“Those of you who have received these blue sashes are being honored as Chosen Ones. Your piety and devotion to the One and the All have caused us to select you for a singular honor. Tomorrow night will be your last devotion here at this Altar. At dawn on the following morning, you will be taken by spaceship to meet with our missionaries, and each of you will be selected by one of our missionaries to accompany him out to spread the word of the One and the All.”
Muuurgh heard excited, greedy murmurings from the crowd, and knew the true pilgrims were ecstatic over the implication that they would be able to receive Exultations without sharing it with hundreds of other pilgrims.
Stupid … was the Togorian’s first thought. They are no better than bist or etelo, worthy only of being hunted and eaten. Those spaceships will take them only to the mines of Kessel or the pleasure-houses of the Imperial soldiers. They will receive no more Exultations, they will live in degradation and misery, and most of them will die within a year …
His second thought raised the fur along his neck and spine. Only a day and a half until they ship her out of here! Since the Imperial soldiers want only humanoids in their pleasure-houses, that must mean that Mrrov is destined for the mines on Kessel. They figure that since she is Togorian, and strong, she will last a long time in the mines …
Muuurgh slammed a hand against a tree bole. Curse them, I have little time! The Ylesian overlords will undoubtedly call upon Vykk or the Sullustan to ferry these pilgrims to the space station to await the Kessel transport that is coming. I must be back at Colony One to help Vykk, so we can all escape together!
Muuurgh leaped to his feet and loped off through the jungle, feeling fear drive the fatigue from his body. He turned his face southeast, heading back for Colony One. There was no time to lose … Mrrov’s very life hung in the balance.
The Togorian ran, leaping over logs and streams, ducking through low-lying bushes. His breath came easily, but he knew that would not last long. He was already travel-weary—but that could not be allowed to matter.
Like a black shadow in the blacker night, the Togorian ran …
Bria had just finished devotions and was heading for the path leading back to her dorm when Ganar Tos fell into step beside her. She stiffened, keeping her head down, and refused to look up. I wish Vykk were back! He’s been gone three days, now … Ganar Tos wouldn’t be following me around like this if Vykk were here …
The elderly Zisian reached out to grasp her arm, but Bria yanked it away. The majordomo smiled as he stepped forward, barring her path. “The Exalted One, Teroenza, wishes to speak with you, Pilgrim 921,” he said.
Oh, no! she thought, feeling her heart seem to stop, then slam in her chest so hard she was afraid Ganar Tos would actually hear it. Teroenza has figured out that I was the one who telepathically probed his mind!
“Wh-what does he want?” she managed to say, through stiff lips, wondering if she should just try to make a run for it. Perhaps she could hide out in the jungle for a day or so until Vykk returned …
“He has something to discuss with you,” Tos said, smiling at her. Bria cringed from that smile, but she decided there was no point in running. The guards would only track her down and kill her …
So she turned and headed back toward the Altar of Promises.
When she reached Teroenza, the High Priest peered down at her as she made the proper obeisance. Bria’s heart pounded, and she was so frightened she felt light-headed, dizzy.
“Pilgrim 921,” Teroenza addressed her in his booming voice, “you have served us faithfully, and I am pleased with you. I am also pleased with my loyal servant, Ganar Tos. I wish to reward both of you.”
Bria glanced sideways at the Zisian, whose orange eyes were practically glowing with happiness. Oh, no. I have a bad feeling about this …
Teroenza indicated the majordomo. “Ganar Tos has asked me for your hand in marriage, and I am pleased to grant his request. Stand before me, and I will pronounce the words to make you his wife.”
Bria gasped and wondered if she should let herself faint. She felt as though she might be able to do it—black spots swam before her eyes, and her ears rang. Then she felt a wash of pleasure engulf her, such exquisite pleasure that she almost passed out from that. The pleasure was so intense, so warm, so loving, that she might almost have agreed to anything, just to have it continue.
But just as she was about to nod like a pliant zombie, Vykk’s face swam before her eyes. Bria’s spine stiffened, and her chin came up. She didn’t dare faint—if she did, she’d likely wake up married to Ganar Tos and being carried back to their nuptial bed. The thought made her gag, and the priest’s pleasure-vibes lost their power over her. Bria experienced a sudden, vivid image of herself sharing a bed with Ganar Tos, and for an awful second she was afraid she might be sick.
Control yourself! she commanded. Think!
“But, Exalted One,” she murmured timidly, forcing herself to keep her eyes modestly downcast, “I have taken vows of chastity. I cannot marry anyone.”
“Your piety does you credit, Pilgrim,” Teroenza boomed. “And yet, the One and All bless fruitful unions, just as much as they bless the celibate state. I am granting you a special dispensation so that you may marry Ganar Tos and raise your children to be faithful to the One and the All.”
Clever old monster, Bria thought, hating Teroenza as she’d never hated anyone before in her life. There’s no way around his argument without my committing blasphemy.
She took a long, deep breath, to give herself time to think. “Very well, Exalted One,” she said meekly. “If you say this is the will of the One and the All, I must bow to it. I will be a good wife to Ganar Tos.” Gritting her teeth inwardly, she forced herself to lay her hand on his warty green arm.
“Good, Pilgrim,” Teroenza said, raising his arms to begin the ceremony.
“But, Exalted One,” Bria raised her voice slightly, “I must follow the customs of my own people before I can consider myself legally married.” Before the priest could refuse her, she hurried on, “They are simple, and easily fulfilled, Exalted One. I ask for but a day to purify myself and meditate upon the sacred state of marriage. Also, on Corellia, it is traditional for a woman to wear a green gown to her wedding. I can easily ask the tailor droid to prepare one for me by tomorrow evening.”
Bria held her breath as Teroenza hesitated. Finally, the High Priest must have decided that she wasn’t asking for that much. “Very well, Pilgrim 921,” he boomed. Ganar Tos’s face fell. “Tomorrow evening, before the entire assembly, you and Ganar Tos shall be joined. May the blessing of the One and the All be upon you.”
Teroenza sketched a quick sign in the air, and then turned and lumbered away.
Ganar Tos headed purposefully for Bria. “I will walk you back to your dorm,” he said.
“Very well,” she agreed, but she pulled away when he tried to put an arm around her. “The groom must not touch the bride during the last day before the ceremony,” she cooed, lying through her teeth. “Another Corellian tradition. Surely you can wait one short day, my groom-to-be?”
He nodded shortly. “Very well, wife-to-be. I swear to you, I will be a good husband. It is my fondest wish that we will be blessed with many children.”
“That is my fondest wish, too,” Bria said sweetly. Within the voluminous sleeves of her robes, she crossed all the fingers of both hands.
Please, Vykk, she thought frantically, hurry back! Please!
Han and Nebl made good time on their return trip, and Han guided the Ylesian Dream down through the clouds on the nightside. They saw several spectacular storm cells lit up from within by lightning, but when they landed at Colony One an hour or so past midnight in the short Ylesian night, it was not, for a miracle, raining. Jalus Nebl turned to Han and commented, “Nice landing. I can’t say I’ve ever done better.”
Han smiled at the praise and was still grinning happily as they came down the ramp and onto the landing field. Both he and the Sullust
an had to hastily don their infrared goggles—the night was dead-black, and not a single star was visible.
“Well, I’m off to get a few hours of sleep, lad,” the Sullustan said as he turned to head for the infirmary, where he was still under treatment, though he was no longer having to breathe filtered air. “Good night.”
“Night, Nebl,” Han answered, and he turned, yawning, toward the path that led to the Administration Center. My bunk’s gonna feel awful good, he thought. Think I’ll sleep in and—
Without warning, something large grabbed him from behind, and a furred paw-hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his yell of surprise. Han gasped as he was lifted clean off the path and carried a few steps into the jungle. Then a familiar voice breathed into his ear, “Muuurgh is sorry to have to do that, but Vykk was going to yell. We must be quiet.”
The Togorian set the Corellian on his feet again, and Han took a deep breath, preparatory to giving the giant alien a good scolding about not scaring people on dark nights. Muuurgh shook his furry head, and something about his expression, as seen through the infrared goggles, stopped Han in midword. Instead he asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”
“I found Mrrov,” Muuurgh said. “Pilot will be roused at dawn to fly to Colony Two and take her and other shipload of pilgrims to space station to meet an incoming ship. Ship coming from Kessel, must be—so no time to lose. Must escape. Now. Or Mrrov will be gone.”
Han shook his head. He was tired—he’d been sleeping in short shifts for the past four nights, and it was catching up with him. “Escape? Tonight?”
“Yesssss!” Muuurgh’s anxiety was catching. Han could feel adrenaline beginning to course through his body. “Must escape! Tell Muuurgh what to do! Almost two hours before dawn. By sunrise Mrrov will be waiting with others at Altar place, and Vykk and Muuurgh must be ready with ship!”
“Okay, okay, pal. Calm down.” Han tried to think what had to be done first. “You’ve caught me by surprise here, and I need a second to unscramble my brain. First things first. We’ll need some blasters. Five or six of ’em. You used to live in the guards’ barracks. Think you can sneak in and get ’em?”
Muuurgh nodded. “Yessss … I will get five or six blasters.”
“If I were you, I’d swipe ’em from the Gamorreans. They’re dumb as a box of rocks, and they sleep like logs.”
Muuurgh’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “Yessss …”
“Okay, then. Meet me in front of the Administration Center in half an hour.”
With a final nod, Muuurgh melted into the underbrush.
Han headed for the Administration Center. First item on his agenda was to knock out the Colony’s comm units. He didn’t want anyone summoning reinforcements from the other colonies, or warning them that there was trouble afoot.
When the Corellian reached the comm center, he dug in his pocket for the scrap of flimsy that Bria had given him containing all of the security codes she’d gained from her foray into Teroenza’s mind. There was the code for Teroenza’s personal yacht, Talisman, the ship Han planned to use for their getaway. There was the code for Teroenza’s private living quarters, and the code for the collection room. And there was also the code for the operations center that contained the Colony’s generators, the base security viewscreens, the droid repair shop, the weapons lockers, and the comm unit.
Han tiptoed through the quiet hallways, wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of Muuurgh on his errand, but he saw not a flicker of motion. By now he knew enough about the security layout of Colony One to automatically avoid the bored night guards—who were, most likely, from what he’d seen on his previous forays, asleep at their posts.
It seemed an eternity before he reached the operations center, but finally he was there, entering Bria’s code. With a soft electronic hum, the door swung open. “That’s my girl,” Han muttered as he crept inside.
There was a guard stationed there, as Han had known there would be. A Twi’lek, asleep in the chair, feet propped up on the comm-unit console, head-tails dangling behind him like two ropes of pallid flesh. Resounding snores vibrated through the still air.
Han drew his blaster, changed the setting to STUN, and squeezed the trigger. A blue, circular burst erupted, enveloping the guard. The Twi’lek jerked once, then collapsed bonelessly into the chair, looking exactly the same—except the snores had stopped. “That’s a definite plus,” Han muttered, holstering his gun.
Stepping over to the comm unit, he pulled out the small multitool most pilots automatically carried in their pockets, and set to work loosening the casing. He intended to disable the comm unit, then replace the casing, so whoever tried to use it wouldn’t realize for a while that it had been sabotaged.
Moments later he lifted the outer shell off and put it on the floor. His eyes widened at the myriads of wires, circuits, transponders, cables, and row after row of identical unlabeled compartments. Han groaned aloud. “How’m I supposed to know which of these carries the line to the power generators?”
Selecting a wire at random, he cut it with the multitool’s small laser torch. The power indicator remained ON. Han cut another wire. Then another. With growing frustration, he grabbed a handful of the circuits and yanked them loose.
Still no visible result.
Swearing under his breath, he ripped and tore and lasered ruthlessly, until he was breathing hard with the effort—and the power was still on!
Over five minutes had passed.
“Stupid board …” Han snarled and, drawing his blaster, thumbed it up to full intensity and discharged it right into the middle of the stubborn console’s innards. Flames shot up, the smell of singed insulation tickled his nostrils, sparks erupted—
—and the power indicator went out.
“That’s better,” Han muttered grimly. For good measure, he stunned the Twi’lek again, then he turned and left.
Once outside the Administration Center, he pulled on his goggles and headed down the jungle path at a trot. His strides came faster and faster, until he was nearly running full-out, and only a headlong fall into a mud puddle slowed him down. Dripping and cursing, he climbed back to his feet and headed off again.
The other buildings were ahead of him, now, including Bria’s dorm. Han had checked out the dorms long ago and determined that unlike the Administration Center and the spice factories, they were not guarded at night. After all, the t’landa Til didn’t care whether anyone harmed their slaves—slaves were easily replaceable.
Bria’s little bunk was on the second floor. A dim night-light glowed in the stair landing. Han tiptoed up the stairs, blaster set on STUN at the ready, but he met no one. The pilgrims were so euphoric after the Exultation each night that they slept like the dead.
Han wasn’t sure exactly which bunk Bria occupied. Peering through his goggles, he padded quietly down the central aisle, glancing at the sleeping faces in the various types of sleeping couches, pallets, and bunks favored by various species.
A board creaked beneath his foot, and Han paused, holding his breath. A figure sat up in a human-style bunk, clad in a sleeveless white nightshirt. “Vykk?” she whispered.
Han nodded and beckoned urgently. “Fast!” he hissed.
To his surprise, she was already wearing her pants. Grabbing her overtunic and her sandals, she tiptoed toward him, automatically avoiding the squeaky floorboard.
Together, in silence, they made a cautious way down the stairs, through the hall, and out into the blackness of the night. Bria pulled on her goggles.
“C’mon,” Han said, catching her hand before she had time to say a word. “We’ve gotta hurry!”
He broke into a run, and she pounded gamely alongside him. Soon, though, her strides shortened, and he could tell that she was fighting a stitch in her side. Slowing to a rapid walk, he towed her along the jungle path. She was breathing too hard to speak, but Han, who was in better shape, caught his breath quickly.
“Tonight’s the night,” he told her. “I need yo
u and Muuurgh to start in on Teroenza’s collection, while I get the guards off our backs. Think you can do it?”
She nodded breathlessly. “Ganar Tos …” she gasped.
“Forget him,” Han said curtly. “You’ll never see him again, with any luck.”
“But he … and Teroenza …” She yielded to his urgent tug and began jogging again. “Going to make … me … marry … him …”
Han’s eyes widened. “Ganar Tos wanted to marry you? Minions of Xendor! Good thing we’re gettin’ outta here!”
Unable to speak again, she just nodded.
By the time they reached the Administration Center, Bria had her second wind. She followed Han as he led the way down the darkened corridors to the door of Teroenza’s collection room. Muuurgh was waiting for them. At his feet lay a pile of blasters. Bria’s eyes widened. “What are those for?”
“Diversion,” Han said. “Okay, now … here’s this bypass code …” Quickly he entered the code, and as before, the door opened. The three of them tiptoed into the huge, dimly lit room. Han reached into Bria’s desk and removed a powerful glowrod and flicked the bright light around the room. “Think we dare turn on the lights?”
She nodded. “It’s well sealed. I checked that last week. No way to see it from Teroenza’s apartment.”
Han switched on the overhead lights, and the room was suddenly fully illuminated.
Since Bria had taken over the maintenance of the collection, she’d rearranged the entire room. The collection cases gleamed, the shelves were far less cluttered, and the colors on the tapestries were vivid, freed from their film of dust. The room’s three white central support pillars had been freshly painted.
“All right,” Han whispered. “You and Muuurgh get started and begin picking out the items you selected. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes, okay?”
She nodded. “But what’ll I carry them in?”
“Last week I hid a knapsack behind the backsides of the two sprites on the white jade fountain,” Han said, pointing to the huge artifact. “That’ll get you started. I’ll try to bring something else back with me if I see anything that’ll work.”
Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare Page 20