Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 20_ The Final Prophecy - J. Gregory Keyes [41]
She settled the ship down next to the shrine and opened the hatch. Outside, a breeze was blowing, thick with the astringent scent of blister flowers. She was glad they’d bloomed before she left—she’d wondered what they would smell like.
She noticed a movement from behind the shrine, and saw the grotesque figure of a Shamed One coming toward her.
“This, then, must be the Prophet,” she murmured. He was tall, and his body looked well formed enough, save for a lump beneath his left arm that was probably a limpin implant gone bad. He wore a masquer that bore every mark of the Shamed she could imagine, as if he had cataloged every possible disfigurement before having it made, as if he was determined to carry the burden of all the Shamed on his own neck.
It was both revolting and oddly intriguing. What sort of Yuuzhan Vong would do such a thing? And why?
“I am Yu’shaa,” he said as he boarded. His gaze fastened on her, intense, nearly animal. This was no simpering Shamed One, no. This was an altogether different breed of the creature. He carried his marks with impossible dignity.
“I am Nen Yim.”
“I am honored, Master,” the Prophet replied. “You undertake a great task. All went well?”
“Could have gone a bit more smoothly,” Corran muttered.
“According to plan,” Nen Yim said.
“Tahiri being stabbed was not in the plan,” Corran said.
“The one-who-was-shaped is injured!” the Prophet exclaimed.
“A risk we all take,” Nen Yim pointed out.
“She’s dying!” Corran said. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“I will heal her,” Nen Yim said, “when I have the chance.”
“You’ll heal her—”
He stopped when someone else stepped into the ship. He yanked out his infidel weapon and ignited it.
“No!” Nen Yim shouted. “This is Harrar, a priest. He’s going with us.”
The male Jedi crouched into a fighting stance. “No, I—”
A blast of plasma slammed into the ship—the skies were no longer quiet. Cursing, Nen Yim realized she had disengaged from the long-range sensors. As she reengaged now, she saw a flier above them and ten more within range. She closed the hatch and jolted the dovin basals to life. The ship jumped straight up, slamming into the atmospheric flier. The flier flipped over and smashed into the shrine, then slid into the water below, food for the p’hiili.
The other fliers quickly dwindled, but faster ships were coming, from everywhere. She turned toward what she perceived to be the most open space. Far above, the rainbow bridge was a faint band in the sky, another legacy of their conquest of Yuuzhan’tar. They had shattered a moon to make it.
She saw with some relief that she was faster than the pursuing ships, if only marginally so. Most Yuuzhan Vong spacecraft had been designed primarily for space, and were clumsy in atmospheres. The Sekotan ship was sleeker, streamlined.
Once they were in vacuum, it might be a different matter.
“Prepare for a darkspace jump,” she called back.
“Bloody—” the male Jedi sputtered. “No! Not this close to the planet. We’re still in the atmosphere!”
“That’s bad?” Nen Yim asked.
“Yes, that’s bad. Have you even laid in a jump?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You’ve never flown?”
“No.”
“Watch her,” Corran told the Prophet, casting a glance at the priest as he did so. This thing was going sourer every second. He moved quickly to stand next to the shaper.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s—look, we’ll make a short jump first—Borleias. Do you have a star chart in there, anything like that?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “Or maybe. I’m not attuned enough to see it if there is one. But there are ships approaching.”
“Any way to show me the ships?”
“Yes.”
A nearby wall panel coruscated, revealing a surface that raised icons to represent ships and their movements.
“I can’t tell how close they are, because