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Jag yawed sharply to avoid a piece of the vessel nearest him. The body of a Yuuzhan Vong pilot shot from the wreckage of the other ship, aimed directly—and probably deliberately—at Shawnkyr’s clawcraft.

A blue streak shot from Shawnkyr’s vessel and reduced the once living projectile to a grim nebula. Jag tried to ignore the splatter on his cockpit viewer. He squinted up through it toward the underside of the sole remaining coralskipper. Its hull was also thinning. Heated coral paled to a ghostly translucence.

“Break!” he shouted as he leaned his ship sharply away.

Coral erupted into the sky, pushed along by a brief, bright explosion. Volcanoes were nothing new to him—one of the planets in Chiss territory had an extremely volatile geology. But seeing a living thing erupt in similar fashion made the Yuuzhan Vong seem at once more familiar and more unknowable. Jag doubted he’d ever be able to witness a volcanic eruption again without viewing it as the death throes of a mountain.

It didn’t occur to him to share this thought with Shawnkyr. Long experience with the Chiss had taught him to keep fanciful notions to himself. Instead he switched his comm to hailing frequency.

“This is Vanguard One, a Chiss scouting vehicle. New Republic freighter, please identify yourself and tell us how we can further assist you.”

There was a moment of silence, then the comm crackled. “This is the Blind Mynock. We have no valuables aboard, no passengers. There’s no profit in boarding us.”

Jag sent a sidelong glance at his wingmate. An expression of grim outrage had settled over the Chiss female’s features. “We’re not pirates,” he said flatly. “If you require an escort, we will accompany you to Hapan space.”

“We’ve no need of whelp-tending,” the pilot blustered. “The Mynock has plenty of speed and firepower.”

Jag’s patience began to fray. “If you had weapons, you would have returned fire in the hope of protecting your nonexistent cargo and paying passengers. This sector has a history of piracy, so I understand your caution. On the other hand, it also has a demonstrated Yuuzhan Vong risk. If you’d rather take your chances with them, say so plainly and we’ll respect your choice.”

The comm crackled promptly. “They fried our navigational computer,” a different voice said, “which is why we came so close to wearing your ship as a hull ornament. We’ll have to input the jump coordinates manually. Problem is, we don’t know them offhand. If you could see your way clear to giving us directions to Hapes, we’ll be on our way.”

Jag named the coordinates and watched as the freighter lumbered off, then lurched into sublight acceleration.

“Shall we follow them?” Shawnkyr asked.

“They don’t seem eager for company,” he observed. “But let’s report to Hapes, see what information we can gather there. Maybe even pick up a few more pilots.”

“A new squadron, Commander? You asked for a Chiss phalanx and were refused. Do you intend to build a substitute?”

“We could scout more efficiently with more eyes,” Jag argued.

“True enough. And when this scouting squadron encounters the Yuuzhan Vong, it will be able to engage them more efficiently than could a pair of Chiss clawcraft.”

“You make it sound as if we’re on an offensive mission.”

The female’s clawcraft edged closer so that their wingtips were nearly touching. “Not at all, sir. Our mission is to scout out enemy activity, not to initiate battle through first-strike tactics. It is manifestly clear, however, that the Yuuzhan Vong have no such compunction. Once the first shot is fired—and it will be—we are obligated to defend ourselves.”

Jag sent a startled glance at his wingmate.

“I know why we’ve come, sir,” the Chiss said softly. “And so do you.”

For once, Jag had nothing to add. “To Hapes, then,” he said, and began to prepare for the jump.

TWELVE

The young Jedi gathered in the cockpit of the ship Jaina had named the Trickster, watching in silence as their stolen craft moved steadily toward