Balance Point

  The New Jedi Order series boldly ventures into uncharted Star Wars territory, bringing an element of dark tragedy and suspense into the adventures of Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, Leia Organa Solo, and the other legendary figures of that galaxy far, faraway. Now veteran Star Wars author Kathy Tyers continues the epic struggle between good and evil as the New Republic, led by the battered but still unbroken Jedi, braces for the next onslaught of its merciless alien foe.…

  A Del Rey® Book

  Published by The Random House Publishing Group

  Copyright © 2001 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ™.

  All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  www.starwars.com

  www.starwarskids.com

  www.delreybooks.com

  eISBN: 978-0-345-44691-6

  v3.1

  To the persuasive, literate ladies who invited me into this galaxy and then expertly piloted the projects, Janna Silverstein and Shelly Shapiro.

  Thank you!

  To George Lucas first, of course.

  Then to Martha Millard, Scott Bach, Shelly Shapiro, Sue Rostoni, Allan Kausch, and Lucy Autrey Wilson for professional guidance; to all of the Star Wars authors who keep expanding this universe, especially James Luceno, Michael Stackpole, R. A. Salvatore, Timothy Zahn, Aaron Allston, Troy Denning, Dan Wallace, and Bill Smith; to Robert Flaherty, Cheryl Petersen, and Matthew Tyers for specialized assistance; and to Mark Tyers, who kept me upright when it would’ve been easy to collapse.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Maps

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by this Author

  Introduction to the Star Wars Expanded Universe

  Excerpt from Star Wars: The New Jedi Order: Edge of Victory I: Conquest

  Introduction to the Old Republic Era

  Introduction to the Rise of the Empire Era

  Introduction to the Rebellion Era

  Introduction to the New Republic Era

  Introduction to the New Jedi Order Era

  Introduction to the Legacy Era

  Star Wars Novels Timeline

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  Anakin Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

  C-3PO; protocol droid

  Darez Wuht; admiral (male Duros)

  Droma; spacer (male Ryn)

  Han Solo; captain, Millennium Falcon (male human)

  Jacen Solo; Jedi Knight (male human)

  Jaina Solo; Jedi Knight (female human)

  Leia Organa Solo; New Republic ambassador (female human)

  Luke Skywalker; Jedi Master (male human)

  Mara Jade Skywalker; Jedi Master (female human)

  Mezza; refugee (female Ryn)

  Nom Anor; executor (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  R2-D2; astromech droid

  Randa Besadii Diori; refugee (male Hutt)

  Romany; refugee (male Ryn)

  Tsavong Lah; warmaster (male Yuuzhan Vong)

  Viqi Shesh; senator (female human)

  They appeared without warning from beyond the edge of galactic space: a warrior race called the Yuuzhan Vong, armed with surprise, treachery, and a bizarre organic technology that proved a match—too often more than a match—for the New Republic and its allies. Even the Jedi, under the leadership of Luke Skywalker, found themselves thrown on the defensive, deprived of their greatest strength. For somehow, inexplicably, the Yuuzhan Vong seemed to be utterly devoid of the Force.

  The first strike caught the New Republic unawares, as it struggled to deal with rebellion sown by Yuuzhan Vong spy Nom Anor and his agents. With the New Republic force thus occupied, the alien advance fleet launched their first assault, which destroyed several worlds and killed countless beings—among them the Wookiee Chewbacca, loyal friend and partner to Han Solo.

  During a brave attempt to contact and make peace with the enemy, Senator Elegos A’Kla was murdered by Yuuzhan Vong commander Shedao Shai, who delivered the body to Elegos’s close friend, Jedi Corran Horn. Horn then challenged Shai to a duel—the prize being the planet Ithor. Horn bested Shai, but the Yuuzan Vong destroyed Ithor nonetheless.

  The New Republic government unraveled a little more with each setback. Soon the Jedi Knights splintered under the strain. Chafing under what some perceived as Luke’s excessive caution, a renegade group of Jedi under the leadership of Kyp Durron advocated using every available resource to defeat the Yuuzhan Vong—including unbridled aggression, which could lead only to the dark side. The philosophical dispute drove a wedge between the Solo brothers, Jacen and Anakin, while sister Jaina focused instead on her new role as a pilot with the elite Rogue Squadron.

  Consumed with guilt for failing to save Chewbacca, Han Solo turned away from his family, seeking expiation in action—and foiled a Yuuzhan Vong plot to eliminate the Jedi. Han returned with what seemed to be an antidote to the debilitating illness Mara Jade Skywalker endured. But not even that victory could erase the loss of his dearest friend—or mend his marriage to Leia.

  Leia, too, was beset with guilt. By disregarding a vision of the future, Leia feared she had condemned the Hapan fleet to ruin at Fondor. A pitched battle at the shipyards was shattered by a weapon of uncontrollable destructive power fired from Centerpoint Station—a weapon armed by her younger son, Anakin.

  Now, as the Yuuzhan Vong tighten their noose and press inward toward Coruscant and victory, Luke and Mara, Han and Leia and their children, as well as the New Republic itself, must find the balance they have lost—before there is nothing left to lose.

  PROLOGUE

  Lieutenant Jaina Solo rolled her X-wing fighter up on its port S-foil and shoved her throttle forward. A seed-shaped Yuuzhan Vong coralskipper had been harrying her wingmate. As it went evasive, a minuscule black hole appeared just off its tail and gulped down every splinter of laser energy Jaina poured into it.

  She matched her X-wing’s speed to the skip’s and pursued. There’d been dozens of battles since Colonel Gavin Darklighter invited her to join Rogue Squadron. Her pride hadn’t faded, but the thrill sure had. Too many midnight scrambles. Too much death, too little sleep.

  But I’m in Rogue Squadron, she reflected, feathering her throttle, not because of who my parents are, and not because the Force is strong in my family.

  But based on her own piloting skills. Besides, Rogue Squadron ought to include at least one Jedi Knight.

&
nbsp; The skip she was chasing swooped toward the Bothan Assault Cruiser Champion. Champ was flying cover for another refugee convoy. Kalarba’s industrialized moon, Hosk, already wobbled in its orbit. The situation was hauntingly similar to Sernpidal’s last hours, almost ten months ago. There would be even greater losses, here—to the Kalarbans. But to Jaina, like her dad, Sernpidal had been a tragedy that might never be matched.

  Vaping these skips wouldn’t bring back Chewbacca, but it helped deaden Jaina’s bitter memories. Keeping one finger on her stutter trigger, she showered the coralskipper with crimson laser splinters. Multiple bursts of low-power energy tired and distracted the skip’s energy-sucking dovin basals. As the colonel once put it, “Tickle its teeth, then ram a fist down its throat.”

  Her sensor showed the vortex draw back slightly, a little closer to the enemy ship that projected it. On her primary screen, a Chiss clawcraft swooped in from behind. “Covering you, Rogue Eleven.”

  Now! Jaina tightened her index finger on the main firing control, loosing a solid burst from all four of her lasers. The skip’s tiny, projected gravity well bent her laser blast, but she’d shot high to compensate. The anomaly sent two of her shots wild. It focused the other two exactly where she wanted them, painting the crystal-paneled cockpit with flaming sheets of light.

  We’ve got the tactics to beat them in an even fight, now. But it’s never even. They keep killing us and keep coming. Their ships even heal themselves! The Yuuzhan Vong had converted whole worlds into coralskipper nurseries and blasted one of the New Republic’s biggest military shipyards, at Fondor. Surviving major yards—Kuat, Mon Calamari, Bilbringi—had gone to full alert, with carrier groups deployed to defend them.

  Crystal shards and hot gravel blasted off the coralskipper, propelling it into a slow spiral out of the fire zone. The Yuuzhan Vong pilot didn’t eject. They all died with their ships—by choice, it seemed.

  And still they kept coming, while New Republic pilots were pulled home to defend their own systems.

  “You’re clear, Ten,” Jaina exclaimed.

  “Thanks, Sticks.”

  “Anytime.” Jaina pulled to starboard and spotted a catastrophe in the making. “Rogues, more skips coming in at 349 mark 18. They’re headed for Champ’s drive nacelles.”

  “Copy that.” Major Alinn Varth, commander of Jaina’s flight, put an edge on her voice. “Time to make coral dust. Eleven, Twelve. On me.”

  Jaina double-clicked her comm to acknowledge the order, then pushed her throttle forward. She inverted her X-wing, following Rogue Nine over Champion’s ventral surface, so close and so low she could almost count rectennae and rivets.

  Brevet Admiral Glie’oleg Kru, a Twi’lek, commanded Champion. Since Fondor, Jaina heard about a newly made captain or admiral at almost every engagement. Other worlds recently lost—Gyndine, Bimmiel, and Tynna. Here at Kalarba, Jaina’s intelligence briefer had speculated that the aliens were trying to cut the Corellian Run, a vital hyperspace route to the Rim. Druckenwell and Rodia had just gone to full alert.

  Another convoy of Kalarban ships, including dozens fleeing the ruin of Hosk Station, had just jumped. Despite all efforts to find and destroy a huge dovin basal the Yuuzhan Vong had obviously dropped on Kalarba, Hosk was losing altitude with each orbit. Its Hyrotii Zebra fighters were long gone, all ten of its turbolasers disabled. Enemy vessels that showed on her screen as many-legged creatures pursued the metal-sheathed moon, gobbling up shuttles that lagged behind the convoy. Hosk’s polar cluster of towers was already skewed more than thirty degrees from its normal orientation. Soon Kalarba would be another dead world, useless even to the Yuuzhan Vong.

  Jaina rounded Champion’s starboard fighter docking bays into a blazing free-for-all. Three coralskippers jumped her, flinging brilliant plasma bolts. Her pulse pounded as she went evasive, juking in all directions without thinking, keeping her right middle finger tight on the secondary trigger.

  “Sparky,” she ordered her astromech droid, “I need one hundred percent shields at thirteen meters.”

  Letters flashed on her heads-up display as the R5 unit, her companion ever since joining Rogue Squadron, complied just in time. Static buzzed in her headset. A dovin basal grabbed for her shields.

  Another new skip vectored low and to port. Jaina feathered her etheric rudder and shoved the stick over, chasing while stars spun. Just that much closer, Vong. Just that much closer …

  Her torp brackets went red with a lock-on. Triumphant, she squeezed off a proton torpedo. As it rode blue flame toward the alien fighter, she held course, squeezing off more scarlet splinters, distracting the dovin basal—

  “Eleven,” a voice cried in her ear. “Break starboard!”

  Hutt slime! Jaina goosed her throttle and broke, pitching against her flight harness. The X-wing shuddered. “I’m hit,” she cried. Adrenaline made her clench the controls. She eyed her primary board. “Still got shields, though.” She feathered stick and rudder, bringing the X-wing about. “And maneuvering.”

  But now she was mad. Coralskippers, designated scarlet on her heads-up display, swarmed Champion and its defenders. But one, swooping back toward Champion, had to be the skip that just put scorch marks on her S-foils.

  She rammed her throttle forward.

  Now she saw the big enemy ship astern of Champion. Just smaller than a Star Destroyer, its configuration reminded her of some weird marine creature. Its thickest arm pointed forward, probably command and control. Two thinner arms stuck out dorsally, two ventrally.From the ventral arms, blinding plasma was already pouring out at Champion.

  Two flights of New Republic E-wings swooped in to hit the new arrival. Staying hot on her skip’s tail, Jaina squeezed her stutter trigger.

  “Rogues.” The colonel’s cry caught her off guard. “Somebody just sucked Champ’s shields. Get clear!”

  What had they done, brought in another big one just out of Jaina’s line of sight? She wrenched her stick and punched for full speed.

  She was passing Champion’s port nacelle when light broke through from deep inside. Slowly, with an eerie, fatal beauty, a seam opened on Champ’s glossy side.

  “Sticks,” a voice shouted in her ear. “Eleven, get clear!”

  “Full power, Sparky!” Jaina called. “Go—”

  The blast flung her against her instrument panel. Rudder pedals seemed to crush up through her legs. Her cockpit’s sides buckled, then vanished. A siren shrieked in her ears, blaring in rhythm with a synthesized voice.

  “Ejection. Ejection.”

  She flailed down into the Force, grasping desperately. Almost …

  A white explosion of pain washed awareness away.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jacen Solo stood with his father outside the mud-block refugee hut they were sharing on Duro. Jacen’s brown coveralls had accumulated a layer of grit and dust, and his wavy, dark brown hair fell over his ears, not quite long enough to pull back into a tail. Under a translucent gray dome, tension wrapped around him like a Zharan glass-snake—invisible, but so palpable through the Force that he could almost feel its coils constrict.

  Something was about to happen. He could feel it coming when he listened through the Force. Something vital, but …

  What?

  A Ryn female—velvet-furred with a spiked mane, her tail and forearm bristles graying with age—stood talking to Jacen’s dad, Han Solo.

  “Those are our caravan ships,” she bellowed, waving her hands. “Ours.” She snorted, and the breath whonked through four holes in her chitinous beak.

  Han swung around, narrowly missing Jacen with his left arm. “And right at this moment, we can’t afford to take them offworld to run systems checks. You’ve been in a restricted area, Mezza.”

  Splashes of red-orange fur highlighted Mezza’s soft taupe coat. Her blue tail tip trembled, a gesture Jacen had learned to interpret as impatience.

  “Of course we’ve been in the ship lot,” she snapped. “There’s never been a security fence Ryn
couldn’t get inside, and those are our caravan ships. Ours.” She tapped her threadbare vest, which covered an ample chest. “And don’t tell me to trust you, Captain. We do. It’s SELCORE we don’t trust. SELCORE, and the people up there.” She waved her arm skyward.

  Han’s mouth twitched, and seventeen-year-old Jacen could almost feel him trying not to laugh. Jacen’s dad could sympathize with refugees making unofficial reconnaissances, especially on board their own ships. But Han was in charge now. Instead of showing his amusement, he was supposed to enforce SELCORE regulations—publicly, at least, for the sake of a few juvenile offenders. He and Mezza would undoubtedly settle the real issues later, in private.

  So Han plunged back into the argument.

  Jacen watched the show, trying to pick up one more piece of the puzzle he felt in every cell of his being. Trained as a Jedi and unusually perceptive, he could tell that the Force was about to move. To shift.

  This time, he didn’t dare miss the clues.

  His right cheekbone twinged. He touched it self-consciously, then swept his hair back from his face. It needed cutting, but no one here cared what he looked like. His legs were still growing, his shoulders broadening. He felt like an awkward hybrid of trained Jedi and barely grown boy.

  He leaned against his hut’s outer wall and stared out over his new home. The dome had been engineered by SELCORE, the New Republic Senate Select Committee for Refugees, to hold a thousand settlers. Naturally, twelve hundred had been squeezed in. Besides these outcast Ryn, there were several hundred desperate humans, delicate Vors, Vuvrians with their enormous round heads—and one young Hutt.

  And the relentless Yuuzhan Vong kept sweeping across the galaxy, destroying whole worlds, enslaving or sacrificing planetary populations. Lush Ithor, lawless Ord Mantell, and Obroa-skai with its fabulous libraries—all had fallen to the merciless invaders. Hutt space and the Mid Rim worlds along the Corellian Run were under attack. If the Yuuzhan Vong could be stopped, the New Republic hadn’t figured out how.