by Timothy Zahn
"Is that just in the first group?" Mara asked.
First group? Luke frowned, letting his focus open up again. She was right: there was a second group coming up behind the first. "That's just the first group," he confirmed. "Second group . . . I get five or six there, too. I'm not sure, but they might be a different species from the first."
Han looked at Lando. "What do you think?"
"I don't like it," Lando said, fingering his blaster uneasily. "Mara, how well do these species usually get along?"
"Not all that well," she said. "There was some trade and other stuff going on when I was here; but there were also stories about long, three-way wars between them and the human colonists."
Chewbacca growled a suggestion: that the aliens might be joining forces against them. "That's a fun thought," Han said. "How about it, Luke?"
Luke strained, but it was no use. "Sorry," he said. "There's plenty of emotion there, but I don't have any basis for figuring out what kind."
"They've stopped," Mara said, her face tight with concentration. "Both groups."
Han grimaced. "I guess this is it. Lando, Mara—you stay here and guard the camp. Luke, Chewie, let's go check 'em out."
They headed up the rocky slope and into the forest, moving as quietly as possible among the bushes and dead leaves underfoot. "They know we're coming yet?" Han muttered over his shoulder.
Luke stretched out with the Force. "I can't tell," he said. "But they don't seem to be coming any closer."
Chewbacca rumbled something Luke didn't catch. "Could be," Han said. "It'd be pretty stupid to hold a council of war this close to their target, though."
And then, ahead and to their left, Luke caught a shadowy movement beside a thick tree trunk. "Watch it!" he warned, his lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss. In the green-white light from the blade a small figure in a tightfitting hooded garment could be seen as it ducked back behind the trunk, barely getting out of the way as Han's quick shot blew a sizable pit in one side of the trunk. Chewbacca's bowcaster bolt was a split second behind Han's, gouging out a section of the trunk on the other side. Through the erupting cloud of smoke and splinters the figure could be seen briefly as it darted from the rapidly decreasing cover of its chosen tree toward another, thicker trunk. Even as Han swung his blaster to track it, a strange warbling split the air, sounding like a dozen alien birds—
And with a roar that was part recognition, part understanding, and part relief, Chewbacca swung the end of his bowcaster into Han's blaster, sending the shot wide of its intended target. "Chewie—!" Han barked.
"No—he's right," Luke cut him off. Suddenly, it had all come together for him, too. "You—stop."
The order was unnecessary. The shadowy figure had already come to a halt, standing unprotected in the open, its hooded face shaded from the faint light of Luke's lightsaber.
Luke took a step toward it. "I'm Luke Skywalker," he said formally. "Brother of Leia Organa Solo, son of the Lord Darth Vader. Who are you?"
"I am Ekhrikhor clan Bakh'tor," the gravelly Noghri voice replied. "I greet you, son of Vader."
The clearing Ekhrikhor led them to was close, only twenty meters or so further along the vector Luke had started them on in the first place. The aliens were there, all right: two different types, five of each, standing on the far side of a thick fallen tree trunk. On the near side stood two more Noghri in those camouflaged outfits of theirs with the hoods thrown back. Propped up on the log between the two sides was some sort of compact worklight, giving off just enough of a glow for Han to pick out the details of the nearest aliens.
It wasn't very encouraging. The group on the right were a head taller than the Noghri facing them and maybe a head shorter than Han. Covered with lumpy plates, they looked more like walking rock piles than anything else. The group on the left were nearly as tall as Chewbacca, with four arms each and a shiny, bluish-crystal skin that reminded Han of the brownish thing they'd had to shoot off Threepio their first day here. "Friendly-looking bunch," he muttered to Luke as their group moved toward the last line of trees between them and the clearing.
"They are the Myneyrshi and Psadans," Ekhrikhor said. "They have been seeking to confront you."
"And you've been driving them off?" Luke asked.
"They sought to confront," the Noghri repeated. "We could not permit that."
They stopped just inside the clearing. A rustle ran through the aliens, one that didn't sound all that friendly. "I get the feeling we aren't all that welcome," Han said. "Luke?"
Beside him, he felt Luke shake his head. "I still can't read anything solid," he said. "What's this all about, Ekhrikhor?"
"They have indicated they wish a conversation with us," the Noghri said. "Perhaps to decide whether they will seek to give us battle."
Han gave the aliens a quick once-over. They all seemed to be wearing knives, and there were a couple of bows in evidence, but he didn't see anything more advanced. "They better hope they brought an army with them," he said.
"We don't want to fight at all if we can avoid it," Luke reproved him mildly. "How are you going to communicate with them?"
"One of them learned a little of the Empire's Basic when the storehouse was being built beneath the mountain," Ekhrikhor said, pointing to the Myneyrsh standing closest to the work light. "He will attempt to translate."
"We might be able to do a little better." Luke raised his eyebrows at Han. "What do you think?"
"It's worth a try," Han agreed, pulling out his comlink. It was about time Threepio earned his keep, anyway. "Lando?"
"Right here," Lando's voice came instantly. "You find the aliens?"
"Yeah, we found them," Han said. "Plus a surprise or two. Have Mara bring Threepio here—if she heads out the way we went she'll run right into us."
"Got it," Lando said. "What about me?"
"I don't think this bunch will give us any trouble," Han said, giving the aliens another once-over. "You and Artoo might as well stay there and keep an eye on the camp. Oh, and if you see some short guys with camouflage suits and lots of teeth, don't shoot. They're on our side."
"I'm glad," Lando said dryly. "I think. Anything else?"
Han looked at the groups of shadowy aliens, all of them staring straight back at him. "Yeah—cross your fingers. We might be about to pick up some allies. Or else a whole lot of trouble down the road."
"Right. Mara and Threepio are on their way. Good luck."
"Thanks." Shutting off the comlink, Han returned it to his belt. "They're coming," he told Luke.
"There is no need for them to guard your camp," Ekhrikhor said. "The Noghri will protect it."
"That's okay," Han said. "It's getting crowded enough here as it is." He eyed Ekhrikhor. "So I was right. We were followed in."
"Yes," Ekhrikhor said, bowing his head. "And for that deception I beg your forgiveness, consort of the Lady Vader. I and others did not feel it entirely honorable; but Cakhmaim clan Eikh'mir wished our presence to be kept hidden from you."
"Why?"
Ekhrikhor bowed again. "Cakhmaim clan Eikh'mir felt hostility from you in the Lady Vader's suite," he said. "He believed you would not willingly accept a guard of Noghri to accompany you."
Han looked at Luke, caught the kid's halfway try at hiding a grin. "Well, next time you see Cakhmaim, you tell him that I stopped passing up free help years ago," he told Ekhrikhor. "But as long as we're discussing hostility, you can knock off that 'consort of the Lady Vader' stuff. Call me Han, or Solo. Or Captain. Or practically anything else."
"Han clan Solo, maybe," Luke murmured.
Ekhrikhor brightened. "That is good," he said. "We beg your forgiveness, Han clan Solo."
Han looked at Luke. "I think you've been adopted," Luke said, fighting that grin again.
"Yeah," Han said. "Thanks. A lot."
"A little rapport never hurts," Luke pointed out. "Remember Endor."
"I'm not likely to forget," Han growled, feeling his lip twist. Sure, the little f
uzzballs there had done their bit in that final battle against the second Death Star. That didn't change the fact that being made part of an Ewok tribe was one of the more ridiculous things he'd ever had to go through.
Still, the Ewoks had overwhelmed the Imperial troops by sheer weight of numbers. The Noghri, on the other hand— "How many of you are there here?" he asked Ekhrikhor.
"There are eight," the other replied. "Two each have traveled before, after, and on either side of you during your journey."
Han nodded, feeling a grudging trickle of unwilling respect for these things. Eight of them, silently killing or driving away predators and natives. Day and night both. And still finding time on top of it to clear their path of nuisances like clawbirds and vine snakes.
He looked down at Ekhrikhor. No, the adoption process didn't feel quite so ridiculous this time around.
From somewhere behind them came a familiar shuffling sound. Han turned, and a moment later the equally familiar golden figure of Threepio traipsed into view. Beside him and a half-step behind was Mara, blaster in hand. "Master Luke," Threepio called, his voice its usual mixture of relieved and anxious and just plain prissy.
"Over here, Threepio," Luke called back. "Think you can do some translation for us?"
"I'll do my best," the droid said. "As you know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communica—"
"I see you found the natives," Mara cut him off, giving the group by the log a quick survey as she and Threepio stepped into the clearing. Her eyes fell on Ekhrikhor— "And a little surprise, too," she added, her blaster quietly shifting its aim toward the Noghri.
"It's all right—he's a friend," Luke assured her, reaching toward her blaster.
"I don't think so," Mara said, twitching the weapon to the side out of his reach. "They're Noghri. They work for Thrawn."
"We serve him no longer," Ekhrikhor told her.
"That's true, Mara, they don't," Luke said.
"Maybe," Mara said. She still wasn't happy about it, but at least her blaster wasn't pointed exactly at Ekhrikhor anymore.
Across the clearing, the Myneyrsh nearest the log pulled what seemed to be a bleached-white stuffed clawbird from a shoulder pouch. Speaking inaudibly under his breath, he laid it in front of him beside the worklight. "What's that?" Han asked. "Lunch?"
"It is called the satna-chakka," Ekhrikhor said. "It is a bond of peace while this meeting lasts. They are ready to begin. You—Threepio-droid—come with me."
"Of course," Threepio said, not sounding exactly thrilled by the whole arrangement. "Master Luke . . . ?"
"I'll come with you," Luke soothed. "Han, Chewie—you stay here."
"No argument from me," Han said.
With a clearly reluctant Threepio in tow, Luke and the Noghri headed toward the log. The head Myneyrsh raised its upper two hands over his head, palm inwards. "Bidaesi charaa," he said, his voice surprisingly melodious. "Lyaaunu baaraemaa dukhnu phaeri."
"He announces the arrival of the strangers," Threepio said precisely. "Presumably, that refers to us. He fears, however, that we will bring danger and trouble again to his people."
Beside Han, Chewbacca rumbled a sarcastic comment. "No, they're not much for small talk," Han agreed. "Not much for diplomacy, either."
"We bring hope to your people," the chief Noghri countered. "If you let us pass, we will free you from the domination of the Empire."
Threepio translated, the melodious Myneyrshi words still coming out prissy, in Han's opinion. One of the lumpy Psadans made a chopping gesture and said something that sounded like a faint and distant scream with consonants scattered around in it. "He says that the Psadan people have long memories," Threepio translated. "Apparently, deliverers have come before but nothing has ever changed."
"Welcome to the real world," Han muttered.
Luke threw a look at him over his shoulder. "Ask him to explain, Threepio," he told the droid.
Threepio complied, quiet-screaming back at the Psadan and then throwing in a Myneyrshi translation, too, just to show he could do it. The Psadan's answer went on for several minutes, and Han's ears were starting to hurt by the time he was done.
"Well," Threepio said, tilting his head and settling into the professor mode Han had always hated. "There are many details—but I will pass those by for now," he added hastily, probably at a look from one of the Noghri. "The humans who came as colonists were the first invaders. They drove the native peoples from some of their lands, and were stopped only when their lightning bows and metal birds—those are their terms, of course—began to fail. Much later came the Empire, who as we know built into the forbidden mountain. They enslaved many of the native peoples to help on the project and drove others from their lands. After the builders left came someone who called himself the Guardian, and he, too, sought control over the native peoples. Finally, the one who called himself the Jedi Master came, and in a battle that lit up the sky he defeated the Guardian. For a time the native peoples thought they might be freed, but the Jedi Master brought humans and native peoples to himself and forced them to live together beneath the shadow of the forbidden mountain. Finally, the Empire has returned." Threepio tilted his head back again. "As you can see, Master Luke, we are merely the last in a long line of invaders."
"Except that we're not invaders," Luke said. "We're here to free them from the rule of the Empire."
"I understand that, Master Luke—"
"I know you do," Luke interrupted the droid. "Tell them that."
"Oh. Yes. Of course."
He started into his translation. "You ask me, I don't think they've had it all that bad," Han muttered to Chewbacca. "The Empire took whole planets away from some people."
"Primitives always have this reaction to visitors," Mara said. "They usually have long memories, too."
"Yeah. Maybe. You suppose that Jedi Master they were talking about was your pal C'baoth?"
"Who else?" Mara said grimly. "This must be where Thrawn found him."
Han felt his stomach tighten. "You think he's here now?"
"I don't sense anything," Mara said slowly. "Doesn't mean he can't come back."
The head Myneyrsh was talking again. Han let his gaze drift around the clearing. Were there other Myneyrshi and Psadans out there keeping an eye on the big debate? Luke hadn't said anything about backups, but they'd have to be crazy not to have them somewhere nearby.
Unless Ekhrikhor's pals had already taken care of them. If this didn't work, it could turn out to be handy having the Noghri around.
The Myneyrsh finished its speech. "I'm sorry, Master Luke," Threepio apologized. "They say they have no reason to assume we are any different than all those they have already spoken of."
"I understand their fears," Luke nodded. "Ask them how we can prove our good intentions."
Threepio started to translate; and as he did so, a hard Wookiee elbow jabbed into Han's shoulder. "What?" Han asked.
Chewbacca nodded toward his left, his bowcaster already up and tracking. Han followed the movement with his eyes—"Uh-oh."
"What is it?" Mara demanded.
Han opened his mouth; then, suddenly, there wasn't time to tell her. The wiry predator Chewbacca had spotted slinking through the tree branches had stopped slinking and was coiling itself to spring at the discussion group. "Look out!" he snapped instead, bringing his blaster up.
