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Mara looked at Luke. “Presumably the same ones that repelled the original Far Outsiders, and annihilated Commander Val’s forces at Klasse Ephemora,” Luke said.

“Luke, we’re talking about an armada,” Han thought to point out. “Sekot might want to at least think about warming up the hyperspace drives.”

Jabitha shook her head. “Flight would be a demonstration of fear. Zonama Sekot will not flee a second time. Especially now, with so much at stake.”

Danni glanced around in puzzlement. “It’s irrelevant, isn’t it? If Zonama Sekot is an evil omen for the Yuuzhan Vong, then Shimrra would want his forces to give it the widest berth.”

Everyone turned to Harrar.

“It depends on who knows what, and, if anything, how much.” The priest stroked his chin with his three-fingered hand. “Assuming that they have some limited understanding of Zonama Sekot, the warriors would first have to be convinced that they weren’t defying the gods by attacking the planet.” He raised his head in sudden apprehension. “Unless Shimrra has managed to convince them that Zonama Sekot is some sort of Jeedai weapon or fabrication that must be destroyed.”

“How soon before the living ships are flight-ready?” Kyp asked Jabitha in a rush.

“In time,” the Magister said. “Sekot will make certain of it.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Warmaster Nas Choka gave Yuuzhan’tar a final glance as Yammka’s Mount’s powerful dovin basals prepared to tug the vessel into darkspace for the short journey to the outersystem world known as Muscave. Aswirl with clouds, the green hemisphere that was Yuuzhan’tar had changed dramatically in the short time since the armada had launched for Mon Calamari. Smoke was chimneying from volcanic vents, it was absent one of its moons, and the bridge of the gods had collapsed—all but force-fed rock by rock to the orbiting dovin basals tasked with shielding the world from attack. And no grand ceremony on this occasion. No farewell blessings from Shimrra; no fresh coats of sacrificial blood for warriors and war vessels.

Yuuzhan’tar appeared exposed, ill prepared to defend itself. But Nas Choka trusted that Supreme Overlord Shimrra would attend to that. More important, Yuuzhan’tar would fall to the enemy only if the armada failed in its mission to destroy Zonama Sekot. In that case, Nas Choka wouldn’t be alive to see the planet reclaimed. Judged unworthy by the gods, the Yuuzhan Vong would die, individually and as a species, and the gods would be forced once more to fashion beings worthy of nurture, as they had done three times before the Yuuzhan Vong had been brought into being.

Nas Choka had accepted Shimrra’s wisdom on the matter of Zonama Sekot. Again the Supreme Overlord had demonstrated his brilliance, and that had reinforced Nas Choka’s belief that he had made the correct choice in siding with Shimrra when it had come to toppling Quoreal from the polyp throne.

But Nas Choka nursed a secret distrust for the Trickster goddess, Yun-Harla. The feathered traitor, Vergere, had been the familiar of priestesses of Yun-Harla. Too, Eminence Harrar had been devoted to her, and he had apparently vanished off the face of Yuuzhan’tar. Worse, the Trickster, without intervention, had for a time allowed her guise to be adopted by one of the Jedi. So what was to stop her from betraying the Yuuzhan Vong now? Weary of being patronized by Yun-Yuuzhan and Yun-Yammka, perhaps she wished to bring about the destruction of Yun-Yuuzhan’s creation, by tricking Shimrra into trusting to a false revelation.

To shore up his own faith and that of his warriors, Nas Choka had commanded a coven of Yun-Yammka priests to accompany the armada. Having drawn blood from the tongues and earlobes of each and every Supreme Commander, the priests had pumped the bloated ngdins that had absorbed the sacrificial offerings into a coralskipper and dispatched it into the void, in advance of the armada.

Hands clasped behind his back, the warmaster spun away from the view of Yuuzhan’tar. Several strides across the coarse deck took him to the