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None of the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to be in earshot—the Prophet was nowhere to be seen, and Nen Yim was back in her makeshift laboratory, as was Harrar.

“Four days, and no one has shown any symptoms,” Corran said. “Of course, that could mean several things. Either no one had implants, or the implants weren’t affected by the virus, or there never was any virus.”

“Well, that’s what everything boils down to when you don’t trust anyone,” Tahiri pointed out. “We just don’t know.”

“You like this stuff?” Corran grunted, reluctantly taking another mouthful.

“No one likes it,” Tahiri said. “Yuuzhan Vong don’t eat for enjoyment. Unless it’s to make a statement, you know, eating the flesh of the vua’sa you killed in ritual combat or whatever.”

“Still not exactly pleasure. Relish maybe.”

“Right,” she said, taking another bite. She knew he was trying to make a joke, but she didn’t feel like laughing. Corran was hard to read these days, as if he was making an effort not to let her see too much of him in the Force.

They both turned at a soft sound in the doorway. Harrar stood there.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” the priest said.

“Not at all,” Corran said. “Can I help you?”

The priest nodded. “It’s been four days. May I ask when we reach Mon Calamari?”

Tahiri shot Corran a glance. Four days, she sent in the Force. No sign of betrayal.

He didn’t answer in the same way, but pursed his lips and nodded. “Where’s the Prophet?” he asked.

“Locked in his cabin—praying, presumably,” the priest replied.

“Okay,” Corran said. “Let’s get everyone together. I—”

And then the ship screamed.

FOURTEEN

Qelah Kwaad abased herself before the polyp throne as the rumble of Shimrra’s voice washed over her. She cringed and was ashamed.

“Rise, Adept Kwaad,” Shimrra said.

Knees shaking, she did so. “Dread Lord,” she said. “How can I please you?”

“You already have. The mabugat kan were of your shaping, were they not?”

“They were, Lord Shimrra,” she said.

“Master Yim brought them to my attention. She said you were the brightest of her pupils.”

“She did?” Qelah was surprised. She had always thought Master Yim was jealous of her.

“We have used them with great success. The infidels are now largely without long-range communications. It has been an invaluable aid to our war effort.”

“Thank you, Lord. I am pleased to have been of service.”

“Of course you are,” Shimrra growled reproachfully, and his Shamed jester capered gleefully.

She felt like cowering back into a crouch, but the Dread Lord had bid her stand, so she stood her ground.

“The loss of Master Yim was a great blow,” Shimrra went on. “But her work must continue. You will be elevated to master.”

Qelah hoped her fierce exultation did not show.

“I am not worthy of the honor, Great Lord, but I will do my best to excel.” She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop. “I have developed a new sort of ship, one that should counter many of the new strategies of the infidels. And as for the Jeedai—”

“What of the Jeedai?” The words came out with such force that her tendrils felt as if they were being swept back, but this time she was not dismayed.

“I believe I have an answer to them,” she said.

“Besides the mabugat kan, I have for some time been developing a powerful new suite of bioforms designed specifically to counter the threat of the Jeedai. I am not far from completion.”

“That has been promised before,” Shimrra said. “But the promise has never been fulfilled. Those who fail me do not find favor.”

She understood that lack of favor also meant lack of breath, but she plunged on. “I am certain you will be pleased, Dread Lord,” she told him.

“Very well. You will ascend to master tomorrow. You will work directly beneath Ahsi Yim.”

Qelah took a deep breath. She had a chance at more. Could she flinch from taking it?

No.

“Yes, Lord,” she said. “A member of Nen Yim’s domain.”

Shimrra’s mqaaq’it eyes flared a brighter red. “What could you mean by that, Qelah Kwaad? Do you imply something?”

“Nothing, Lord,” she said. “I spoke out of turn.”

“I hear something