FIVE

Luke felt as though he had swallowed a jug of minnows. Ben had turned an alarming hue of green. Mara, who could normally whirl-dance for hours in weak gravity, held her jaws clamped tight against the possibility of an embarrassing eruption. The Skywalkers were hardly micro-g novices, but their stomachs were rebelling at the utter strangeness of the asteroid colony—at the sticky gold wax that lined the corridors, at the constant thrum of insect sounds, at the endless parade of six-limbed, meter-high workers scurrying past on the walls and ceiling.

Saba, however, seemed entirely comfortable. She was moving along in front, trotting along a wall on all fours, her head swinging from side to side and her long tongue licking the sweet air. Luke suspected that the heat and mugginess reminded her of Barab I, but maybe she just liked the way her hands and feet squished into the corridor’s wax lining. Barabels, he had noticed, took pleasure in the oddest things.

They came to a cockeyed intersection, and Luke stopped to listen to a strange pulsing sound that was rumbling out of a crooked side tunnel. It was muted, eerie, and rasping, but there was a definite melody and rhythm.

“Music,” he said.

“If you’re from Tatooine, maybe,” Mara said. “The rest of us would call that a rancor belch.”

“This one likez it,” Saba said. “It makez her tail shake.”

“I’ve seen squeaky thrust impellers make your tail shake,” Mara said. She pointed at the floor, where a steady flow of booted feet had worn the wax down to the stone. “But it is popular. Let’s check it out.”

They started up the passage, and Ben asked, “Is this where Jaina is?”

“No,” Luke said. Ben had been repeating the same question since they had emerged from hyperspace. “I told you, she’s not in the asteroid colony.”

“Then where is she?”

“We don’t know.” Luke looked over his shoulder at Ben. “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

Ben considered this a moment, then said, “If you don’t know where she’s at, then maybe she is here, and maybe you just don’t know it.”

This sent Saba into a fit of sissing. “He has you there, Master Skywalker.”

Ben retreated behind his mother, and Luke found himself worrying about the boy’s strange fear of Saba. They had made a point of exposing him to friends of many species early in his life, and only Saba still seemed to frighten him.

Luke smiled patiently, then explained, “Ben, if Jaina were here, I would feel her in the Force.”

“Oh.”

Surprised that Ben was willing to drop the matter with that, Luke added, “But I do feel Aunt Leia. She’s here with Uncle Han.”

Saba stopped on the wall ahead and peered back down at Luke. “The Soloz are here? This one thought they were going to hunt Three-Eye.”

“So did this one.” Luke could not quite keep the displeasure out of his voice. “Apparently, they decided it was more important to join us.”

“And they have every right,” Mara said. “We’ve seen Jaina more than they have in the past year, and with Jacen still off chasing Force-lore…Han and Leia must be lonely.” She ruffled Ben’s hair. “I would be.”

“I know,” Luke said, feeling guilty now for his irritation. He had grown so accustomed to everyone doing as the council asked that he tended to forget that it had no formal authority; everyone—especially the Solos—served at their own pleasure. “They’ve already done more than we have a right to ask.”

“And what of Three-Eye?” Saba asked. “Who will stop her?”

“It might not be a bad thing to let the Reconstruction Police handle that one until we find Jaina,” Luke said. “After that, the council can send her and Alema back with Zekk. It shouldn’t take the three of them long to clean up the problem.”

“If they will go.” Saba continued up the corridor shaking her head. “This one is beginning to doubt the wisdom of our council. Every pack needz a longfang, or itz hunters will scatter after their own prey.”

“The Jedi are a different kind of pack,” Luke said, following after her. “We’re an entire pack of longfangs.”

“A pack of longfangz?” Saba let out a trio of short sisses and disappeared around a bend. “Oh, Master Skywalker…”

As they continued up the passage, the music grew clearer. There was an erratic chirping that struck Luke as singing, a rhythmic grating that passed for percussion, a harsh fluting that provided the melody. The overall effect was surprisingly buoyant, and Luke soon found himself enjoying it.

After about fifty meters, the passage opened into a cavernous, dimly lit chamber filled with rough-looking spacers. The music came from a clear area in the center of the room, where a trio of stick-like Verpine stood playing beneath the chemical glow of a dozen waxy shine-balls. Luke found himself studying their instrument, trying to imagine how they made so many different sounds sharing only one string.

“Astral!” Ben left Mara’s side and started into the cantina. “This is gonna blast!”

Mara caught him by the shoulder. “Not a chance.”

He gave her a knowing smirk, for they had left Nanna behind to help R2-D2 watch the Shadow. “You can’t leave me out here alone. I’m only eight.”

“What makes you think you’ll be alone?” Mara nodded Luke toward the cantina, then said to Ben, “You and I will stand watch out here.”

Luke and Saba stepped through the door. The usual assortment of riffraff spacers—Givin, Bothans, Nikto, Quarren—were gathered in the middle of the room, sitting on synthetic stone benches and holding their drinks in their laps. A few hard cases, such as the Defel “shadow Wraith” hiding in the corner and a Jenet hoodlum holding court on the far side of the chamber, sat apart from the group. Many of the patrons were listing in their seats, but there was none of the latent hostility that usually permeated the Force in spaceport cantinas.

Luke followed Saba to the service area, where a distracted Duros stood at the end of a long bank of beverage dispensers. There was no counter or ordering station, nor anything that looked like a payment terminal, but a soft clicking noise was coming from a darkened alcove beneath the middle dispenser. As they drew near, the clicking stopped and a worker insect emerged from the alcove. It stared up at them for a moment, then handed an empty cup to both of them and retreated into its alcove.

Luke and Saba studied the unmarked dispensers for a moment, then Saba hissed in frustration. She walked over to the inattentive Duros and thrust her mug into his hands.

“Bloodsour.”

The Duros swung his noseless head around sharply, then saw he was being addressed by a Barabel. The blue drained from his face.

“Don’t have bloodsour,” he said in his flat Duros voice. “Only membrosia.”

“Will this one like it?”

The Duros nodded. “Everyone likes membrosia.”

“Then I’ll have the same,” Luke said, passing his mug over.

The Duros studied Luke’s face for a moment, clearly struggling to place it in some context other than a pair of well-worn flight utilities.

“I’m just a pilot,” Luke said, reinforcing the Force illusion he was using to disguise himself. “A thirsty pilot.”

“Sure.”

The Duros turned to the nearest dispenser and filled both mugs with a thick amber liquid, then returned the cups. Luke pulled a ten-credit voucher from his pocket, but the Duros waved it off.

“Nobody pays here.”

“Nobody payz?” Saba echoed. “This one doesn’t believe you.”

A hint of indignation permeated the Force, then the Duros shrugged and looked back to the Verpine musicians.

Saba studied him for a moment, then glanced at Luke. “This one is tired. She will find a seat.”

She took a sip from her mug, then started to work her way deeper into the cantina. The Duros looked as though he wished Luke would join her, but Luke remained where he was, pouring camaraderie and goodwill into the Force. The Duros’ aloofness did not melt until Saba raised a storm of angry jabbering by taking an empty seat in front of an Ewok.

“This should be interesting.” The Duros grinned. “That little Ewok has a death mark in ten systems.”

“You don’t say.” Luke took a sip of membrosia. It was sweet and thick and potent, warming him from his toes to his ear tips. He allowed himself a moment to savor the sense of well-being that came with the intoxicating heat, then asked the Duros, “Have you been here long?”

“Too long,” the Duros said. “Turns out Lizil doesn’t use processing chips, and now I can’t get a cargo out.”

“Is that a common problem?”

“Common, but not a problem.” The Duros waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the membrosia dispensers. “Everything’s free, and you can stay as long as you want.”

“Very generous,” Luke said. “What’s the catch?”

“Isn’t one,” the Duros said. “Except you get used to it, and then you don’t want to leave.”

“That sounds like a catch to me,” Luke said.

“Depends on how you look at it,” the Duros admitted. “Especially if you have obligations at home.”

“Why don’t you just take your chips back to the known galaxy?” Luke asked. “With so many manufacturing worlds destroyed by the war, the Galactic Alliance is desperate for processing chips.”

“Too dangerous.” The Duros cocked his big head toward Luke. “You wouldn’t want some kriffing bounty hunter to catch you with these particular chips.”

“Ah,” Luke said. Lando and Tendra had put up a million-credit reward for a load of specialized processing chips that had been hijacked on its way to Tendrando Arms’ new rehab-droid factory. “That makes sense.”

“Void-breathing right it does,” the Duros said. “Already had five Jedi come through on my tail. That’s when I decided to dump the load.”

Luke tried not to wince at the loss of the vital chips. “You’re sure the Jedi were looking for you?”

“Who else would they be looking for?” The Duros shook his head, then said, “I knew Calrissian had pull with the Jedi, but who’d have guessed it was that strong?”

“Not me,” Luke answered. He stepped closer to the Duros and lowered his voice. “Were they fairly young? A couple of humans with a Barabel and a Wookiee?”

“And a Twi’lek.” The Duros’ voice grew suspicious, and he began to ease away from Luke. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve got a little problem of my own with them,” Luke said. “And I don’t want to find them waiting at my next stop. Know where they went?”

The Duros watched the Verpine band for a moment, no doubt trying to find a way to work an angle for himself. Luke poured a little more goodwill into the Force, and finally the Duros shook his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’d need to ask Lizil.”

Before Luke could ask how to find Lizil, he realized someone new was coming up behind him. The person seemed both to have her own presence in the Force and to be a part of the larger, diffuse essence that permeated the entire asteroid colony. He turned to find a striking Falleen female approaching, her scaly skin almost as green as a male’s. She acknowledged Luke with a polite nod, then stopped before the Duros.

“Tarnis, we have a cargo for you,” she said.

The Duros took a sip of membrosia and tried to appear calm. “To where?”

“The Horoh nest,” the Falleen answered. “You’ll be given a load to take home, of course.”

Tarnis’s eyes grew round—at least by Duros standards. “Done.”

When the Duros did not instantly start for the exit, the Falleen said, “It requires immediate departure. Lizil is already loading the Starsong.”

“No problem.” Tarnis placed his mug on the floor. “I’ll just gather my crew—”

“We’re gathering them now.” The Falleen started toward the exit. “They’ll meet you in the hangar.”

“Right behind you,” Tarnis said. He started after the Falleen, shaking his head in amazement. “Finally!”

Seeing that he had been forgotten in the excitement, Luke used the Force to slow the Duros down, then cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah.” Tarnis took the Falleen’s arm and gestured toward Luke. “This fellow wants to talk. I can find my own way to the hangar.”

The Falleen barely slowed. “We’re very busy.” She glanced over her shoulder, but avoided Luke’s eyes. “Enjoy the hospitality of the nest.”

When Luke reached out to probe her feelings, he experienced a deep sense of worry. Her scales rippled in alarm; then an enormous, murky presence rose inside her mind and pushed him out so forcibly that he stumbled into a membrosia dispenser.

As Tarnis and the Falleen walked out the exit, Mara peered around the corner, checking to be certain the surprise she had felt was nothing to be alarmed about. Luke smiled and turned around to display the new membrosia stain on the back of his utilities, then watched intently as Tarnis and the Falleen disappeared down the corridor.

Once the pair were far enough ahead that she would not be noticed following, Mara took Ben’s hand and started down the corridor, talking as though they were just a mother and son returning to their vessel.

Luke worked his way to the cantina center and sat on a bench next to a pair of Ishi Tib. He remained quiet for a few moments, pretending to listen to the music but actually reaching out in the Force to search for eavesdropping devices. He was not quite certain what had happened over at the membrosia dispensers, but he felt certain that the Falleen’s arrival had been no coincidence. Lizil—whoever that was—had not wanted Tarnis to talk about Jaina and the others.

After a few minutes, Luke finally felt confident that he could ask his questions in peace. He began to pour out feelings of comradery and goodwill, and it wasn’t long before the nearest Ishi Tib turned toward him.

“My name is Zelara.” She pointed at her companion, who swiveled her eyestalks around and gently clacked her beak. “This is Lyari. She likes you.”

Luke smiled back. “Thank you.”

Zelara batted the lids of her yellow eyes. “I like you.”

“That’s very nice.” He eased off the good feelings, then said, “Actually, I’m looking for some friends—”

“We’ll be your friends,” Lyari said. She came around to Luke’s other side, then slipped her stubby hand through the crook of his arm. Her breath smelled heavily of membrosia. “I’ve never felt this way about a human before.”

“Me, either.” Zelara took Luke’s other arm. “But this one is cute, even with the recessed eyes.”

“Ladies, that’s just the membrosia talking.” Luke sensed Mara already returning to the cantina. She did not feel angry or frightened, but she was frustrated; she had lost the Duros and his escort. “I’m looking for a group of young travelers who came through here. There would’ve been at least two humans, a Twi’lek, a Barabel—”

“And a Wookiee?” Lyari asked.

“Then you’ve seen them,” Luke said.

Lyari opened her beak in a sort of smile. “Maybe.”

“Maybe not,” Zelara added. She began to tug at the chest closures on Luke’s utilities. “Let us have a look inside, and we’ll tell you.”

Luke caught her hand. “It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for us to—”

“Come on, bright boy.” Lyari reached for closures a little farther down. “Give us a chance.”

“No.” Luke put enough Force behind the word to prevent Lyari from ripping open his utilities. “That would never work.”

“Why not?” Zelara demanded.

“Because I have lips and you have beaks, for starters.”

Zelara spread her eyestalks. “You’d be surprised what a girl can do with her beak.”

“Let me show you,” Lyari said. She caught Luke’s nose in her beak and gave it a tug.

“Ouch!” Luke reached up and freed his nose. Other people were starting to look in their direction, and that was exactly what he didn’t want. “Please, ladies. Just tell me what you know about my friends.”

Zelara ripped his chest closures open, revealing Luke’s undershirt. “First you show, then—”

Mara’s astonishment hit Luke like a Force hammer, and he failed to hear the rest of Zelara’s comment. He turned toward the exit and saw Mara swinging her hand down to cover their son’s eyes.

“Who’s that?” Lyari asked, following his gaze.

“My wife.”

“Wife?” the Ishi Tib repeated in unison. They jumped to their feet, Zelara crying, “You didn’t tell us you were mated!”

“And he’s got a fry, too!” Lyari exclaimed.

The outburst caused the Verpine musicians to fumble over a string of notes, and several annoyed patrons turned to suggest that Luke and the Ishi Tib take their personal lives to a quiet corner.

Mara rolled her eyes, then shook her head and dragged a very reluctant Ben around the corner.

Luke sent her a feeling of reassurance, trying to make sure she knew there was a good explanation. He received an impression of amused doubtfulness in reply, then he heard Saba sissing from across the room and realized he might never live this one down. He shook his head in disgust, then closed his utilities and looked up at the Ishi Tib.

“Will you please sit?”

Zelara put a hand on her hip. “I don’t think so.”

“You just forget about us, you double-spawner.” Lyari shooed him toward the exit. “You’d better go catch your mate and that little fry.”

“As soon as you answer me.” Luke grabbed both Ishi Tib by their wrists and pulled them down. “When did you see my friends? The Wookiee and the Barabel and the others?”

“When they were here,” Zelara answered coolly.

“Which was?” Luke put the Force behind his question, pressuring her to answer.

“I don’t know.” Zelara turned to Lyari. “When was that?”

“Who can remember? They only stayed a day.”

Luke started to pressure Lyari to think back, then realized that someone else was approaching. As with the Falleen who had led Tarnis away, the newcomer appeared to have a double presence in the Force, except that the individual essence felt much more menacing and powerful than had the Falleen’s. Luke turned and, when he saw a blocky shadow with red eyes and white fangs approaching, nearly reached for his lightsaber.

The Defel watched Luke’s hand until it dropped back to his side, then turned to the Ishi Tib. “The nest has secured a barrel of fresh Tibrin salts,” he rasped. “We are preparing an immersion tank now.”

“For us?” Zelara gasped.

“Where?” Lyari demanded.

The Defel offered a shadow-furred arm to each of them. “We’ll escort you.”

“First, answer my question,” Luke said, putting the weight of the Force behind his command.

Lyari started to stop and look back, but the Defel pulled her forward.

“Come, ladies.” His eyes flared red. “The immersion tank is growing cool.”

The same murky presence Luke had felt before rose against him. It was not a Force attack, merely an enormous exertion of will. Had he wanted to, Luke could have found another way to maintain his hold, but that would have meant drawing even more of the mysterious entity’s attention to himself than he already had.

Besides, Saba was on her way over, a furry little Ewok at her side. It was the Ewok she had sat in front of earlier, with a single white stripe running diagonally across a stocky body that was otherwise as black as space. They stopped in front of Luke and stood there sissing and chortling together.

“Go ahead,” Luke said. “Get it out of your system now. Who’s your friend?”

“Tar…Tarfang,” Saba laughed. “He sayz he can help us find our friendz…if you are finished chasing Ishi Tib.”