Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Somewhere in the Tingel Arm, Wild Space

Anarchy. There was no other word for it.

Fleet Admiral Araic Simonetti watched the scene unfold, half sure it was a dream, as the two largest Vong ships collided with one another. The Special Operations fleet had arrived smack in the middle of what looked to be a civil war between two rival Vong factions and the Peace Brigade. Araic had been right: their command was in total meltdown. Perhaps they finally realised their gods were not coming to save them.

‘Report,’ Araic said, his eyes still fixed on the chaos outside.

The Final Way was now in orbit of what appeared to be a cluster of rough planetoids. Any last reservations the admiral may have had about Operation Rancor dissolved. What he saw outside was not possible.

He had never been to Alderaan or seen the Graveyard left in the wake of the Death Star's superlaser, except in holovids, but it seemed a good enough analogy. This was not so much a hidden base as a shipwreck. A worldshipwreck. The scorch marks and the impact craters from the bombardment three years ago still covered the desolate surface of the Telosian Worldship. He had believed it destroyed and left it to fall apart on reentry to Telos's atmosphere. But apparently, somehow, it had survived—albeit no longer in one piece. The now lifeless rocks seemed to have become the shells for a new generation of warships.

It was a good job they had discovered it before it was too late.

Araic clamped down on the thought before he could picture the alternative future in his mind. He would see to it none of the Vong ships under construction ever saw completion.

Finally, one of the ensigns gave the status report, ‘The few surviving Peace Brigade ships seem to be under fire from all sides. Hard to say which Vong ships are which. Quite a few seem to be focused on the Super Star Destroyer analog that attacked Sepros.’

Araic studied what he surmised must have been the Vong command ship, larger than anything in the entire Dlarit fleet, either here or recovering back at Orian. It appeared to have been built directly out of one of the chunks of planetoids it orbited, no doubt the first of the new warships to see completion. But right then it appeared to be descending towards at an alarming pace—sometimes size was not the answer, as the Final Way itself was testament to. A grim smile crossed the admiral's lips as he thought about the biological payload now waiting in the hangar: the Violator Gas Bomb.

‘All teams to their stations. This war ends here.’

Eight men, dressed in loud orange biohazard suits, hoisted the durasteel brick the size of a small rancor onto their shoulders. The sides of the grey brick were striped with yellow and black warnings, and had the obligatory ‘DANGER: DO NOT TOUCH’ lettering in massive red characters on every side. Behind their faceplates, the men did not appear worried; but in the Force, Agrist could sense their unease as if the odious feeling was literally pouring off them.

The Violator Gas stored inside had the potency to kill every single being on the ship with only a few drops.

An entire warhead full was enough to take out every Vong in the system—at least, if there had been a nearby system; out here in the bleak abandonment of Wild Space, it would simply kill everything in the local vicinity.

Damian Voss issued directions as he guided the men up the steps of the Bantha-class assault shuttle that would ferry the bomb to the Super Star Destroyer analog, where it would then be able to cause a chain reaction, which—scientifically speaking—would take out every Vong in the region.

More likely, Agrist thought, the Violator Gas would simply kill everything nearby. Violator Gas did not discriminate. It just was more effective at killing Vong than anything else.

Which was an impressive feat for something that had seen a one-hundred percent success rate in front line deployment against everything else.

Elsewhere in the hangar, the men who had not already headed out were crawling into their XJs, suited up in the dark jumpsuits and flight gear of Special Operations pilots or commandos. Simonetti was holding nothing back for Operation Rancor. Even the newly built XJ3s would see their first proper test; constructed specifically to combat Vong technology, what better time to put them to use?

The war against the Vong had gone on to long.

It was time to end it.

XJ X-Wing Rancor’s Fang 1
Tingel Arm, Wild Space

Nix sent his XJ into a dive, jinking and juking as the coralskipper behind tried to get a lock, currently spitting balls of plasma indiscriminately.

‘Come on you kriffing scarhead!’

His XJ shook as a blast clipped one of the port wings, sending it cartwheeling. He fought to get the starfighter back under control when a second ball of red and yellow exploded around him.

‘Take that Huttkarker!' came Raven’s voice over the comm. ‘Wolfman, you owe me one.’

The Shistavanen muttered something under his breath, then said, ‘I still count two more for Sapphire.’

The channel crackled with static for a moment. ‘Think you mean only one more,’ Raven chuckled.

‘Both of you keep your minds on the battle,’ Manji's voice broke in. ‘We’ve still a corridor to clear to get that bomb safely onto the Vong flagship.’

Bantha-class assault shuttle Rancor 2
Leaving the Final Way’s hangar, Tingel Arm, Wild Space

Dyrra was glad Fremoc’s team had been assigned to the shuttle carrying the VGB rather than her. Even on a completely different ship, being this close to that large of a payload still made her uneasy. Admiral Simonetti was insane, but the fiery redhead knew it was necessary; she’d have done no different herself.

Dyrra stared out the viewport as the shuttle headed out into the total darkness of space. This far out from anywhere, there was no light apart from the pinpricks in the incalculable distance. The only sign of anything was the lights from each individual ship, or the red glow the Vong ships emitted around the mouths of their plasma cannons. Were it not for the eerie glow of the desolate planetoids, everything would have been pitch black.

The massive Vong grand cruiser grew larger and larger as they flew towards it, the XJs flying support around them and the other two assault shuttles. This was it. This was what it had come down to. Six years since the Yuuzhan Vong first entered the galaxy, it was time to bring it all to an end, and rescue Ashura and the Overlord’s son.

Maybe the Antei and the Galactic Alliance believed themselves safe, but the future of the Sadow dynasty still hung in the balance.

‘Decoy Two, we’re just exiting the hangar now,’ Fremoc’s still bitter voice crackled over the comm.

Dyrra suppressed her first response, Who the kriff you calling decoy?

Instead she said, ‘Understood. We’re on our way to the objective now. Will rendezvous with you when we get there.’

‘Acknowledged. . .’ Fremoc paused a moment, then added, ‘Let’s teach these karkers why they shouldn’t frack with us.’

Kor Chokk Grand Cruiser Yammka’s Sword
Freefall, Baanu Amnan Orbit, Tingel Arm, Wild Space

Another blaze bug blinked out and clattered to the ground alongside Varesh's feet as the Yammka rumbled from another aftershock. The dovin basals were failing and they were losing altitude over the nearest chunk of the dead worldship. Had Tolok Amnan gone completely insane? The impact of the Voice of Agony had come without warning. Everywhere the same series of events seemed to be unfolding. It was as if the entire Domain Amnan fleet had been taken over; coralskippers launching themselves in kamikaze runs indiscriminately, all but reverting to the asteroids they had originally come from. The Yammka Vong were now caught in a three way crossfire between the Peace Brigade, the Sseeth and the rival Yuuzhan Vong heretics.

Coiled around Varesh's arm, the Scepter of Power hissed as he thumbed the activator for the lightsaber in his other hand on and off. Snap-hiss, snap-hiss, snap-hiss . . .

‘I am surrounded by Shamed Ones,’ the leader of the Yammka Vong muttered, out of earshot of all but Tsaak. ‘Had it not been for the priestess, I would have exterminated the Sseeth entirely.’

Tsaak rubbed a finger along his forehead, smearing it with the dead priestess’s blood. ‘The High Priestess was a heretic,’ he said coldly, not hiding the contempt he had long held for Seef Lacap. ‘However this way you get to crush the Sseeth in battle. Think of it as the will of the Slayer, Fearsome One, instead of the deception of the Trickster that simply killing them in their sleep would have been.’

Varesh considered the seer’s words, then nodded. ‘True, true. This is why you have always been my true augury, Tsaak.’

A viewspider stalk uncoiled from above in front of the pair. The surfaces of the eyes along the its length rippled for a moment, then reflected the image of a much disfigured Yuuzhan Vong, a grotesque lump pulsating out one side of his head. The figure leered out of the lenses with an unnatural intensity.

‘Varesh Shai . . .’ the image whispered slowly. ‘We meet at last.’

‘Who is this?’ Varesh snapped, narrowing his eyes at the informal address.

The figure smirked. ‘I would not expect you to know me. I was but a lowly Shamed One. A slave who sought out the Light.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Retribution.’

Even in the image on the viewspider, the sparks across the Shamed One's body were unmistakable. Varesh’s eyes widened, and he saw Tsaak do the same.

‘Jeedai . . .’ they both said in unison.

The Shamed One grunted. ‘No. I am Vasi Khess, the Chosen of the Extolled. I am the new God.’ The smile across Vasi’s face drained away into a death mask. ‘And I'm coming for you, Warmaster. The Extolled are coming to take back what is theirs.’

The image crackled with static, then a white spark shot along the viewspider and the eye stalk fell slack from the ceiling, dangling loose.

It took a few moments for either of the two Yammka Vong to say anything.

‘What . . . was that?’ Varesh said, more to himself than necessarily Tsaak.

Romm Shai called from the front of the command deck, ‘Warmaster, there are reports of a Shamed One revolt in the lower decks where the Voice of Agony collided.’

Varesh did not reply. An uprising?

Finally, Tsaak said, ‘That Shamed One . . . could he be what delays the Dread Lord's return? Perhaps it was not the Sseeth heresy that must be cleansed . . .’

When Varesh still did not answer, Tsaak added, ‘Fearsome One, if you wish to withdraw, there is no harm.’

Varesh spun round from the dead viewspider to the seer.

‘Withdraw? A true servant of the Slayer does not run from battle.’

The Warmaster glanced out the main window to the devastation outside as another coralskipper impacted not far from where they were standing. ‘If it is my time for Blessed Release, then I will go without fear as the true Avatar of the War God.’

He turned back to Tsaak again. ‘A Warmaster does not retreat. But you . . . Leave that you may carry on the work of the Yammka Vong should I fall. These heretics,’ he gestured around as if to take in the whole fleet, ‘they who have not embraced the Children of War—they do not understand the Truth. Go, my seer, leave that the work of the Supreme Overlord may continue no matter my fate. If it is the will of the Slayer that I die here with the Sseeth, then so be it. I will have fulfilled my role in the Great Sacrifice.’

As if reading his thoughts, the Scepter of Power uncoiled from around Varesh's arm and extended into a spear in his free hand as he thumbed the lightsaber back on in his other. ‘But this Vasi Khess, I will ensure that he falls to my sword before I do to theirs.’