The next morning Han whistled cheerfully as he showered, and even rubbing the nasty-smelling anti-fungal gray goo over himself couldn’t depress him. He and Bria were getting off this world, and they’d have plenty of credits once they sold the stolen items from Teroenza’s collection. Han would be able to pay for his new ID, food, and lodging while he took the exams to get into the Academy.

And when he got out, he’d be an officer, a respected man, and Bria would be waiting for him …

Rubbing his wet hair with a towel, he headed for his clothes, which were lying across the foot of his bunk.

He had no warning, none at all. One moment he was walking, the next something had grabbed him and flung him to the floor so hard it knocked the wind out of him. Han gasped like a beached whaladon and spots danced before his eyes.

But there was something else, there, too … holding him down, something that had one gigantic hand pressing his chest. Instinctively, Han lay still, gasping and finding breath, realizing that hand could crush him like a dilga-nut.

Blackness swam before his eyes—no, the blackness was real. Real and furry, with a white spot in the middle of its chest and bristling white whiskers. Han managed to focus his eyes. “Muuurgh …?” he gasped feebly. “Wha’s goin’ on …?”

Muuurgh snarled into Han’s face, his huge fangs so close that Han could see them gleam with saliva. “Pilot planning to escape, take Bria,” he growled. “Vykk planning to steal from Ylesian masters. Vykk planning to take care of Muuurgh …”

“But—” The hand pressed down, slightly, and Han subsided, eyes bulging.

Muuurgh raised a massive paw-hand and flexed it slightly. Scimitarlike claws extruded. “Now treacherous Pilot will die,” the Togorian snarled.

“No!” Han put up his hands in a gesture of appeal. “Please! Just listen!”

“Muuurgh listened last night. Muuurgh heard plenty,” the Togorian said grimly.

“Hey, pal!” Han babbled, imagining what those claws would do to his exposed throat. “I thought we were friends!”

“Muuurgh liked Pilot. Muuurgh is sorry to have to kill Pilot. But word of honor was given. No choice for Muuurgh.”

The hand started down. Han squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end.

He felt the breeze of the Togorian’s swing graze his cheek, his throat, but nothing touched him. After several eternities, Han opened his eyes again. Muuurgh was staring down at him, plainly torn.

Finally, he grabbed Han by the shoulder and hair, jerked him to his feet, and pushed him in the direction of the Corellian’s clothes. “Get dressed! Muuurgh not want Pilot’s blood on his claws. We go to tell Teroenza what Pilot and girl are planning. Priest will tell other guards to kill traitors.”

Han hastened over to the bunk, and began dragging on his clothes. At least he wouldn’t die naked and wet. “Listen, Muuurgh,” he said, “you’ve gotta listen to me. Please! What can it hurt?”

“Pilot lies. Muuurgh knows he lies. Muuurgh—I will not listen.”

That’s a good sign that he’s regaining his cool, Han thought. The grammar I taught him is coming back.

Sealing the front of his coverall, Han sat down on the edge of the bunk to pull on his boots. “Your people have a code of honor, right?” he said, thinking as fast as he’d ever thought in his life.

“Yes.”

“If you give your word of honor to someone who’s employing you, you’ve got to keep it, right?”

“Yes. Pilot can move faster than that. Put on those boots.”

Han slowly inserted his right foot, toes pointed down, and began to pull the boot on. “Well, pal, suppose you gave your word of honor to someone and found that everything he told you was a lie on his part of the contract. What does that do to your agreement? Do you have to keep your word to someone who’s lied to you and made a fool out of you?”

Muuurgh eyed Han suspiciously, but said nothing.

“C’mon, pal, what’s your code of honor say about making agreements with liars, eh?”

Muuurgh shook his massive head, then his ears flattened in anger. “If a Togorian makes a word of honor with a liar, contract is void. There is no honor to be had dealing with a liar.”

“All right,” Han said with a surge of satisfaction. He picked up his left boot. “Listen to me, pal. I think Mrrov is here, on Ylesia. I think Teroenza lied to you.”

Muuurgh stared at Han, then his blue eyes narrowed. “You would lie to stay alive, Vykk.”

“Yeah, I would, pal,” Han said honestly. “But I swear to you I ain’t lying about this.”

“Swear? What is this ‘swear’?”

“It’s … like a word of honor, sort of,” said. “My people swear by the most important thing in the world to them. It’s like … sacred, I guess you’d say.”

“So what does Vykk swear by?”

Han thought for a moment. “I swear,” he said, slowly and distinctly, “by Bria’s life. You know I care for her … a lot. Don’t you?”

Muuurgh considered for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay, then, I swear to you, on Bria’s life, that last night she told me she saw a Togorian here, six months or more ago. That would tie in with the time you were searching for Mrrov, wouldn’t it?”

Silently the Togorian nodded again.

“She saw a Togorian, Muuurgh. Ask her yourself. Teroenza and his goons lied to you when they said she never came here. She’s probably still here, on Ylesia. Probably not here at Colony One, ’cause that’s too risky. But there’s a good chance she’s at Colony Two … or maybe even Three. But Colony Two has been there longer, they’ve got a lot more pilgrims there than at Colony Three. So I’m betting she’s at Colony Two. It’s worth checking out, isn’t it?”

“What did she look like?” Muuurgh asked slowly.

For a moment Han was tempted to lie, say he didn’t know, because what if he was wrong about the Togorian being Mrrov, and Muuurgh got mad and killed him right here and now? He took a deep breath. “Bria said she was white and some other color. Striped. She thought they might be orange stripes, but she said it was almost dark, so she’s not sure.”

I sure hope Mrrov wasn’t solid-colored or spotted!

Muuurgh’s ears flattened, and he hissed like a leaky valve, teeth bared ferociously. Han desperately looked around for something to brain the Togorian with, but there wasn’t a thing in reach. Silently he resigned himself to being ripped in two.

Then Muuurgh’s furious hiss mutated into a pain-filled yowl of anguish. The big alien sank to the floor, clutching his head and yowling in an ululating keen. “You have described her!” he growled, finally. “By all the gods of my fathers, can she have been here all these days, while I believed those liars? I will go now to tear their throats out and eat their hearts!”

“Whew,” Han muttered softly. I’m glad that worked!

Muuurgh leaped to his feet, obviously ready to make good on his threat.

“Wait!” Han leaped up and grabbed one huge arm, hung on as he was dragged across the floor, through the living room, almost to the door. He dug his heels in and refused to let go. “Muuurgh, if you want her back, stop!”

Muuurgh slowed, then stopped. “Good,” Han said, panting. “Now let’s talk about this like rational sentients, okay? Sit down.”

Muuurgh sank down onto his pallet. Han switched on some music, then pulled his beat-up chair so close to the Togorian that they were nearly touching. “Talk low,” he whispered, and Muuurgh nodded.

“I’ve got a plan,” Han said. “I think I know how to get her, if she’s still here on Ylesia.” I just hope they haven’t shipped her off to the spice mines, he thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. Muuurgh knew what happened to the slaves as well as he did, by now.

“Okay, Vykk,” Muuurgh said, equally softly, “tell me the plan.”

Han thought a moment. “I’m going to need your help for some of this. I’ve got some preparations to make, and I’ll try to get everything possible set up before I leave.”

“Leave? Vykk is leaving?”

“Yes, but I’m not talking about our final escape. In a couple of days I’ve got to deliver a message and a gift from Zavval to a Hutt named Jiliac on Nal Hutta. I’m supposed to stay there and wait for a reply. I’ve never been to Nal Hutta, and I don’t know the drill there, but Jalus Nebl has.”

Muuurgh nodded to show he was listening, and nervously began to groom his white whiskers.

“So, okay. The Dream is really too small for three. I’m gonna point that out to Teroenza and tell him Nebl wants to get back into flying again as my copilot. I’m pretty sure he’ll agree to let me and Nebl fly this mission together. I’m gonna suggest that you stay here, ’cause there won’t be room for you.”

Han got up and began pacing back and forth as he thought. “The priests know you like to hunt, right? So when I get permission to take Nebl with me, you should request to spend a couple of days hunting. You can move fast over rough ground, right?”

“Very fast,” agreed the Togorian. “Fast enough to track and kill prey.”

“Do you think you could make it on foot to Colony Two?”

“Yes.” Muuurgh sounded positive.

“Well, it’s our best shot. If Mrrov is still here on Ylesia, there’s a better than fifty-fifty chance that she’s at Colony Two. You should go there and scout it out, find out if she’s there.”

“And rescue her!” Muuurgh leaped to his feet.

“No!” Han snapped. “Sit down. That would be the worst thing to do. They’d start a planet-wide search for the two of you. They’d use sensors tuned to Togorian readings to pinpoint you. Then you’d be captured and probably killed. Or sent to the mines of Kessel, which amounts to the same thing.”

“You want Muuurgh to see Mrrov, and not let her see him?”

“Exactly. Just find her, scout out where she sleeps, eats, stuff like that. Then, when we make our getaway, you and me will hop over to Colony Two and break her outta there. I’ve been doing some late-night scouting around this place, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Muuurgh noticed,” the Togorian said dryly. “Everywhere Vykk went, Muuurgh was behind him, watching. Why do you think I knew to listen when you walked Bria back to her dorm?”

“Well, anyway, I’ve figured out how to create a diversion that’ll keep the guards busy while we get the best stuff out of the collection. And I know where the communications center is. I’ll make sure that communications between the colonies are down by the time we get outta here. We’ll hop over to Colony Two, and before they know what’s happening, we’ll grab Mrrov and be hightailing it off this planet. Then I’ll take you both back to Togoria, okay?”

Muuurgh looked at Han, his blue eyes narrowing, whiskers twitching with emotion. “You would do this for Muuurgh and Mrrov?”

“Yes. I swear it. If you help me and Bria break into and steal Teroenza’s stuff, I swear to you we won’t leave without Mrrov.”

The big Togorian thought about that for a long time, then his eyes met Han’s. “I will do it,” he said. “Word of honor.”

Han nodded. “It’s a deal, pal.”

   That same evening, Han went over to Teroenza’s treasure room to find Bria. He was wondering if she’d be attending devotions now that she knew they were faked. Standing outside, he knocked on the heavy, metal-sheathed door. “It’s me,” he called in response to her voice from inside.

The door opened, and Bria stepped out. Han’s eyes widened. “Hey! You look great!”

For the first time since he’d known her, she’d doffed her bulky tan robes and concealing cap. Instead, she was wearing a simple pale blue tunic and trousers. Although modest in style, they revealed a figure that was slender but definitely female.

“Exalted Teroenza told me I could dispense with my pilgrim robes while I was working on the collection,” she told him. When she saw the warmth in his eyes, she blushed a little, but smiled. “He was afraid that I’d catch my robes on some valuable artifact and knock it off a shelf.”

“Well, I approve,” Han said. “Want to get a cup of tea?”

“Sure.”

When they were seated in the mess hall, with cups of stim-tea before them, Bria smiled shyly at Han. “So … you really like the way I look?”

“You bet,” he said. “You’re the prettiest girl on this planet, no kidding.”

She smiled, then the smile faded, and she looked troubled. “You’re apparently not the only one who thinks so, Vykk …”

“What do you mean?”

“I had the strangest exchange with Ganar Tos, Teroenza’s majordomo, this morning. He’d apparently never seen beyond the pilgrim robes, but when I put these clothes on, he really noticed me. He followed me around for about an hour while I was trying to get some rearranging done, making conversation—or trying to. Those orangy-red eyes of his gave me chills. He’s old, but it’s obvious he still has … um … plenty of life in him, if you get my meaning. Male life.”

Han sat back. “You mean, that old creep was coming on to you?”

She shivered. “I’m afraid so. He wanted to know how old I was, whether I was ever married, whether I had any children. He asked me why I’d wound up coming to Ylesia to be a pilgrim. Very personal questions! He had a lot of nerve.”

Han leaned forward. “So why did you come here? Or do you consider that too personal to tell me, too?”

She smiled wanly at him. “Of course not, Vykk. Why’d I come here? It seems so long ago, it’s hard to even remember. I was going through a bad time. I’d just finished kid’s school, and was kind of scared at the idea of going to the university. I’d never been on my own before.

“My mother always kept a tight rein and made me feel as though I could never do anything right. Studying hard and behaving myself weren’t enough for her.” She smiled, but it was not a nice smile. “My father encouraged me to have a career, but all Mother could think about was my making a ‘brilliant match.’ She thought her dreams had come true when I started seeing Dael.”

Han felt a stab of jealousy, but reminded himself that there had been other girls in his past. More than a few, matter of fact …

“We were on the verge of getting engaged when I caught him sneaking around with another girl. So I told him it was over. My mother was furious with me for breaking up with Dael. He came from one of the richest families on Corellia, and she’d already begun planning the wedding.” She sighed. “She ordered me to go to him and apologize, get him to take me back. For the first time in my life, I told her ‘no.’ ”

“She sounds like a very … determined … woman,” Han said cautiously.

“Determined isn’t the word. Mother had pushed me at Dael ever since we were in school together, and I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I didn’t like him that much. It’s funny”—her blue-green eyes grew misty—“I didn’t much want Dael, but when I knew he’d been sneaking around with someone else, I felt betrayed and heartbroken. People are strange, aren’t they?”

Han nodded. “Go on,” he said encouragingly.

“Well, just about that time, I heard about a revival that was being held by a Ylesian missionary. I was feeling pretty down on myself, because I just knew I couldn’t do anything right. Uprooted, you know? Cut off from everyone.

“So I went to the revival. The Ylesian priest finished his service with just a few seconds of Exultation—and it made me feel so good. Like I belonged with those people. So I sold my jewelry, ran away, and caught the next ship for Ylesia.”

She smiled wistfully. “So that’s my story. And to return to the subject at hand, what do you think I should do to keep poor old Ganar Tos at arm’s length?”

“Well, if he bugs you too much, mention it to Teroenza. I’m sure he doesn’t want anything to interfere with your work, and if Ganar Tos is doing that, then he’ll put a stop to it.”

“Okay,” she said, cheering up. “That’s a good idea.”

“Are you going to devotions?” Han asked, giving her a significant glance.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Won’t they notice when you don’t go?”

“I can always say I had a headache or was working late. Most of the pilgrims can’t wait to go, so they don’t keep tabs on who’s there.”

“That’s true. How about a walk, then?”

“Sure.”

When they were outside, Han walked them clear to the Flowered Plains before he broached the subject on his mind. Quickly he summarized that morning’s interaction with Muuurgh. Bria was alarmed to realize that the Togorian had been listening to them last night, and said so.

“Yeah, me, too,” Han replied. “That big guy can be real quiet when he wants to be. No wonder he says he’s the best hunter on this planet. He’s apparently been following me the whole time I was scouting out the lay of this place, and figuring out the best way to get us out of here.”

“We’d better be careful where we are when we’re discussing escape plans,” she said, glancing nervously around.

“Why do you think I walked us clear out here before I even brought up the subject? The trees have ears around here. We’ve gotta be real careful. Last night it was only Muuurgh, so we’re okay, but it coulda been one of the skin-changers they’ve got as guards down in the glitterstim factory.”

She shivered at the thought. “So what did you have to tell me?”

“Muuurgh’s going to ask to go on a hunting trip while Jalus Nebl and I make the run to Nal Hutta. We’ve got it all set up. Teroenza approved me taking Nebl with me today. Nal Hutta’s two systems away, and it’ll take us four days, maybe five. I promised Muuurgh he’d have that long to find out if Mrrov is still here, and that, if she is, we’ll take her with us.”

“That would be good,” Bria said. “I hated the idea of leaving Muuurgh behind. If Teroenza got angry enough, he’d probably kill him for letting us escape, whether Muuurgh was responsible or not.”

“Right.” Han sighed. “I just wish I could figure out a way to break into Teroenza’s living quarters and search the place until I found where he keeps those ship access codes and the security lock codes for the collection. So far, I’m stumped. I’ve figured out a way to keep the guards busy, but if I can’t get those codes, I may have to change my plans. I might have to set the Welcome Center on fire or something.”

“Security codes?” Bria frowned and closed her eyes. “Security codes …” She drew a deep breath, then began reciting a string of numbers, symbols, and letters.

“That sounds like it!” Han grabbed her arm in excitement. “How’d you get them?”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “They were in Teroenza’s mind. I’m afraid they’re burned into mine, along with everything else. I wish I could forget them—and all that other stuff—but I can’t.”

He grabbed her shoulders and gave them an ecstatic little shake. “Well, don’t wish that till we’re off this mudhole. Bria, honey, this is great! You’ve saved me a lotta trouble!”

She smiled at him shakily. “I paid an awful price for it, but if it helps us … I guess it was worth it.”

“It will be,” Han promised. “Trust me. I swear it will be.”

She nodded.

“So all we have to do is avoid arousing suspicion until we’re ready to make the break. That’s gonna be easy for me—Nebl and I will be off-world. Think you can manage to just do business as usual here till we get back?”

“I think so,” she said. “But … hurry back!”

“I will, sweetheart,” he said.

Bria gave Han a pleading look. “After we’re free, could we go to Corellia, Vykk? I want to see my folks again. I want to let them know I’m all right.”

Han gave her a reassuring smile. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got some business to take care of on Corellia, so that’ll be one of our first stops, okay?”

She gave him a radiant answering smile. “Okay.”

   When Vykk left her at the door to her dorm, Bria told herself that she’d just go upstairs and take a nap until it was time to go to dinner. If anyone asked, she’d plead a headache as an excuse for missing devotions.

But when she reached her room, she picked up her pilgrim’s robe and cap and stood holding them. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll start tomorrow. After all, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Nobody could expect me to miss the Exultation just like that. I need a day to work myself up to it …

And before she knew what she was doing, Bria found herself back in her robes and cap, hurrying down the Path of Immortality, toward the Altar of Promises …

   Two days later a jittery Han and a placid Jalus Nebl stood waiting outside Jiliac the Hutt’s audience room in his Winter Palace. A small holo-recording device rested at Han’s feet; it was designed to project a visual and audio simulacrum of the sender. Nebl was steadying a large, elaborate box on an anti-grav lifter. The box contained the gift Zavval the Hutt had sent to his business associate, and sometime rival, Jiliac.

“Wonder how much longer we’ll have to wait?” Han muttered nervously, pacing a bit. “It’s been almost an hour.”

“For an audience with a clan leader, this is nothing,” Jalus Nebl said. “Once I waited two days to even reach the antechamber. And don’t forget, we’ve got to wait for a reply. Once I waited a week.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Han grumbled. “I don’t want to hear about everything that can go wrong. I’m still skeptical that we’re gonna walk out of this place alive. Hutts are notoriously bad-tempered, y’know.”

“I already told you, we’re perfectly safe,” the Sullustan replied.

“Forgive me if I’m being dense, by why can you be so sure of that?” Han snapped.

“Long ago, in the early days of their coming to Nal Hutta, Hutts lost so many messengers that communications between the clans completely broke down, and everyone lost profit because of it,” Nebl explained. “So all the clans made a sworn pact—a messenger from one Hutt to another is sacrosanct. While we’re delivering Zavval’s message, and taking back his reply, we cannot be touched or interfered with in any way.”

“Yeah, I sure hope you’re right,” Han mumbled. He looked over at the big box. “I thought Zavval was mad at Jiliac,” he whispered. “So how come he’s sending him a gift?”

Nebl shook his head. “Gifts are traditional. To gain a Hutt’s attention, you must either present him with a gift or threaten him or her. Sometimes Hutts do both at the same time.”

Han grimaced. “Weird. You sure you don’t have any idea what’s in there? That box is big enough to hold most anything. Even a body, if you folded it up. I’d feel better if I knew.”

“The box is sealed,” Nebl pointed out. “If we open it, His Excellency Jiliac will know. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Yeah … I know.” Han grimaced and, to distract himself from his worries, looked around.

The antechamber was high-ceilinged, with skylights. It was built of light-colored stone, and the pale walls were hung with tapestries woven (it was said) by Jiliac’s enemies while they languished in his dungeons, waiting for the mercy of execution. One depicted the original Hutt homeworld, the desolate and barren planet Varl, and another the great cataclysm that destroyed it long, long ago. Still another showed the great Hutt diaspora to Nal Hutta in the Y’Toub system. Nal Hutta, Han knew, meant “glorious jewel” in Huttese.

The last tapestry was a full-sized portrait of Jiliac himself, reclining in state upon his lavishly appointed but tasteful dais.

Han hadn’t seen much of Nal Hutta, since he and Nebl had been whisked into a droid-chauffeured landspeeder and taken south, to Jiliac’s remote Winter Palace. The Hutt Lord’s retreat was located on a small island near the equator. Jalus Nebl had informed Han that he was lucky, that this island was, by comparison with the rest of Nal Hutta, a virtual “garden spot” on this dank and noisome world.

This island reminded him of Ylesia—hot, humid, and full of giant trees choked with huge vines.

Han’s attention jerked back to the here and now when he realized that Dorzo, Jiliac’s Rodian majordomo, was beckoning to them. “His Supreme Excellency Jiliac, clan leader and protector of the righteous, will see you now.”

Hastily Han picked up his recorder, and then he and Nebl walked into the audience chamber.

It was huge. Han paced up the central aisle toward the dais, feeling the luxurious pile of an expensive carpet beneath his boots. The chamber was filled with fawning sycophants of all races, tastefully garbed dancing girls and boys, and an orchestra off in one corner. A massive buffet table heaped with food from a dozen worlds made his nostrils twitch as Han suddenly recalled that he’d forgotten to eat lunch.

Jiliac reclined at his ease on an audience dais, smoking something that Han couldn’t identify, but which he wanted no part of. Even the faint whiff he got of the expelled smoke made his head swim.

Jalus Nebl nudged Han, and he nervously stepped forward. “Almighty Jiliac,” he said in Huttese, recalling the speech Zavval had rehearsed with him, “we come from our Ylesian master Zavval the Hutt to bring you a message and a gift. First, the gift …” He beckoned to Nebl, and the Sullustan, as agreed, stepped forward.

Jiliac peered down at them, then ordered, in Huttese, “Open it. I wish to see what Zavval deems worthy of me.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” squeaked the Sullustan, who set about slitting all the seals and releasing all the catches.

Han watched in fascination as the Sullustan raised the lid on the box and withdrew two crystalline globes with bronze supports, which he balanced one upon the other, and then placed the entire contraption upon a sturdy, curved bronze stand.

All of the metal was chased with gold and silver designs. There was a small housing on the back of the bottom globe that contained some kind of battery, Han thought. The Corellian stared at the thing in perplexity. He had no idea what the device was.

Jiliac did, however. “A combination hookah and snack-quarium!” he boomed, speaking, of course, in Huttese, which Han by this time understood very well. “And one almost worthy of our greatness! Just what I wanted! How did he know?” He turned his attention back to the two messengers and continued, more formally, “Messengers, Zavval’s gift pleases me. Let us hope his message does, as well. Activate it, human.”

Han bowed low, set the recorder on a low table, and switched it on. Immediately a holo-simulacrum of Zavval appeared, filling the space before Jiliac’s dais. “My dear Jiliac,” Zavval said, stretching out a hand toward Jiliac, as though he could see the other and were really present. “Over the past year, some unfortunate occurrences have plagued our shipping operations out of Ylesia. Ships have disappeared, and one ship was attacked. As one of the heads of our Kajidier, it was my duty to trace down these despicable incursions.”

Jiliac’s pleased expression had faded. Han cast a nervous glance at the Sullustan. I sure hope he’s right about us being safe!

“We have traced these so-called ‘pirates’ to Nar Shaddaa, and recently my operatives have captured and questioned one of the captains of these vessels. This unfortunate individual revealed—before succumbing to a weak heart—that he was recruited and sent upon his villainous missions by you and your great-nephew, Jabba. Your enmity wounds us deeply—and what is more important, cuts into our profit margin. Be warned, Jiliac. Leave our shipments alone. Any more attacks will meet with swift reprisal upon you and your clan. We have assembled a great fleet, which will surely vanquish your paltry forces.”

We have? thought Han wildly. There’s just me and Nebl! Zavval’s bluffing. Or did he recently hire more pilots?

Zavval’s message continued, inexorably, “Accept our gift as a peace offering, or meet with grim consequences—among which your own death will be the least. Jiliac, I appeal to you in the name of Hutt brotherhood to cease hijacking and terrorizing our vessels. We can make a much better profit if we work together, instead of contending with each other.”

By this time, Han and the Sullustan were backing away in terror, because Jiliac was swelling up like a poisoned wound.

“Heed my warning, Jiliac. Cease your—”

“AiiiiiieeeeeeaaaaaaarrrrrrrRRGGGGGGGGGG
HHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

Jiliac’s scream of fury made Han and Nebl leap behind the buffet table. The Hutt Lord’s tail lashed out in a giant sweep to strike the recording device, sending it flying. Zavval’s image vanished.

Jiliac slid forward. Han watched in horrified fascination. It was the first time he’d seen a Hutt Lord move under his own power.

“Messengers!” Jiliac screamed. “Come forth!”

Slowly, reluctantly, Han and Nebl crawled around the edge of the table and got shakily to their feet. “Yes, Almighty Jiliac?” Nebl quavered. Han was incapable of speech.

“I send you back to that worm-ridden parasitical infestation who calls himself Zavval,” Jiliac raged, tail lashing, as he moved back and forth. “Tell him he has maligned me and my kin, Jabba. Tell him this lack-witted attempt to incite me into a precipitous attack has failed utterly. I will bide my time. He is a dead Hutt, but for the moment, by my grace, he may pretend to be among the living. I alone will decide when he is to die—and it will be at my convenience. Do you understand, messengers?”

“Yes, Almighty One!” Han said, having recovered his voice. It was obvious that Jiliac was letting them go, and he wanted nothing more than to get off this world. He bowed, then bowed again. “I’ll tell him exactly what you said!”

“Good! You may go. Take my message to Zavval—immediately!”

Bowing, Han and Nebl backed from the audience room. Once outside, they hastily leaped into their transport and ordered the droid driver to return them to the spaceport immediately.

Han had never been so glad to see the Ylesian Dream waiting for him. He and Jalus Nebl ran across the landing field, scrambled up the ramp, and threw themselves into the control cabin.

Only when they were out in space, and Han was pulling the lever to send them streaking into hyperspace, did enough of his sense of humor return that he was able to grin feebly at the Sullustan. “Well, Nebl,” he said, “that went well, didn’t it?”

The Sullustan rolled his large, wet eyes. “You still don’t understand, Vykk,” he said. “When one is dealing with Hutts, there are wheels within wheels within wheels. It’s entirely possible that Zavval sent that message because we are vulnerable, to keep Jiliac from attacking more openly. We’re just underlings. We only see part of the picture. All you can do is pray to any gods you believe in that you never anger a Hutt. One would be better off dead, and that is no understatement.”

Han nodded. “I believe you. Still, if I were Zavval, I wouldn’t rest too easily at night. He may not have long to live …”

   Muuurgh glided through the jungle in the dimness of the short Ylesian twilight. It had taken him a day and a half to travel the 147 kilometers to Colony Two. Part of his slowness had come from the perilous crossing of the Gachoogai River. He’d been so exhausted by struggling through the rapid current that he’d had to take two hours out of his trip to hunt and then another hour to sleep. He was still tired from his ordeal … but he was finally here.

He listened for the sounds of chanting voices as he skirted the perimeter of the compound. Colony Two followed, as far as he knew, the same schedule as Colony One, so the pilgrims should be at the evening devotions.

His nostrils flared as he tested the wind, constantly sniffing for any Togorian spoor. Several times, Muuurgh got down on his hands and knees and moved forward, sniffing, drinking in the scents left by the pilgrims who had recently passed this way.

Five minutes later he jerked as if he’d been hit with a stun-prod. Mrrov! Mrrov came this way, no more than a day ago! Wandering cautiously around the outskirts of the buildings, he located first the dorm she slept in, then the factory where she worked.

Lastly, he followed the freshest scent trail to a path that he was sure must lead to the Altar of Promises. Apparently Colony Two was laid out on a nearly identical plan to Colony One.

Without checking farther, the Togorian melted back into the jungle and moved as quickly as he could toward the site of the devotions. For a moment he wondered whether Mrrov might scent his trail, but it was unlikely. He’d been thoroughly soaked in that river, and had deliberately avoided the instinct to rub against anything and leave scent markers. He didn’t want Mrrov to try following him back to Colony One, and possibly becoming lost in the jungle when his trail was interrupted by the river.

The Togorian arrived just in time to automatically resist the mental and physical waves of the Exultation. Narrowing his eyes, Muuurgh scanned the writhing forms in front of him—

—and found Mrrov. She was twitching, but not really writhing … and there was something false about the way she moved that allowed him to pick her out easily.

She is faking, Muuurgh thought. I knew Mrrov was too strong-minded to be fooled by these liars for long!

He strained his eyes to make out every line of her beneath her pilgrim’s robe. But all he could see clearly was her head, orange stripes contrasting vividly with the white. He longed to see her lovely yellow eyes, but he was behind her and to her right. She could not see him.

For a second, Muuurgh nearly threw caution and his vow to Vykk to the winds—it was everything he could do not to race into the crowd of pilgrims, grab his mate-to-be, and carry her off into the jungle.

But he had given Vykk his word of honor. Mrrov must not know he was here.

As the pilgrims staggered to their feet, the Exultation over, Muuurgh’s eyes widened as he saw that Mrrov was wearing a blue sash—as were about fifty of the hundred or so pilgrims at the devotion.

That sash! That’s the sash of the Chosen Ones! Oh, no! He could have hissed aloud in his frustration and fear. Muuurgh had been on Ylesia for many months. He’d seen those sashes before.

Sure enough, as the pilgrims began shuffling into the night, the High Priest stepped up to call out to them in his booming voice. “All pilgrims who were issued blue sashes today, please remain behind! Your High Priest has an announcement to make!”

Obediently, the pilgrims with blue sashes stopped walking toward the path and instead shuffled forward. Mrrov looked as though she was thinking of yanking off her sash and making a run for it, but she didn’t. Muuurgh yowled inwardly. Does she know what those sashes mean?

“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!