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“It was simple enough. You responded well to the antitoxin.” Nen Yim shifted her gaze back to the stars. “You must convince the other Jeedai to go to Zonama Sekot. If what you said about your goals is true, you must help me.”

“I can’t,” Tahiri said. “I agree with him. Even if I could trust you, and the Prophet, there is also the priest to consider. Why did he come?”

“I think his reasons are compound. He is a highly placed member of his caste. Heresy is a great danger to that caste, and here he has the opportunity to study not merely two heretics of two varieties, but also the leaders of their respective movements. He would understand his enemy. Yet he is also jealous of the secret of Zonama Sekot, and perhaps truly angry at Shimrra for concealing the knowledge of it. When we know Zonama Sekot’s secrets, however, I cannot say what he will do. Turn on us as well as Shimrra, probably, and reinforce the power of his priesthood. If Zonama Sekot is truly of consequence to our future, castes will battle for control of it, both ideologically and in fact.”

“All that to say you don’t trust him.”

“I think that no matter the outcome of this expedition, he plans our deaths.”

“Then why did you bring him along?” Tahiri exploded.

“To learn what I can from him. There are other factions among our people, you know. Shimrra has detractors in other quarters—the Quorealists, for instance, who supported the predecessor he slew to attain power. It may be Harrar is one. Certainly he knows about them. Also, I want to keep him where I can see him. He is less dangerous to me that way.”

“Well, we agree on that,” Tahiri said. “I don’t trust him, either.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him together, then.”

It was a transparent ploy, but Tahiri felt a sudden, involuntary affinity for the shaper.

That’s stupid. It’s what she wants me to feel.

But they were of the same domain, and domain loyalties ran deep, far deeper than simple like or dislike. Was this why Corran didn’t trust her?

Move on to something else. “Is there any way of knowing if Harrar has a tracer or villip implanted in him?”

“It would have to be a very unusual one to be a danger to us,” Nen Yim replied.

“Why?”

“Because I have released a virus that attacks and swiftly kills all known variants of such organisms. If anyone on this vessel has such an implant, we can expect them to be briefly ill as the waste products flush through their system.”

“I’ll watch for that, then,” Tahiri said, and left the helm, confused. Anger brought certainty, and with it gone, she didn’t know what she felt.

Nen Yim turned her eyes back toward the stars.

Perhaps that will persuade her, she thought. Perhaps now she can convince the older Jeedai to resume the voyage to Zonama Sekot.

After all, it was true. She did not want Shimrra’s minions following her to Zonama Sekot, and she had taken measures to prevent it.

But the older Jedi was suspicious of her, of all of them. Well he should be. The Prophet’s simple belief that Zonama Sekot was the salvation of the Shamed Ones and thus the Yuuzhan Vong was not her own. Zonama Sekot was the greatest single threat her people had ever faced, she was sure of it. If her investigations bore that out, she would take matters into her own hands.

Despite its organic origins, the Sekotan ship was laid out along lines more similar to the metal-and-plasteel ships Tahiri had known than to Yuuzhan Vong vessels. Behind the cockpit was a crew cabin comfortably large enough for six or seven people, and six somewhat more cramped sleeping cells. Behind that was a spacious storage area that looked more Yuuzhan Vong in design—Nen Yim had had room to spare when she took out the old hyperdrive. It was filled with things that Tahiri remembered from the shaper laboratory on Yavin 4. She looked in only once.

Whatever the original crew of the ship had eaten had been replaced by muur, a Yuuzhan Vong yeast-based staple. She and Corran settled down to a meal of it around a table that extruded from the floor, sprouting like a mushroom when a discolored place