by Troy Denning
Saba glared down at Tarfang. “Then why did you say you could help us find our friendz?”
Tarfang jabbered an answer.
“Because the XR-eight-oh-eight-g has been assigned a cargo for Yoggoy,” C-3PO translated, “and when a ship is assigned a cargo for Yoggoy, it is also assigned a Yoggoy to serve as its navigator for the trip.”
“Fine,” Leia said. Even she seemed to be losing patience. “Help us get a cargo, and we’ll pay you for consulting.”
Tarfang rattled off a long response, which C-3PO translated as, “Tarfang suggests you simply give Captain Juun the money. They’ll check on our friends and give us a report when they return.”
“Sure they will.” Han turned to the others, then nodded toward the door. “We’re wasting our time here.”
Luke motioned Han to wait, his gaze fixed on Tarfang. Han realized for the first time that Mara was no longer with them; under circumstances like these, she had an uncanny knack for slipping away unnoticed.
Finally, Luke turned back to Han. “Tarfang’s not trying to swindle us, Han. He really does want to work out an honest deal.”
Tarfang snarled something at the Jedi Master.
“He wasn’t stealing your thoughts,” C-3PO said to the Ewok. “Master Luke is not a thief.”
Tarfang whirled on the droid and yapped a command.
“Very well. But I wouldn’t blame him if he used his lightsaber on you.” C-3PO turned to Luke. “Tarfang is threatening to remove your eyes if you do that again.”
“Oh, that scares him,” Han said to the Ewok. “You want to make a deal? Here it is: two hundred credits to get us a cargo.”
To Han’s surprise, it was Saba who answered. “He can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Lizil wouldn’t allow it,” Luke said. “He—or she— doesn’t want us to find Jaina and the others.”
“They,” Juun corrected.
Luke frowned. “What?”
“They,” Juun said.
The Sullustan continued to work, soldering what looked like the rear hold powerfeed onto the main cabin output. Han would have said something, but he had long ago learned never to tell another captain how to maintain his own ship. Besides, anyone who looked at the Falcon’s main control board would probably have just as many doubts about his work as he was having about Juun’s.
“Lizil isn’t their leader.” Juun looked up from his work, dragging the hot tip of his soldering iron across the flux-inhibitor circuitry “Lizil is them.”
“They all share one name?” Leia asked.
“In a sense, but it’s more than that. The way they think of it, they’re all Lizil together. Lizil is the nest, but so are all of the members.”
“They don’t have an individual sense of identity?” Leia asked.
“I think that’s so,” Juun said. “But I’m not really current on my xenobiological definitions.”
Tarfang chortled something helpful sounding.
“Master Tarfang says that it’s only important to remember that when you say Lizil, you might be talking about the entire nest or any of its members.”
Tarfang chattered something impatient.
“And you’ll never be sure which,” C-3PO added.
“Cozy,” Han said. “So why doesn’t Lizil want us to find Jaina?”
When Juun hesitated, Tarfang let out a long, urgent chitter.
“But nobody said it wasn’t secret,” Juun countered.
“You are being rockheaded,” Saba rasped. “Something is only secret if—”
“Hold on,” Han said to Saba. The Sullustan mind was as stubborn as it was methodical, and the Barabel would only delay things by browbeating Juun. “It is a bit unclear.”
Saba glared at Han out of one dark eye.
“There are your implied agreements and your tacit obligations.” Han turned to Juun. “Am I right?”
The Sullustan nodded rapidly. “Only captains understand these things.”
“True,” Han said. “But aren’t you smugglers, too?”
Tarfang grunted an affirmative.
“There you have it, then,” Han said. He looked back to Juun. “You have to answer me.”
“I do?”
“Yeah.” Han allowed some of the impatience he was feeling to show in his voice. “The Smuggler’s Code says so.”
Juun looked back to his work and casually asked, “The Smuggler’s Code?”
“Item seven?” Han prompted. “I swear to help other smugglers, as long as it don’t cost me?”
“Yes, of course.” Juun’s beady-eyed gaze flicked back and forth across the master control board. It was impossible that he actually knew the Smuggler’s Code—Han was making it up— but nothing embarrassed most Sullustans more than admitting they did not know proper procedures. “Item seven. I’d almost forgotten.”
“I think that clears things up,” Leia said. She flashed Han an approving smile, then sat on her haunches beside Juun. “So what’s Lizil trying to hide?”
Juun began to solder the forward loading door’s powerfeed to the forward loading door’s control circuit. “You have seen the Joiners?”
Han expected Leia to shake her head, but she seemed to sense something from her brother and allowed Luke to respond for her.
“You mean Lizil’s translators?”
“Not translators,” Juun said. “Joiners. They’re Lizil, too.”
Saba lowered her scaly brow. “How can that be?” she rasped. “Most of them do not even have six limbz!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Juun said. “They’ve been absorbed.”
“Absorbed?” Han was having trouble following the conversation now, probably because he had not yet seen any of these “Joiners.” “Absorbed how?”
“Mentally, I suspect,” Luke said, keeping his eyes on Juun. “Is it some sort of brainwashing?”
Juun shrugged. “All I know is that when someone spends too long in a nest, he gets absorbed.”
“You’re saying that my daughter thinks she’s some kind of bug?” Han demanded, taking a step forward. “And you weren’t going to tell me?”
Juun jumped up and stepped behind Leia. “It’s not my fault!”
“Take it easy, Han,” Luke said. “We don’t know that has happened.”
“Do we know it hasn’t?” Han countered.
“Now you are being a rockhead,” Saba said. “We know nothing, not even where they are.”
Saba’s intervention reminded Han that he and Leia weren’t the only ones with a child at risk. Her son, Tesar, was one of the Jedi Knights who had followed Jaina into the Unknown Regions.
“Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Han touched Saba’s back—then swallowed hard, remembering that touching a Barabel uninvited was a good way to lose an arm. “Sometimes, I forget they’re Jedi.”
“Not to worry.” Saba thumped a scaly hand down on his shoulder. “This one forgetz sometimez, too.”
A moment of silence hung in the air as they recalled all they had lost at Myrkr, Anakin and Bela and Krasov and the others, and Han thought he could almost feel Saba reaching for him in the Force, trying to lend him the strength to have faith in his daughter’s abilities, to recall that she was a Jedi Knight and an ace star pilot and a hero as big in her war as he and Leia had been in theirs. It was not an easy thing for a father to keep in mind, but it was true, and—as Leia always said—in truth there was strength.
“All right already,” Han said, motioning Juun back to the control board. “You can go back to work. I’m better.”
Leia gave him an understanding wink, then turned back to Juun. “What does Lizil need with a group of Jedi Knights?”
“I don’t know,” Juun said. “But they left with Unu.”
“Unu?”
“The central nest,” Juun said. “Your daughter and the others were met by an escort of Unu guards.”
“More bugs?” Han had a sinking feeling. “Great.”
“Then there’s a
n organization of nests?” Leia asked Juun.
The Sullustan nodded. “The Colony.”
Han thought he was beginning to understand. “How big?”
Juun pulled a datapad from beneath his utilities, then began punching keys. “I have heard three hundred and seventy-five names.”
Luke whistled. “Enough to stretch from here to the Chiss frontier. Now this is beginning to make some sense.”
“How do you figure?” Han asked.
“The situation isn’t complicated,” Leia said. “The Colony is rubbing borders with the Chiss empire. It’s pretty clear why the central nest might want a team of Jedi Joiners on their side— especially this particular team.”
“Jedi commandos are good equalizers,” Han agreed. “But what I want to know is how the Colony got them to come out here in the first place.”
Several moments passed with no answer, and finally their gazes began to drift toward Juun. Tarfang’s eyes darted from one to the other of them, and finally he jabbered an angry denial.
“Tarfang asks that you stop looking at them,” C-3PO said. “He denies any involvement.”
“That’s not what we were implying,” Leia said.
“But we do need your help,” Luke said to Juun. “Han needs your help. We must find our Jedi Knights.”
Juun considered this for a moment, then said, “Perhaps there is a way. There’s room in the forward hold. If we hide you in there—”
“Forget it,” Han said. “We’re flying our own ships.”
“I’m afraid this is the only practical way,” Juun said. “I’ll be relying entirely on the guide myself.”
Han shook his head.
“Han, I know it’ll be crowded,” Luke said. “But it sounds like the best plan.”
“No, Luke,” Han said, discreetly eyeing the control board. “It really doesn’t.”
Luke’s gaze darted to the board and away again almost immediately, but he was not quick enough to escape Juun’s notice.
“Why are you looking at the control board?” he demanded. “You don’t trust me to maintain my own ship?”
“Well, you did slip with your solder.” Han stooped down and pointed at a silver line angling across the board. “You’re going to have a short running across your flux inhibitors.”
Juun studied the line, then said, “It’s nothing to worry about. I followed all the proper procedures.”
“Yeah, but you slipped—”
“It’s more than adequate. I’ll demonstrate.” Juun slipped the master plug onto the supply prongs, then waved Tarfang to the far side of the cabin. “Close the main breaker.”
“Juun, I don’t think that’s a good—”
A sharp clack echoed across the room. Han barely managed to close his eyes before the ship erupted into a tempest of bursting lamps and sizzling circuits. Leia and the others cried out in shock. When the crackling continued, Han pulled his blaster and, opening his eyes to what looked like a indoor lightning storm, shot through the wire array just above the master plug.
The popping and buzzing quickly died away, and the main cabin was again plunged into its previous green dimness. Juun dropped to his knees in front of the control board.
“Not again!”
“What did I tell you?” Han asked.
Tarfang returned to the group and studied his crestfallen captain a moment, then looked Han in the eye and spoke sharply.
“He says the cost just doubled, Captain Solo,” C-3PO said. “You must pay for the damages you caused.”
“I caused?” Han protested. “I told him not to—”
“We’ll be glad to replace the wire array Han destroyed saving the XR-eight-oh-eight-g,”Leia interrupted. “And we’ll do anything else we can to help Captain Juun complete his repairs . . . per item seven of the Smuggler’s Code.”
“You bet,” Han said, catching Leia’s strategy. “It’s not as bad as it sounded, or the smoke would be a lot thicker.”
Juun looked up, his small eyes round with wonder. “This is covered under item seven?”
“Oh, yeah,” Han said. “But we’re flying our own ships.”
“I’m sure we can think of a way to follow Captain Juun.” Luke spoke in a tone that suggested he had already solved this problem. “We may need to install a couple of pieces of equipment when we repair the wire array.”
Tarfang raised a lip, then jabbered a demand.
“What kind of equipment?” C-3PO translated.
“The secret kind,” Luke said, glaring at the Ewok.
Tarfang lowered his furry brow and glared back for a moment, then finally said something that C-3PO translated as, “Captain Juun will be taking a big risk. It’ll cost you.”
“Fine,” Luke said. He stepped close to Juun and Tarfang, and suddenly he seemed as large as a rancor. “But you know who we are. You understand what it will mean if you try to double-cross us?”
Tarfang shrank back, but Juun seemed untroubled.
“Double-cross Han Solo?” the Sullustan asked. “Who’d be crazy enough to do that?”
SEVEN
DOWN IN THE VALLEY, the Taat were scavenging along the flood-plain, their thoraxes glowing green in Jwlio’s hazy light. With the rest of their foraging territory brown and withering from a Chiss defoliant, the workers were stripping the ground bare, leaving nothing in their wake but rooj stubble and mud. It was a desperate act that would only deepen their famine in the future, but the insects had no choice. Their larvae were starving now.
In the midst of such poverty and hardship, Jaina Solo felt more than a little guilty eating green thakitillo, but it was the only thing on the menu tonight. Tomorrow, it would be brot-rib or krayt eggs or some other rarity more suitable to a state dinner than a field post, and she would eat that, too. The Taat would be insulted if she did not.
Jaina spooned a curd into her mouth, then glanced around the veranda at her companions. They were all seated on primitive spitcrete benches, holding their bowls in their laps and using small Force bubbles to keep the dust at bay. Despite the gritty winds raised by the tidal pull of Qoribu—Jwlio’s ringed gas giant primary—the group usually took their meals outdoors. No one wanted to spend more time than necessary in the muggy confines of the nest caves.
After the curd had dissolved, Jaina tapped her spoon against the bowl. “Okay,” she asked. “Who’s responsible for this?”
One by one, the others raised their gazes, their faces betraying various degrees of culpability as they examined their thoughts over the last week or so. Shortly after arriving, the team had discovered that whenever they talked about a particular food, th Taat would have a supply delivered within a few days. Concerned about squandering their hosts’ limited resources, Jaina had ordered the group to avoid talking about food in front of the Taat, then to avoid mentioning it at all.
Finally, Tesar Sebatyne flicked up a talon. “It may have been this one.”
“May have been?” Jaina asked. “Either you said something or you didn’t.”
Tesar’s dorsal scales rose in the Barabel equivalent of a blush. “This one said nothing. He thought it.”
“They can’t eavesdrop on thoughts,” Jaina said. “Someone else must have slipped.”
She glanced around the group, waiting. The others continued to search their memories, but no one recalled talking about food.
Finally, Zekk said, “I’m just happy it’s thakitillo instead of some skalrat or something.” Seated on a bench next to Jaina, he wore his black hair as long and ragged as he had in his youth, but that was all that remained the same. A late growth spurt had turned him into something of a human giant, standing two meters tall, with shoulders as broad as Lowbacca’s. “I thought Barabels liked to catch their own food.”
“When we can, but this one was thinking of our last meal aboard Lady Luck, and he alwayz tastes thakitillo when he rememberz Bela and Krasov and . . .” Tesar trailed off and glanced briefly in Jaina’s direction, quietly acknowledging the bond of grief th
ey had come to share through the Myrkr mission. “. . . the otherz.”
Even that gentle reminder of her brother’s death—even seven years later—brought a pained hollow to Jaina’s chest. Usually, her duties as a Jedi Knight kept her too busy to dwell on such things, but there were still moments like these, when the terrible memory came crashing down on her like a Nkllonian firestorm.
“So maybe the Taat are eavesdropping on our thoughts,” Tahiti said, bringing Jaina’s attention back to the present. “If we’re sure no one said anything, that has to be it.”
Lowbacca let out a long Wookiee moan.
“I suppose we will have to avoid thinking about food,” Jaina agreed. “We’re Jedi. We can’t keep eating like Hurts while the Taat larvae starve.”
“It certainly takes the fun out of it,” Alema Rar agreed. The Twi’lek slipped a spoonful of thakitillo into her mouth, then bit into a curd and curled the tips of the long lekku hanging down her back. “Well, most of the fun.”
Zekk ate a spoonful, then asked, “Does it bother anyone that they’re listening to our thoughts?”
“It should,”Jaina replied. “We should feel a little uneasy and violated, shouldn’t we?”
Alema shrugged. “Should is for narrow minds. It makes me feel welcome.”
Jaina considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Same here—and valued. Zekk? You brought it up.”
“Just asking,” he said. “Doesn’t bother me, either.”
“I feel the same,” Tekli agreed. The furry little Chadra-Fan twitched her thick-ended snout. “Yet we avoid the battle-meld now because we dislike sharing feelings among ourselves.”
“That’s different,” Tahiri said. “We geton each other’s nerves.”
“To put it mildly,” Jaina said. “I’ll never forget how that blood hunger came over me the first time Tesar saw a rallop.”
“Or how twisted inside this one felt when Alema wanted to nest with that Rodian rope-wrestler.” Tesar fluttered his scales, then added, “It was a week before he could hunt again.”
Alema smiled at the memory, then said, “Nesting wasn’t what I had in mind.”
Lowbacca banged his bowl down on the bench next to him, groaning in distaste and weary resignation. After the war, Jaina and the other strike team members had begun to notice unexplained mood swings whenever they were together. It had taken Cilghal only a few days to diagnose the problem as a delayed reaction to the Jedi battle-meld. Their prolonged use of it on the Myrkr mission had weakened the boundaries among their minds, with the result that now their emotions tended to fill the Force and blur together whenever they were close to each other.