Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 20_ The Final Prophecy - J. Gregory Keyes [38]
“Hang on,” Corran said. “Wait until—”
Even as he spoke, new actors appeared, four figures in brown cloaks bearing long glowing tubes of light.
And everywhere went up the cry of “Jeedai,” from warriors and Shamed Ones at once. But their tones were quite different. The Shamed Ones were exulting, while the warriors were crying out in challenge and fury—and perhaps a little fear. There were few things that could bring a warrior greater honor than bringing down a Jedi in combat—the warriors didn’t worship them as the Shamed Ones did, but they had learned respect.
The “Jeedai” suddenly turned and ran, and guards went after them, howling. Indeed, guards who had not already left their posts now did so. Corran had called that one pretty well. If there was anything that could make a warrior forget every duty he had, this was it.
Of course, when it came to their superiors’ attention that they had abandoned their posts to chase Shamed Ones bearing the light-plants that grew below their feet, things would not go well for any of them.
“Now,” Corran said.
Tahiri was already springing forward, now utterly focused on the single guard who still remained at the front closure of the damutek.
To the guard’s credit, he wasn’t too distracted by the fighting to see them coming. Unfortunately, his attention did not do him much good against two Jedi.
At the door, Tahiri put her hand against the membrane.
“Veka, Kwaad.”
The opening dilated.
“That was easy,” Corran said.
“It should be,” Tahiri answered. “This damutek belongs to my domain.”
“Master Yim,” someone asked from the doorway.
She looked up from the series of kul embryos she’d been vivisecting. It was Qelah Kwaad. “What is it?”
“There’s some sort of disturbance in the outer compound. They say it is Shamed Ones.”
“Disturbance? What are they doing?”
“They’ve attacked the amphistaff nursery.”
“Trying to arm themselves, I suppose,” Nen Yim replied. “Go, secure the laboratories.”
“Yes, Master Yim.” The adept hurried off.
Well, she considered. This must be it. She straightened from her task and moved to the wall. From a pouch adhered to her belly, she withdrew a thorn-shaped creature with a thin, hard shell, located a nerve cluster in the wall, and thrust it in. It hissed softly as it began injecting toxin into the damutek. It would paralyze the living structure’s defenses, allowing whoever was coming after her to do so without having to deal with corridor-sealing membranes and debilitating gas. Of course, those defenses had not stopped the Jedi on Yavin, but this needed to move quickly. The thorn tapiq would soon dissolve and leave no trace of itself or its effect.
She grabbed an enveloping cloth surrounding a set of selected shaper bioware and a qahsa and hurried up the corridor toward the Sekotan ship. She was amazed at how calm she felt. Of course, she still hadn’t taken any irrevocable steps. She could counteract the effects of the tapiq, and she probably had the means at her disposal to stop the Jedi.
But no. Zonama Sekot was a mystery she could not let lie. The planet called to her. She would go, if she survived the next few moments.
The ship was as she had seen it the day before, shimmering gently, waiting for her. Excitement grew in her. She was stepping forward, touching it with her master’s hand, when several figures burst through the doorway into the room.
Two humans, and, by their whipping, burning unlife brands, certainly Jedi. They were engaged with eight warriors. Both of the humans already bore several bloody gashes, but as she watched, two more Yuuzhan Vong warriors fell from sizzling, cauterized wounds.
One of the remaining guards turned to face her.
“Master Yim, flee. There is danger here.”
She knew him—Bhasu Ruuq, quiet for a warrior. She thought she’d caught him giving her admiring glances before.
“My apologies,” she said. She extended her master’s hand, and a long,