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This time she was not lying.

Hul Qat closed his eyes, and even without using the Force, Tahiri felt him leave.

Tahiri glanced at the opening of the cave, so near, and she knew that was not what she had come for at all. This was why she had come. The Force had brought her here, to meet this man, to make this promise.

She rose. The fliers would find her if she remained still for too long. She hoped they hadn’t discovered her ship yet, but figured the odds were against it, since they hadn’t been looking for her and she had concealed it pretty well. Even so, she might have a little trouble getting out of the system, depending on how many and what sort of ships were orbiting overhead.

It didn’t matter, though. She had a promise to keep.

Even if she could figure out exactly what she had promised.

TWO

The port shields of Mon Mothma collapsed and plasma punched through the hull like a fist through flimsiplast. At the point of impact, matter became ions, and supersonic droplets of molten hull metal sleeted through the next four decks, arriving before the sound or vibration of impact, shredding the frail life-forms within before their nervous systems had time to register anything amiss. Behind that came a shock wave of superheated air expanding with such fury that blast shields bent and warped, and the wave-front swept the decks end to end, searing everything in its path. Two hundred sentient beings winked out in an instant, and a hundred more in marginal areas fell—perforated, burned, or both.

Then, like a giant taking back its breath, space sucked everything out through the gaping hole, leaving vacuum behind, and quiet.

At the helm of the Star Destroyer, it was far from quiet. Claxons blared and panicked young officers stuttered through emergency procedures. Simulated gravity vanished, and someone shrieked.

Wedge Antilles closed his eyes as the illusion of weight faded and reasserted itself.

I’m so tired of this, he thought.

He opened his eyes to a barrage of smaller plasma blasts aimed directly, it seemed, at his face as a squadron of Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers made a run straight at the bridge. Turbolasers flared three of them into debris. The rest peeled away at the last instant to avoid impacting the still-functioning bridge shields.

Wedge didn’t even blink. The skips weren’t their problem right now. That would be the Yuuzhan Vong Dreadnaught analog that had just popped into existence and blasted a hole in their side.

“Twenty degrees starboard and twelve above horizon,” Wedge commanded. “Now. Commence firing.”

He swung on the lieutenant at tactical. “What else has joined our little party?” he demanded.

“Four frigate analogs, sir,” the lieutenant told him. “Coralskippers—we’re not sure how many flights, yet. And of course, the Dreadnaught. Sir, I’d say the Yuuzhan Vong reinforcements have arrived.”

“Yes. We’ll wait a bit to see if there are any more. Tell Memory of Ithor to watch our wounded flank. We’ll have to slug this out.”

His whole body itched at the prospect. In his heart and in the caves of his reflexes, Wedge was a starfighter pilot. Sure, capital ships had firepower, but they were so slow maneuvering. He’d feel a lot better in an X-wing.

He’d feel better without the weight of dead crew on his shoulders. Losing a wingmate was hard enough. Losing two hundred …

But he wasn’t in an X-wing, and when he’d come out of retirement as a general, he’d known what he was getting himself into. So he watched, lips pursed, as the monstrous ovoid of a ship swung into view, as the Mothma’s turbolasers razoring toward yorik coral returned blossoms of plasma. Most of the lasers arrowed straight, then abruptly curved into sharp hooks and vanished as the tiny singularities the Yuuzhan Vong vessel projected pulled the light into them. About every third beam went through, however, scribbling glowing red lines in the coral hull.

“Sir, the Memory is unable to come to our aid. She’s engaged with one of the frigates, and she’s taking quite a beating.”

“Well, get somebody there. We can’t let them hit