by Troy Denning
“Okay, fellas, stop right there. Drop those . . .” Han hesitated when he realized that it was not blaster pistols the insects were holding. “. . . shatter guns and tell me why you shot up my landspeeder.”
The Gorog began to thrum, raising their weapons as they turned.
“You know why,” C-3PO translated. “The Night Herald told you to stay out of Gorog’s business.”
“Too bad.” Han leveled his DL-44 at the closest bug’s head. “Now hold it right there.”
They did not, of course, and Han put a blaster bolt through the first one’s head the instant its shatter gun swung toward him. He burned another hole through the thorax of the second bug as it extended its weapon arm, then Luke dropped down behind the group with his lightsaber blazing. The blade droned a couple of times and two more Gorog fell, then the stump around Han erupted into acrid-smelling bark shards as the surviving insects squeezed off their first shots. Han fired back, Luke’s blade whined again, and the last two insects collapsed.
Han stood, holding his blaster in both hands, and Luke lowered his blade and spun in a slow circle, examining each of the corpses. He had almost finished when he suddenly staggered, then abruptly shut down his lightsaber.
“Blast!”
“What’s wrong?” Han started forward. “I didn’t hit you with a stray, did I?”
Luke turned with a scowl. “I’m a little better than that, Han.” He lifted his gore-slimed boot and scraped the sole across a Gorog mandible, then said, “They’re all dead. I was hoping to get some answers out of them.”
R2-D2 chirped something from the tree stump, then began to rock back and forth on his treads.
“What is it, Artoo?” Luke asked.
“He says you might be able to ask one of the six who were talking to the smugglers,” C-3PO translated helpfully. “They’re on the way up now.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re coming to talk to us,” Han said.
After a quick scan of the area to make sure there were no other Killik surprise parties, Han and Luke returned to their original hiding place. The six Gorog were clambering up the slope with their weapons drawn. The four Aqualish smugglers had broken out G-9 power blasters and were kneeling on their hoversled, hiding behind the barrels of reactor fuel and aiming up the slope to cover the insects. The Neimoidian was fleeing toward the far side of the old building foundation.
“I’ve got the smugglers.” Luke started toward the low end of the root. “Take the Gorog—and remember, we need one alive. I want to find out what that reactor fuel is for.”
Han caught him by the arm. “Those bugs have shatter guns,” he said. “Maybe we should just run for it. You know how the Dark Nest is. Once we’re back over the hill with the loggers, they won’t want to show themselves.”
“I’m not worried, Han,” Luke said. “You’re covering me.”
“Look, kid, I don’t have their range,” Han said. “And your lightsaber isn’t that good against those pellets.”
“It’s okay. You’ll do fine.”
Luke moved along the root’s length until it covered him only from the chest down. The hillside erupted into a river of blaster bolts and magnetically accelerated projectiles.
Han cursed Luke’s misplaced optimism and began to fire back. His bolts either flew wide or crackled into nothingness before they reached their targets, but they gave the bugs something to think about. Most of the shatter gun pellets thumped harmlessly into the mud below them, and the few that didn’t crackled past far overhead.
The power blasters were another matter. Their bolts sizzled into the other side of the root with unnerving accuracy, filling the air with smoke and wood chips. Han sent a couple of bolts their way just to see if he could startle the Aqualish into putting their heads down. They didn’t even flinch, and smoke began to drift through holes on Han and Luke’s side of the root.
Then Luke extended a hand toward the stump behind the smugglers, and the barrel they had already off-loaded rose into the air and came crashing down into the middle of the hoversled. Several of the containers broke, spilling hundreds of gallons of coolant and dozens of meter-long gray rods. The Aqualish stopped firing and jumped off the sled, fleeing after the Neimoidian.
The Gorog glanced over their shoulders, then began to drum their thoraxes in anger. Han thought for a moment that they would charge, but four of them simply fanned out across the slope to take up holding positions. The other two rushed back toward the hoversled.
“Are they crazy?” Han gasped. “Ten minutes with those rods in the open like that, and they’ll start glowing.”
“Gorog doesn’t care. It wants that fuel.” Luke stepped back into full cover behind the root. “If our tracking equipment still works—”
“Run for your lives!” C-3PO came around the tree stump at a full clank, waving the electrobinoculars Han had passed him earlier. “We’re doomed!”
“Doomed?” Han stepped out to intercept the droid—then nearly lost his head as a shatter gun pellet came hissing past his ear. He stepped back into the shelter of the root, pulling C-3PO after him. “What are you talking about?”
C-3PO turned and pointed back toward the landspeeder. “The Fizz! It has the landspeeder!”
“The Fizz?” Han asked. “Out here?”
“Perhaps we brought it with us,” C-3PO suggested.
An alarmed whistle sounded from above, then R2-D2 rolled off the edge of the stump and began to drop. He would have crashed on their heads had Luke not reached out with the Force and caught him.
Luke lowered R2-D2 to the ground, then leaned down. “What’s wrong with you, Artoo? You could have hurt someone.”
R2-D2 whistled a long reply.
“Artoo says it probably doesn’t matter,” C-3PO translated. “There’s a seventy-three percent chance that we’re disintegrating already.”
“Come on.” Though R2-D2 was not normally given to doomsaying, Han tried not to be shaken by his evaluation of the situation. Despite the temporary repairs Luke had done on the little droid’s personality, he was still acting as strangely as a Defel in a tanning booth. “It can’t be that bad. I was just up there, and I didn’t see any froth.”
R2-D2 chirped curtly.
“Artoo suggests you go see for yourself,” C-3PO translated. “Though I don’t think that’s a very good idea. It’s all over the ground.”
“All over the ground?” Han frowned, thinking. “Under the landspeeder? Where all that fuel spilled?”
“Precisely,” C-3PO said. “And spreading rapidly. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire landspeeder was engulfed by now.”
“Great.” Luke turned and started back toward the landspeeder. “I left the tracking set in the front seat.”
“Hold on.” Han caught him by the back of his robe. “I don’t think it’s going to matter.”
Luke stopped but didn’t turn around. “It’s not?”
“Not if what I’m thinking is right.” Han holstered his blaster and extended his hand toward C-3PO. “Threepio, hand me the electrobinoculars.”
The droid looked down as though astonished to discover he was still holding the viewing device, then extended his arm. “Of course, Captain Solo—though I really don’t think they’re a viable substitute for the tracking set. Once the hoversled passes out of your sight line, they’ll be no good to you at all.”
“I don’t think that hoversled will pass out of my sight line.”
Han peered over the edge of the root and found the Gorog rear guard still holding their positions. The other two had reached the hoversled and were using their bare pincers to throw the spilled fuel rods back into the cargo bed. Han flipped the electrobinoculars to full power, then lifted them to his eyes and began to study the ground beneath the hoversled.
Luke came to his side. “What are you looking for?”
“Tell you in a minute,” Han said, “in case I’m wrong about this and need to make something up to keep from embarrassing myself.”
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A series of sharp bangs sounded as shatter gun pellets began to strike the root, jarring Han so hard that the eyepieces slammed against his cheekbones. He stopped bracing himself on the root and continued to peer through the electrobinoculars.
“Uh, Han, maybe we should find a better observation post,” Luke said. “This is getting dangerous.”
“I’m not worried, kid,” Han said. “You can cover me.”
“Very funny,” Luke replied. “But my blaster’s range isn’t much better than yours.”
“It’s okay.” Han continued to study the ground beneath the hoversled. “You’ll do fine.”
Luke sighed, but he pulled his blaster and began to return fire. He must have actually hit something, because the pellet impacts dwindled to almost nothing. Han’s arms started to ache from holding the electrobinoculars up, so he braced his hands back on the root and continued to watch.
The Gorog had almost finished loading the hoversled when they suddenly dropped one of the fuel rods and leapt into the cargo bed. They carefully began to examine the others, and Han was confused for a moment, until they tossed another rod onto the ground. It landed almost perpendicular to him, so that he noted a silver sheen starting to glitter along one side of its dull gray surface.
Han smiled in satisfaction, then backed away from the root and passed the electrobinoculars to Luke. “Take a look.”
They exchanged equipment, and Han began to trade fire with the sole member of the Gorog rear guard that Luke had not already killed. Somehow, Han’s shots kept sizzling out about thirty meters shy of their target.
After a moment, Luke said, “So that’s what you were talking about. The Fizz.”
“Almost,” Han said. “Look at what it’s not on.”
“You mean the rocks in that old foundation?” Luke asked.
“And the stumps,” Han confirmed. “If it’s in the ground around here, how come it’s leaving all that stuff alone? How come it’s only attacking our landspeeder, and that coolant, and those fuel rods spilled around their hoversled?”
Luke lowered the electrobinoculars and turned to Han. “Contamination?”
Han nodded. “It only attacks what attacks Woteba,” he said. “It’s an environmental defense system.”
SEVEN
The steamy spa air smelled of mineral mud and pore cleanser, and the soothing notes of a classic feegharp sonata were wafting out of the sound system, not quite masking the gentle whirring and tinking of the Lovolan Beauty Artist installed in one corner of the room. Reclining on the droid’s built-in comfort chair was a mud-masked, seaweed-wrapped mummy whom Jacen assumed to be Tenel Ka’s grandmother, Ta’a Chume. Her scalp was being kneaded by an undulating massage hood, while each of her eyelids was hidden beneath the translucent star of what looked like some small, tentacled sea creature. There was even a beverage dispenser that automatically swung a draw nozzle out to her lips, since both hands were enveloped inside automatic manicure gloves.
When Jacen sensed no other living presences nearby, he entered the spa. He passed a series of sunken basins filled with bubbling mud, water, and something that looked like pink Hutt slime, then stopped beside the droid. Ta’a Chume showed no sign of sensing his presence, and for a moment he considered whether simply ending her life might not be the surest way to protect his daughter. Certainly, the old woman deserved it. She had been liquidating inconvenient people since before Jacen and Tenel Ka were born, and currently she was under house arrest for poisoning Tenel Ka’s mother. At one time, Ta’a Chume had even attempted to have Jacen’s own mother assassinated.
But Tenel Ka had asked him not to kill the old woman, saying she would deal with her grandmother’s treachery in her own way. Jacen suspected that meant a long and very public trial, in which Ta’a Chume might well escape conviction due to a lack of verifiable evidence—and Jacen was, quite simply, not willing to run that risk with his daughter’s life.
Jacen took his lightsaber off its belt hook, but did not activate the blade. “I see you’re making the most of your house arrest, Ta’a Chume.”
A hole appeared in the mud mask as Ta’a Chume’s mouth fell open, then she pulled out of the massage hood and raised her head. The sea creatures left her eyelids and slid down her cheeks, leaving trails of exposed skin in their wakes.
“Jacen Solo,” Ta’a Chume said. “I’d ask how you sneaked into my private chambers—but that’s what Jedi do, isn’t it?”
“Among other things.” Noting that she had not taken her hands out of the manicure gloves, he said, “You can signal for help all you like—your bodyguards won’t be coming—but please don’t attempt to point that hold-out blaster at me. I promised Tenel Ka I wouldn’t kill you, and I’ll be very angry if you make me break my word.”
Ta’a Chume’s eyes faded to paler shade of green, but she cracked her mud mask by forcing a superior smile. “What a pity—when I saw you standing there with a lightsaber, I thought my granddaughter had finally grown a spine.”
“Had Tenel Ka lacked courage, you would have died never knowing I was here,” Jacen said. “Instead she’s willing to risk keeping you alive for a public trial. Her security team will be arriving soon. I’ve made sure they won’t need to kill anyone to reach you.”
The tension left Ta’a Chume’s shoulders. “How very considerate of you.” A cunning light came to her eyes, then she slowly removed her hand from the manicure glove and dropped a small hold-out blaster to the floor. “Would you mind telling me why?”
“You know why,” Jacen said. Ta’a Chume was playing a game with him—he could feel it in her presence as clearly as he heard it in her voice—but what he could not figure out was the reason. “You tried to kill her daughter.”
Ta’a Chume poured anger into the Force, but her voice grew aggrieved. “The Queen Mother has a child?” She drew her second hand out of the manicure glove and pressed her fingers to her temples. “And she did not even trouble to tell her own grandmother?”
Jacen scowled. “Your act isn’t fooling me. I sense your true emotions in the Force.”
“Then you must sense how shocked I am—and worried.” Ta’a Chume put her hands down and turned to look at him, but her gaze lingered on his chest, running up and down the lapels, pausing at every wrinkle. “Certainly, I resent being imprisoned on the orders of my own granddaughter, but I’d never wish her harm—much less have anything to do with it!”
Jacen finally understood. “There is no spycam, Ta’a Chume.” He pulled his robe open to show her that he had no equipment hidden underneath. “I’m here looking for answers to my own questions—not gathering evidence for Tenel Ka.”
“That never crossed my mind, Jedi Solo, but I do hope that when you see my granddaughter again, you’ll be good enough to pass along my concern for her and her daughter.” Ta’a Chume looked up and batted her eyes at him. “By the by, you wouldn’t happen to know who the father is, would you?”
The smirk in Ta’a Chume’s voice was clear, as though she was taunting Jacen, telling him that he would never beat her at this particular game—and it made him angry.
“That would be me.” Jacen stepped around behind the beauty droid and used the Force to pull Ta’a Chume back in the seat. “And I’m very determined to protect my daughter.”
Ta’a Chume grew nervous. “What are you doing?”
“I’d like some answers, and we don’t have long before the security team arrives.”
Jacen pushed the scalp hood aside, then plunged his fingers into Ta’a Chume’s red-dyed hair and began to massage her scalp.
“So we can do this the easy way . . .” He pressed his thumbs into the base of her skull, then sent a tiny charge of Force energy shooting through her brain. “. . . or we can do it the hard way.”
Ta’a Chume gasped in pain, then said, “You’re a Jedi! You can’t do this.”
“Sure I can,” Jacen said. “The Jedi learned some new tricks during the war with the Yuuzhan Vong—or hadn’t you heard?”
>
Jacen felt a warning jolt from Ben, whom he had left hidden with his skiff outside Ta’a Chume’s estate, then heard the distant crump of the front gates being blown by Tenel Ka’s security team.
Ta’a Chume’s head twitched toward the sound, and Jacen knew that she believed her arresters would be her saviors—that if she could just hold out long enough, her secrets would remain safe. He sent another charge of Force energy into her mind.
This time he did not stop with a short surge. He continued to pour more Force energy into Ta’a Chume’s head, pushing in behind it, expanding his own Force presence inside her mind. He was not as sure or strong with the technique as Raynar—in fact, he was not even sure it was the same technique—but he was good enough to overpower a surprised old woman who did not know how to use the Force.
A long cry escaped Ta’a Chume’s lips; as it died away, Jacen felt her resistance crumble. Outside on the palace grounds, voices began to yell commands at Ta’a Chume’s servants.
Jacen ignored the commotion and leaned close to Ta’a Chume’s ear. “First, I want to know why.”
Ta’a Chume tried to resist. “Why wha . . .” Jacen pushed harder, and she said, “You couldn’t believe I would allow the child of two Jedi to claim the throne. Hapes will never be a Jedi kingdom!”
“I don’t think that’s Tenel Ka’s intention.”
“It is your intention that concerns me,” Ta’a Chume said. “You’ve already persuaded Tenel Ka to involve a Hapan fleet in a matter of no concern to us. I won’t allow you to make a Jedi tool of the Hapes Consortium.”
“You see? That wasn’t so hard. Now tell me about the Dark Nest.”
“The Dark Nest?”
“The Gorog,” Jacen clarified. It felt like she was genuinely confused. “The Killiks. How did you get them to go after the baby?”
Muffled crashing sounds started to rumble up through the palace itself, and Ta’a Chume began to hope again that she could hold out.