe a few, uh … a few slaves.”

“Sacrifices for the Yuuzhan Vong, you mean. You’re quite a piece of work, Shalo.”

“I’m a businessman, Solo.”

“Sure. Tell you what, once we’re done with this convoy, we’ll drop you off someplace where you can get nice and cozy with your new business partners. Nal Hutta, maybe.”

Tsavong Lah regarded the strange creature before him. It looked like some shaper’s fevered joke, with its short, ruffled feathers, spindly limbs, and cochlear antennae. It blinked luminous, slanted eyes at him and stretched its ridiculously wide mouth to speak.

“Greetings, Warmaster,” it said.

The warmaster considered her for another moment before deigning to answer.

“The deception-sect priests and the haar vhinic tell me you have yielded much useful information concerning the infidels. You seem to have been most observant during your captivity.”

“I would do more,” Vergere said boldly.

“So I am also told. You have information regarding the ship that has been harassing our infidel lackeys.” As he spoke, a pair of villips projected an image of a matte-black ship, lens-shaped, with odd projections.

“I know the ship,” Vergere replied.

“And why would you speak this only to me?” the warmaster rumbled.

“Because,” Vergere said, “I think the identity of this ship would be of particular interest to you, and because I believe you would prefer to have this information discreetly.”

“You presume much about me, familiar-of-a-dead-priestess.”

“If I presume incorrectly, I am prepared to embrace punishment.”

Tsavong Lah gave her an abbreviated nod of approval. “Waste no more of my time,” he said. “Say what you came to say.”

“I know the ship because it is the one from which I escaped,” Vergere told him. “It is the Millennium Falcon, and its captain is named Han Solo.”

“Solo?” Tsavong Lah felt a surge of rage at the name, and his vua’sa foot-claws clacked restlessly against the deck.

“Solo,” the creature said. “Father of Anakin Solo, who caused the late distress at Yavin Four, or so I’m told. Father of Jacen Solo.”

Tsavong Lah reared to his full height. “You were correct, familiar. This is of interest.”

“Find the Millennium Falcon, Warmaster, and you will find Jacen Solo. I believe he is aboard her. If he is not, once you have his father, he will not be long in arriving. It is the way these infidels think.”

“Indeed,” the warmaster replied, a vast satisfaction rising in his blood. “And the Jeedai are most particularly weak in that respect.”

THIRTY-TWO

Admiral Traest Kre’fey seated himself in the tactical chamber room of his flagship, the Ralroost. His violet eyes were sternly set, but Jaina nevertheless felt a brief but tangible impulse to stroke his fur, which was whiter than the wastes of Hoth. Contrasted with his black flight suit, it positively shone.

It was a feeling that evaporated immediately when the dignified Bothan began to speak.

“I’ve reviewed all of the information presented me,” he said. “General Antilles, is there anything missing? Any other little surprises?”

“No, Admiral,” Wedge replied. He glanced aside at Kyp. “Not that I know of.”

“Well,” the admiral mused. “Who would have guessed that the Yuuzhan Vong were another pack of superweapon aficionados. I thought we were done with that when we were done with the Empire.”

“Apparently not,” Gavin Darklighter said dryly. “I share General Antilles’s distrust of Kyp Durron, but—”

“This I’m getting tired of.” Kyp grunted and stood.