Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 21_ The Unifying Force - James Luceno [76]
“We’ve waited long enough,” Octa Ramis said. “It’s time we sent a ship.”
Everyone fell silent for a long moment, then Cilghal said, “I doubt that we’ll find Zonama Sekot at the coordinates to which we’ve been transmitting messages. I suspect that the living world has moved.”
“Based on what?” Alema asked.
Cilghal spread her webbed hands. “On what the Force tells me.”
Kenth glanced around the table. “Do any of you also feel that way?”
“I do,” Jaina said. “Jacen feels farther away than he did when we received Luke and Mara’s transmission.” She shook her head somberly. “I don’t feel him as distinctly.”
Kenth inhaled with purpose. “That’s good enough for me.” He compressed his lips. “I say we have a talk with the Prophet.”
Kyp snorted. “I agree. But getting onto Coruscant won’t be easy—even with Peace Brigade and trade ships being allowed to land there.”
Alema looked from Kyp to Kenth. “Could we appeal to Alliance command for help in inserting some of us?”
Kenth shook his head. “Not without explaining what we’re after—or why we didn’t inform command that we’d sanctioned Corran and Tahiri’s mission to Zonama Sekot. If Intelligence learns that we passed on a chance to capture a shaper, a priest, and the Prophet, of all people …”
“We could go to Wedge,” Markre Medjev suggested.
Kenth nodded. “We could, and I’m sure he’d do everything in his power to get us onto Coruscant. But I don’t want to put him in the position of having to lie to Sovv and Kre’fey.”
“I agree,” Cilghal said.
Tresina nodded. “Likewise.”
“This is beginning to sound like Myrkr all over again,” Kyp said.
Zekk looked at him. “If Anakin hadn’t taken on that mission, all of us might be voxyn fodder by now.”
“Zekk’s right,” Octa Ramis added. “If it sounds like Myrkr, it’s because we have no choice but to go.”
Kenth straightened and adopted a determined expression. “We’ll give Master Skywalker a week. If we don’t hear from him by then, I’ll assemble a strike team.”
FIFTEEN
Its balloonlike bone-white outriggers buffeted by gusting winds, the airship moved swiftly over the devastated surface of Zonama Sekot. Luke, Mara, Jacen, and the Yuuzhan Vong priest, Harrar, were crammed onto the rear portion of the gondola’s tiny cabin. Saba Sebatyne and a Ferroan male named Kroj’b had the controls. Companion of the manta-shaped dirigible Elegance Enshrined, Kroj’b had arrived in the Middle Distance only the previous day, but had agreed to accompany the Jedi on their mission to the southern realm. Next to the two pilots stood Jabitha, wrapped in a fur-lined cloak.
At three thousand meters the air was frigid, and the howling wind made conversation difficult. Even if that hadn’t been the case, no one seemed inclined to talk. Jacen was broodingly silent; Mara, preoccupied and restless. Saba, at least, had a bewildering assortment of organiform control levers to busy her.
Luke raised the cowl of his robe and shoved his hands deep into the robe’s sleeves.
The Force spoke quietly on Zonama Sekot.
The rain had finally ceased in that part of the planet, but the thick cloud cover remained. The sun—whatever star it was, named or unknown—was a broad smear of incandescence behind the gray veil. A persistent chill wind rustled the giant boras and was fast stripping them of their globular leaves. Many of the leaves had turned blue and yellow, as if bruised. Something seldom seen in the Middle Distance—except at high altitude—vapors froze during the long nights, leaving the canyon floors coated in white until the sun rose. Thin sheets of transparent ice formed over quiet pockets of the still-swollen river. When glimpsed at all, animals could be seen seeking shelter in caves or burrows, or fashioning durable nests, as if in preparation for a long winter. Boras seeds, too, had been observed creeping off into the tampasi, perhaps to seek nourishment among the oldest of the iron-tipped boras and wait for