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Nom Anor waited.

“The gods deliberately saved it,” Shimrra said. “They spared it your treachery, and they placed it in the hands of the Jeedai.” He shook the Scepter of Power in anger. “This is an act of war on their part! Their salvo against those who would retire them and rule in their stead!”

Fortunately, Shimrra wasn’t expecting a response, because Nom Anor was speechless.

“It follows then, that if we destroy Zonama Sekot once and for all, we will not only have defeated the Jeedai, but will have also vanquished the gods themselves!” Shimrra waved the formidable-looking amphistaff again. “To do that we must respond with a salvo of our own. If I can’t divest the gods of their power over us, then I can at least attempt to turn them against one another!”

“How, Lord?” Nom Anor asked in complete befuddlement.

Shimrra glared at him. “I am granting you special powers as my envoy. High Prefect Drathul will hear this from my own lips. As my envoy, it will be your duty to inform the priests in all the temples that they are to cease performing rituals to Yun-Yuuzhan and Yun-Yammka, and instead to devote all their labors to venerating Yun-Harla.”

“But the Trickster is believed by many of the priests to have already played a role in our setbacks,” Nom Anor said. “In the Hapes Consortium and at Borleias … The Jeedai Jaina Solo even masqueraded as her, and outlived Tsavong Lah!”

“All the better, then,” Shimrra replied calmly, “because already Yun-Harla’s head swells with conceit. The gods are already jealous of her, and now we will give them something to get angry about. We will do to them precisely what they did to us during the voyage through the void—set them against one another. Then, while they are occupied fighting among themselves, while their attention is diverted from us, we will strike at Zonama Sekot and be finished with all of them!”

Nom Anor nodded, trying hard to keep uncertainty from the gesture. Onimi was regarding Shimrra with what might have been incredulity, but looked more like misgiving. For one brief instant Onimi’s eyes met Nom Anor’s, and that sense of apprehension was communicated. If it hadn’t been obvious before, it was obvious now that Shimrra was beyond control—deranged. Events had conspired to make a believer out of one who had long prided himself on being the master of his own destiny.

Nom Anor had never experienced a sadder moment, and he knew suddenly that all was lost.

Kunra and Drathul were already breathing down his neck, and now Shimrra had added his breath to the mix. He would carry out Shimrra’s ridiculous edict, even though there was little point in doing so. But he no longer trusted that Shimrra would come up with a final surprise to spring on the Alliance.

Nom Anor’s only option was to return to the sensibility he had shucked at Zonama Sekot. He needed to think only of himself. Survival was in his own hands. He had come full circle to the very place he had found himself in after Ebaq 9. It was Nom Anor against everyone: Shimrra, Drathul, Kunra, the Jedi, Zonama Sekot, the universe.

His fight was with all of them, and yet with none of them.

He wanted nothing more than simply to disappear.

THIRTY-ONE

With the Yuuzhan Vong armada re-grouped at Coruscant, Errant Venture was able to reach Contruum without incident. No sooner had the Star Destroyer reverted from hyperspace on the frontier of Contruum’s dense system of inhabited worlds than Booster Terrik sought out Luke and Mara in the main docking bay, where Jade Shadow was already being prepped for launch.

“Alliance command has ordered us to hold at Contruum Six,” the ample Corellian said as he approached the warming ship. “Guess the invitation you received doesn’t extend to friends.” Corran Horn’s father-in-law, Terrik, had a ready smile and a pirate’s glint in his rheumy eye.

“We can fix that,” Luke started to say.

Booster waved in dismissal. “Don’t bother. But after not being allowed to park on Zonama Sekot, I’m beginning to feel unwanted.” He laughed affably to let them know he wasn’t serious.