NINETEEN

In imperious repose on her cushioned and pillowed pallet, Borga Besadii Diori fixed her gaze on Nas Choka, as Leenik escorted the black-haired Yuuzhan Vong supreme commander and his minions into the palace court. Though rarely known to exercise restraint, Borga refrained from elevating her couch, in the interest of getting off to a better start with Choka than she had with Commander Malik Carr on his first visit to Nal Hutta.

Trailing Choka, and similarly attired in attenuating helmet and swishing command cloak, stepped Malik Carr, and behind him the New Republic traitor, Pedric Cuf, sporting pegged trousers, low black boots, and stiff-collared jacket. Advisers and armed guards dispersed to both sides of Choka’s retinue, assuming positions that encouraged confrontation with the members of Borga’s own security contingent.

“I welcome you to Nal Hutta,” Borga said in Yuuzhan Vong while Choka assessed the trappings of the court from the chair to which the Rodian Leenik had shown him. “We are at your disposal.”

Choka smiled in surprise. “Excellent, Borga. I didn’t realize that you were acquainted with our language.”

“A few simple phrases,” Borga said in Basic. “Courtesy of the tutorial supplied by Pedric Cuf.”

Choka glanced at Nom Anor, then his closely set eyes came back to Borga. “I’m told that you have already been exceedingly accommodating.”

Borga smiled pleasantly. “We are renowned for our hospitality—especially of the sort we render to revered guests.”

Choka’s tone of voice changed. “Guests.” Deliberate or not, his faceful of bulges and indentations gave him the look of someone who had gone fifteen hard rounds with a Hapan kickboxer. “An interesting choice of words, Borga. Unless you mean to imply that the Yuuzhan Vong are nothing more than visitors to this galaxy.”

“A visitor who takes well to new surroundings often becomes a resident,” Borga replied, refusing to be flustered. “When you have established yourselves on Coruscant, I would be honored to call you neighbor.”

Choka grinned faintly. “You would do well to call me lord.”

Borga’s large eyes blinked. “Then when the title suits the circumstance, I will do so.”

Choka nodded, apparently satisfied. “I’m not one to mince words, Borga. With respect to your gracious offer to oversee the transport of captives in exchange for information regarding imperiled star systems, I have determined that such services are unwarranted at this stage of our campaign. As a gesture of good faith, however, we will continue, from time to time and as we see fit, to furnish you with some advance notice of our activities.” He paused momentarily. “For example, you may resume delivery of your euphoric spice to the Bothawui system, without fear of inadvertent entanglement.”

Borga licked her lips. “We thank you—and I’m sure the Bothans will do likewise.”

Choka studied her for a moment. “For the spice, you mean.”

“Precisely. For the spice.”

Choka’s expression didn’t change. “I trust, Borga, that you’re not sharing this privileged information with any third parties.”

Borga spread her smallish hands, palms outward. “With whom would I share? Our primary concern is to maintain trade—and, of course, to avoid complicating your business, whatever that may be.”

“That’s comforting to hear,” Choka said. “Be advised that should evidence ever come to light that you have been violating our confidence … Well, I don’t think I need to enumerate the horrors that would befall Hutt space, do I?”

Borga shook her head. “We are also renowned for our vivid imaginations.”

“Splendid.” Choka gestured toward Malik Carr. “My second in command informs me, as well, that you expressed a desire to commence apportioning the galaxy, in anticipation of our complete and utter conquest.”

Borga swallowed audibly. “I may have been premature, Excellency.”

Choka’s invidious grin returned. “Nothing pleases me more than a well-reasoned response. We will lay siege to whichever worlds we require or crave, including this ‘glorious jewel’ of yours—not that we have any such designs—for the moment, that is—although one never knows—save for Warmaster Tsavong Lah, who could decide tomorrow that Nal Hutta needs to be razed. Do we understand each other?”

“As well as can be expected,” Borga replied, “given the limitations of Basic—and, of course, the relative youth of our association—notwithstanding the depths it has already achieved—despite our many differences.”

Choka smiled with sincerity. “Very good. We prize sportive circumlocution above almost anything but valor. Speaking of valor, Borga, have the Hutts had many dealings with this gang of ruffians that calls itself the Jedi Knights?”

Borga adopted a look of distaste. “Some, Excellency. In fact, before you deigned to grace this galaxy with your presence, the Jedi were making things rather irksome for us by interfering with our myriad operations.”

“Yes,” Choka mused, “they have proved troublesome for us, as well. We’ve had a few Jedi in our grip, but they have all managed to slip through our fingers.” He regarded Borga for a long moment. “You would profit by assisting us in separating one from the pack.”

Borga fell silent, wondering if she was being tested, but ultimately deciding that Choka’s offer was genuine. “But, Excellency, you have one in your possession even now,” she said cautiously.

It was Choka’s turn to fall silent. He turned to glance at Malik Carr, then Nom Anor, both of whom returned nescient shrugs.

“Explain yourself, Borga.”

“The vessel aboard which my son Randa is currently a guest,” Borga supplied. “Randa sent word that a Jedi had been discovered among the ship’s complement of captives.”

Once more Choka looked to Malik Carr, who said, “I know nothing of this.”

“To which ship does the Hutt refer?” Choka demanded of his advisers in Yuuzhan Vong.

“The Crèche, Supreme Commander,” a bare-headed Yuuzhan Vong answered. “The yammosk vessel under the command of Chine-kal.”

Choka muttered angrily. “Can we communicate with the ship?”

“Provided that it is not in superluminal transit, Supreme Commander.”

“Then have Chine-kal’s villip prepared and brought to me at once!”

“Excellency, I could easily arrange to put you in contact with my son,” Borga started to say, when Choka whirled on her.

“You dare insult me by suggesting that I consort with one of your ghoulish machines?”

“But I—”

“Keep silent, you mutated slug! You will speak only when spoken to, or I’ll have that obscene tongue ripped from your head!”

Clearly waiting for just such an opportunity, Borga’s guards raised their blasters and stun batons. In rapid response Choka’s soldiers, crouching into combat stances, brought forth their amphistaffs and coufees. Everyone remained silent and unmoving, as if suddenly removed from the flow of ordinary time, waiting for fate to play its hand. Borga and Leenik exchanged meaningful glances, as did Nom Anor and Malik Carr. Then Borga motioned her forces to stand down.

Nas Choka squinted slyly. “So you do have a spark of intelligence, after all.”

Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by the arrival of a Yuuzhan Vong attendant, cradling an already everted villip in his folded arms. A second attendant carried what was obviously one of Choka’s own dedicated villips.

In the language of the Yuuzhan Vong, Choka addressed the facsimile visage of Chine-kal. “Commander, is it true that you have a Jedi Knight in custody?”

“Yes, Supreme Commander. Our rapidly maturing yammosk has the distinction of having exposed him. I thought I might keep him as a prize for Warmaster Tsavong Lah.”

Choka glowered. “I will determine the best use for this Jedi. What is the present position of your vessel?”

“We are nearing a world called Kalarba, Supreme Commander. In fact, we have been awaiting word from you regarding the attack on—”

“Silence!” Choka’s eyes became angry slits. “You will remain at Kalarba and relinquish the Jedi Knight to bearers I am dispatching to rendezvous with the Crèche. Is that clear?”

“Abundantly clear,” Chine-kal’s villip replied deferentially.

Choka cast a glance at Borga. “For your part in this, you have my word that Nal Hutta will remain yours to command for as long as I live and breathe. Unless, of course, you are fool enough to betray me.”

Borga forced a smile. “Then may perfect health shadow you wherever you tread, Excellency.”

“I warned you,” Pazda was telling Borga shortly after the Yuuzhan Vong had left the court. The gray-bearded Desilijic Hutt brought his hoversled closer to Borga’s levitated pallet. “Any dealings with these heathens will come to a dreadful end.”

From her pallet, Borga watched Crev Bombaasa, Gardulla the Younger, and former Consul General Golga nod in agreement. “I myself sensed as much, though I confess I thought we’d be able to remain neutral for a while longer.”

Pazda loosed a scornful sound. “The Yuuzhan Vong do not suffer safe, middle ground. They will have things their way or not at all. Before long, there will be nothing counterfeit about the obeisance we show them.”

From atop a modest repulsorlift couch, Golga looked from Pazda to Borga. “Short of going to war, what can be done?”

Borga interlocked her fingers in patent disquiet. “What was it Senator Viqi Shesh told you regarding New Republic battle contingencies?”

“She intimated that the senate and the military were convinced that the Yuuzhan Vong would strike next at either Corellia or Bothawui,” Golga said. “However, the message I was to deliver to you was that the New Republic hopes to see Corellia attacked, where they evidently have a surprise in store. Senator Shesh also wanted it known that the information was a gift—to rectify an earlier wrong, as I recall. Obviously the New Republic was trusting that the Yuuzhan Vong would call her bluff.”

“I relayed as much to Malik Carr,” Borga said pensively, “and it now appears that Choka has taken the bait. But I begin to wonder who is using whom. If Choka is keen on using us to send a false message to the New Republic, he does so by deliberately putting our spice ships at risk at Bothawui. And if that is indeed the case, he is obviously prepared for the eventuality that we will declare war.”

“You see,” Pazda said, “there is no middle ground.”

Borga turned to the ample Crev Bombaasa. “Triple our usual spice shipments to the Bothan worlds. Let’s be certain we send a clear message to the New Republic that Corellia is the target.”

Bombaasa nodded dubiously. “What about your promise to Choka about sharing information?”

“A promise is like a shipment of spice jettisoned in deep space,” Gardulla the Younger sniped. “It weighs nothing.”

“That may be so,” Crev said, “but if our treachery is discovered, Nal Hutta itself will be imperiled—not to mention Randa.”

“We risk something greater by partnering with the invaders,” Pazda argued.

Everyone waited for Borga’s response.

“Crev is correct,” she said at last. “If we’re to help thwart the Yuuzhan Vong, we must be circumspect. When drawing the Sarlacc from its hole, a wise Hutt uses another’s hand.” She turned to Leenik. “You have a better grasp of Yuuzhan Vong than I. What instructions did Choka give to the commander of the Crèche?”

The Rodian bowed. “Choka said that he was dispatching a ship to rendezvous with the Crèche at Kalarba.”

Borga looked at Crev Bombaasa. “Contact your friend Talon Karrde. Perhaps the Jedi will be interested in learning the whereabouts of one of their missing Knights.”

“I had to see for myself,” Randa Besadii Diori said, using his mighty tail to move himself to the edge of the inhibition field two dovin basals had fashioned aboard the Crèche. “Ah, but of course, there’s no way to identify a Jedi by appearance alone. Consider Luke Skywalker, for example. Looking at him, who would guess he possesses the power he does?”

Under the vigilant gaze of several Yuuzhan Vong guards, Randa sidled closer still, until he was practically belly to nose with the battered human imprisoned within the force field.

“I saw Skywalker once, long ago, perhaps as far back as thirteen of your years, during that sorry business involving Durga and his so-called Darksaber Project. Not that I had anything to do with Durga. I just happened to be visiting the Mulako Corporation Quarry when Skywalker—traveling incognito—showed up in the company of a slender, short-haired human female who seemed to be his paramour. Whatever became of that one, hmmm?”

The prisoner expelled a laugh through his broken nose. “I hear Mara Jade arranged for her permanent disappearance.”

Randa planted his hands on his belly and guffawed. “So are you in fact who Chine-kal says you are—or, should I say, his war coordinator says you are?”

Wurth Skidder’s split upper lip curled. “What do you want, Randa? Or have you just come here to gloat?”

“Gloat? Surely not, Jedi. Rather I’ve come to offer my sympathies. Not only for what Chine-kal has planned for you, but for what the Yuuzhan Vong have planned for the New Republic.”

“I suppose we should all follow your parent’s lead and roll over, is that the idea?”

Randa feigned weariness. “We all serve someone, Jedi—even you. What’s more, you misunderstand us. Though we command a significant volume of galactic space—as is only appropriate for beings of such size and longevity—we have never been empire builders. You insist on thinking of us as warlike, when in fact we share much with the reclusive Hapans.”

“Correction, Randa. The Hapans aren’t outlaws. They’re not interested in smuggling spice or organizing criminal activities wherever they set foot—or tail.”

Randa responded with elaborate chagrin. “Is this the voice of the moral minority I hear? Such vehemence makes me wonder if you aren’t one of those Jedi allied with Kyp Durron, who seems to be on a personal crusade to make the space lanes safe for all law-abiding citizens—despite the fact that many of the smugglers and pirates he has set his sights on served the New Republic in their own way.”

Skidder’s eyes, nearly swollen shut, managed to narrow slightly. “How long do you think the Yuuzhan Vong are going to tolerate your illicit ventures?”

Randa grinned. “My sense of the Yuuzhan Vong is that they have more tolerance for ‘outlaws,’ as you say, than they do for followers of the Force.” He laughed resonantly. “How does it feel to be seen as the chief impediment to progress, a purveyor of rampant evil? Soon, perhaps, you’ll know what it’s like to be hunted and preyed upon, as the Hutts have been in times past.”

Skidder returned Randa’s grin. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and the Yuuzhan Vong will turn that matter over to Borga.”

“Wouldn’t that be the height of irony—that the Hutts should be entrusted with safeguarding the peace and ensuring that justice triumphs?” Randa laughed again. “So long as we can continue to supply spice, I don’t suppose it would be too arduous a responsibility.”

“Your mother would be proud of you, Randa.”

“Your mother,” Chine-kal interrupted as he stormed into the hold, “has succeeded in spoiling my surprise.”

Perplexed, Randa pivoted to the commander.

“Actually, I have you to blame, Randa,” Chine-kal said when he reached the inhibition field. “You told Borga that I had managed to flush out a Jedi, and in turn Borga told my immediate superiors, who now wish to deprive me of the honor of presenting this one”—he gestured to Skidder—“to my superior’s superior.”

Randa’s eyes grew wide. “You mean that he is to be removed from the ship?”

“Presently.”

“But what of your plans to use him to tutor the yammosk in the ways of the Force?”

Chine-kal shrugged. “I will propose as much, and, who knows, this one may yet return to my care. In the meantime I’m certain that Supreme Commander Choka will find other uses for him.” He took a step back to gauge Skidder. “It might be prudent to break you before we surrender you to him. Early in our campaign, the Praetorite Vong applied the breaking to one of you, but that one tried to escape and had to be killed before the process was brought to completion. Did you know him, Jedi?”

Skidder tested the vigor of the dovin basals by moving to the edge of the field. “He was my friend.”

“Your friend?” Chine-kal said in surprise. “And now here you are. Perhaps you came to avenge him?” He paused, then smiled in revelation. “You did. You purposely allowed yourself to be captured on Gyndine, intent on seizing an opportunity to avenge him. But how could you have known that we had a yammosk aboard? And no wonder the yammosk took to you the way it did! Here I thought that my experiment was succeeding brilliantly, when you were effectively running your own experiment.”

Skidder said nothing.

Chine-kal looked at Randa. “I was under the impression that vengeance was outside the operating parameters of the Jedi Knights. Or is this one of the dark side?”

Randa shook his head. “He is not of the dark side, Commander. He and his kind simply take a more liberal approach to defending the peace.”

Chine-kal grew serious. “In that case, it is incumbent on me to purge him of some of his hatred before he is released. I won’t have Supreme Commander Choka getting more than he bargained for.”

Chine-kal turned and headed for the passageway. “Finish your business with him, Randa,” he added without turning around. “It’s unlikely you will see him again.”

Randa watched the commander leave the hold, then he pressed himself as close to the inhibition field as possible. “They’re planning to betray me!” he whispered harshly. “To subject me to the yammosk as they did with you! Help me, Jedi. Save me from them, and I will do anything you ask of me!”