Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 21_ The Unifying Force - James Luceno [229]
Ralroost’s tractor beam conducted the shuttle through an invisible field and allowed it to berth. Released from their harnesses, the captives were escorted down the ship’s ramp and toward an area of the vast hold where no less than five hundred Alliance officers and officials stood at attention behind a semicircular arrangement of tables and chairs. The sterility of the huge space chilled Nas Choka to the bone. The scrubbed air had an unpleasant tang; the intense yellow-white light gave every object a sharp aspect; the smooth deck was uncompromising; the ceiling was a chaos of girders and ducts. Hundreds of starfighters rested on their hardstands, and droids shuffled about like slaves.
A mixed-species orchestra assaulted the captives with martial music, and an artificial breeze tugged at flags representative of some of the galaxy’s species—several of which had been vanquished by Nas Choka himself. Humans and others documented the occasion with holocams and other recording devices. Though much of the meaning was lost on him, Nas Choka recognized the display as pageant and ritual, pomp and circumstance.
Sovv and Kre’fey were determined to put on a grand show.
The open end of the half circle of tables faced a row of six chairs, atop which Nas Choka and his commanders were obviously meant to sit. Interpreters—Alliance species and Yuuzhan Vong heretics, by the look of them—were standing by to make certain that everyone understood one another.
When the fanfare ended, the officers and officials seated themselves. At the semicircle’s apex sat white-furred Kre’fey and big-eared Sovv, along with several human commanders Nas Choka recognized from intelligence reports—Pellaeon, Brand, Bel Iblis, Farlander, Antilles, Rieekan, Celchu, Davip, and the Hapan queen, Tenel Ka, who was a Jedi, as well. Alliance intendants were scattered, but close to the military commanders sat Cal Omas and his principal advisers: the Wookiee named Triebakk, the Gotal named Ta’laam Ranth, the lank human director of Intelligence, Dif Scaur, and the golden-furred Caamasi named Releqy, whose intendant father had been ritually killed at Dubrillion by Commander Shedao Shai.
The Jedi—in cloaks so homespun they might have been made by Shamed Ones—had an arc of the half circle to themselves. Conspicuous among the three human males was Luke Skywalker, the killer of Shimrra. The two seated next to him had the look of warriors. The only other human was a dark-haired female, who struck Nas Choka as more intendant than warrior. The remaining pair of Jedi were nonhumanoid females: a Barabel who might have been at home among the Chazrach, and a Mon Calamari, whose long head brought to mind that of a Yuuzhan Vong beast of burden.
Occupying the distal end of the arc’s left curve sat Jakan, Harrar, Qelah Kwaad, and several lesser priests, shapers, and intendants.
When the captives had been positioned in front of their rigid chairs, Nas Choka waved for his commanders to be seated and stepped forward. The dread moment had arrived. Proffering his baton of rank, he dropped to one knee.
“In surrendering this,” he said in Basic, “we surrender ourselves.”
It was a historic utterance, and every Yuuzhan Vong in the docking bay—loyal and heretic alike—inhaled sharply and with purpose.
“I ask only that I be allowed to be the first to die—by my own coufee.”
“Rise, Warmaster,” Sovv said. “We understand that honor attends such actions, but that cannot be permitted here.”
Still kneeling, Nas Choka regarded him in confusion. “Then appoint any warrior you see fit to kill me.”
Sovv shook his tiny head. “There will be no executions, Warmaster.”
Nas Choka gritted his teeth and came to his