by Troy Denning
Then a knowing light came to Kyp’s brown eyes. “You’re worried about your husbands!” He flashed a reassuring smile that came off as more of a smirk in the hologram. “That’s only natural, ladies. But Han and Master Skywalker can take care of themselves. I’ve been in worse places than this with both of them, lots of times.”
Mara sighed. “No, Kyp, that’s not it.”
“What Master Skywalker means is that we need to act quickly,” Kenth said. “With the Colony provoking the Chiss again, the situation is too unpredictable. The sooner we resolve this, the less likely it is to blow up in our faces worse than it already has.”
Corran nodded sagely. “Our reputation has already taken a bad hit, especially in the Senate.”
Kyp looked doubtful. “That’s it? You’re worried that things might get a little messy?”
“Yes, Kyp, that’s it,” Leia said. “Except that if things get messy, they’re going to get very messy. We need to prove to the Chiss—and everyone else—that the Jedi can be counted on.”
Kyp considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. But we need a backup plan, because we’re never going to get to Han and Luke without the Dark Nest knowing. Those bugs are good.”
“Good?” Saba sissed in amused disbelief. “You spent too much of your life in the spice minez, Kyp Durron. There is too much methane in them. They taste like a—”
“I think he meant they were skilled observers, Master Sebatyne,” Leia said. “I’m sure that Master Durron has never actually eaten a Gorog.”
“No?” Saba’s tail thumped the floor. “Not even a little one?”
“Not even a taste.” Kyp was quick to change the subject. “Now, about our backup plan. I have one.”
“That was easy,” Corran said. “Will it work?”
“Of course,” Kyp said. “We just take out Raynar and the Unu.”
“Kill them?” Corran’s tone was shocked.
Kyp grew thoughtful. “That would work, too, and it would be a lot easier than bringing Raynar back here alive—at least if he’s as powerful as everyone says.”
“You can’t!” Zekk objected. “It would destroy the Colony!”
“Actually, it would only return the Killiks to their natural state,” Mara corrected. “There was no Colony until Raynar came along.”
“That’s like saying there was no Jedi order until Uncle Luke came along,” Jaina countered.
“You can’t destroy an interstellar civilization just because it didn’t exist ten years ago,” Zekk added.
“Probably not,” Kenth replied. “But when that civilization refuses to honor its agreements and live in peace with its neighbors, we may find ourselves duty-bound to try.”
“I might argue with that,” Corran said. “War is one thing. But assassination . . . that’s not something Jedi do.”
“Especially when you have a better way to handle the problem,” Jaina said.
“Jaina,” Leia said, “if you’re talking about you and Zekk going back to the Killiks, forget it.”
“Why?” Zekk demanded. “Because you’re afraid you’ll lose us the way you lost Anakin?”
Coming from Zekk’s mouth instead of Jaina’s, the question felt just bizarre enough that the dagger of loss it drove into Leia’s chest did not find her heart. She retained her composure and studied her daughter’s image in silence, but Jaina was too tough to be stared down over the HoloNet. She simply accepted Leia’s glare with the unblinking eyes of a Joiner, then spoke in an even voice.
“We’re sorry, Mother. That was uncalled-for.”
“But we’re still Jedi,” Zekk added. “You can’t stop us from doing what Jedi do.”
Mara leaned close to the holocam and spoke in a sharp voice. “She isn’t trying to—and you know it.” She waited until the pair gave a grudging nod, then asked, “But if you can do this in a better way, let’s hear it.”
Jaina’s and Zekk’s eyes bugged in surprise. “You’d send us back?”
“If that was the best way,” Mara said. “Of course.”
Leia stiffened and would have objected, save that Saba sensed what she was about to do and gave a warning hiss. It had not been her place to tell Jaina and Zekk to forget returning to the Killiks, and now Mara had to waste valuable time correcting the mistake. After a lifetime of leadership in both politics and the military, Leia sometimes found it difficult to remember that in the Jedi order, she was technically just another Jedi Knight—and, as far as Saba was concerned, a fairly junior one at that.
After a few moments’ silence from Jaina and Zekk, Mara prompted, “We’re listening.”
Jaina and Zekk furrowed their brows, then Jaina finally said, “We could talk to UnuThul.”
“And say what?” Kyp demanded. “That he should make the Killiks stop harboring pirates and running black membrosia?”
“You said Gorog was controlling him,” Zekk pointed out. “We could make him see that.”
“Or watch him until Gorog shows herself,” Jaina said. “Then follow her to her nest.”
“Listen to yourselvez!” Saba said, leaning over Leia toward the holocam. “That is why you cannot go.”
“I agree,” Kenth said. “You’re both outstanding Jedi. But when it comes to the Colony, it’s clear that all you want is to return.”
“You can’t go back,” Kyp agreed. “It would be bad for you and worse for us.”
In the face of the Masters’ opposition, Jaina and Zekk dropped their gazes. “Sorry,” Jaina said.
“We’ll go back to the Tibanna tappers.”
As Zekk spoke, a hailing light activated on the command console.
“It’s just that—”
“Hold on,” Leia said, relieved to have an excuse to cut off Zekk’s plea. “Someone’s trying to contact us on this end.”
She opened a sequestered holochannel, and the pink, high-domed head of a Mon Calamari appeared over an empty holopad.
“Cilghal!” Leia said. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”
“Analyzing that froth turned out to be easier than we had feared.”
“That’s good news,” Leia said.
“Not really,” Cilghal replied.
“Is this something the whole planning group will need to hear?” Mara asked.
Cilghal’s short eyestalks sagged. “Probably so.”
Leia patched the Mon Calamari’s channel into the network. “Cilghal has made some progress on the Dark Nest’s froth.”
“Actually, I doubt the Dark Nest is responsible for the froth,” Cilghal said. “From what we know of Killik society, they have no nanotechnology abilities at all.”
“Nanotech?” Kyp echoed. “As in molecule machines?”
“As in self-replicating molecule machines,” Cilghal corrected. “The sample that Master Sebatyne gave me appears to be a terraforming system. From what I can tell, it’s designed to create and maintain an environmental balance optimal for its creators.”
“Yes,” Saba said. “But what does it do?”
“I’m not sure we’ll ever understand completely.” Cilghal steepled her webbed fingers beneath her chin tentacles. “It’s very advanced, far beyond any nanotechnology capabilities here in the Galactic Alliance.”
Saba rasped in impatience.
“Basically,” Cilghal continued, “the system consists of many different kinds of tiny machines. Some of those machines monitor the soil, the air, the water. When they detect a notable imbalance in the environment, they join together and become machines that disassemble the contaminants, molecule by molecule, then use that raw material to build more machines. That’s what is happening when you see the froth.”
“And these contaminants,” Corran said. “They are . . . ?”
“Whatever lies outside the system parameters,” Cilghal said. “Toxic spills, spinglass buildings, droids, Killiks—in short, anything in sufficient amounts that wasn’t on Woteba when Leia and Han found it.”
Leia’s heart sank. Movin
g the Killiks to Woteba had felt a little too convenient all along, and now she knew there was a reason.
“This is great news!” Jaina said.
“The Colony isn’t lying to us after all!” Zekk added.
“Don’t start your victory rolls yet,” Kyp warned. “Maybe the Killiks didn’t make this stuff, but the Dark Nest is still using it to turn the Colony against us.”
“Only until UnuThul understands what happened,” Zekk said.
“Once we disable the nanotech, he’ll see that we weren’t trying to trick him,” Jaina added.
“I’m afraid he’s going to have to take our word for it,” Cilghal said.
Jaina and Zekk frowned. “Why?”
“Because the system is probably worldwide, and it is certainly very resilient.” Cilghal interlaced her fingers, then her hands dropped out of the hologram. “If the supernova didn’t destroy it—”
“Supernova?” Corran asked. “What supernova?”
“The one that created the Utegetu Nebula,” Leia clarified. There were many different kinds of nebulae, and most of them did not result from supernova explosions. “The Utegetu is a shell nebula.”
“I see,” Corran said.
“The blast would have destroyed all life on every planet within a dozen parsecs,” Cilghal continued. “But my assistant’s calculations suggest that the nebula is only a thousand standard years old.”
“And you think the nanotech survived to restore Woteba and the other worlds,” Leia surmised.
“Yes. Otherwise, the planets would still be dead.” Cilghal glanced at something out of view, then said, “We calculate that it would have taken only a year or two for the first pockets of soil to become fertile again, and there would have been plenty of seeds trapped where the blast radiation wouldn’t destroy them.”
“But the animals wouldn’t have lasted,” Mara said. “They would have starved within months.”
Cilghal nodded. “And that is how you end up with a cluster of empty paradise worlds.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of Raynar believing all this?” Corran asked.
“We’ll certainly do our best to persuade him,” Leia said. “But I suspect the Dark Nest will convince him that we’re lying.”
“What do you two think?” Mara asked Jaina and Zekk.
They were silent for a moment; then they reluctantly shook their heads.
“Unu has already put the Colony’s plans in motion,” Zekk said.
Jaina added, “It will be easier to believe the Dark Nest.”
“Then we’re back to where we started,” Leia said. “Recover Han and Luke, then hope we can find the Dark Nest—and take it out this time.”
When no one voiced an objection, Corran asked, “What about our backup plan? I just don’t see assassinating Raynar as an option.”
The discussion descended into an uncomfortable silence as they all considered their own interpretation of what it meant to be a Jedi. Not so long ago, during the war against the Yuuzhan Vong, they would not have hesitated to do whatever was necessary to safeguard the order and the Galactic Alliance. But Luke had been growing increasingly uncomfortable with that attitude, and over the last year he had quietly been encouraging Jedi Knights and Masters alike to contemplate just where the balance lay between good intention and wrong action.
Corran Horn, as usual in matters of conscience, came to his answer more quickly than most. “War is one thing, but taking out Raynar is murder.”
“Maybe it’s just because my husband is out there, but it seems more like self-defense to me,” Mara said. “It feels like the Dark Nest is coming after us.”
“It is more than a feeling,” Saba said. “First there are the piratez and the black membrosia, then they lure Master Skywalker to Woteba, and now they are establishing Coloniez along the Chisz border. Who knowz what is next? They have been hunting us for a long time, and we have been asleep under our rockz.”
“We’ve certainly given them the initiative,” Kenth agreed. “And we need to win it back now. If that means taking Raynar out, so be it. Clearly, he intends to use Han and Master Skywalker as hostages, and that makes him a legitimate target.”
“Even if he’s under the Dark Nest’s control?” Corran countered. “We can’t be sure that he’s responsible for his own actions.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kyp said. “You guys are really overthinking this. It’s simple: Raynar is a Jedi, and now he’s becoming a threat to the galaxy. He’s our responsibility, and we have to stop him. How we do that matters a lot less than whether we still can.”
The uncomfortable silence returned to the participants, and the eyes in all of the holograms vanished from sight as the Jedi on the other end stared at their respective floors.
Finally, Jaina and Zekk clicked several times in the back of their throats, then looked up and nodded.
“Master Durron is right,” Jaina said.
“Raynar is our responsibility,” Zekk added. “The Jedi must do whatever it takes to stop him.”
NINE
A gentle Woteban breeze was wafting across the bog, cool and damp and filled with acrid wisps of the peat smoke rising from the chimneys of the nearest Saras tunnel-house. Close by, the serpentine skeletons of ten more structures were beginning to take shape beneath the bustling anarchy of Killik construction crews. A kilometer beyond, at the far edge of the nest expansion, more insects were moving hamogoni pilings off a steady stream of lumber sleds.
“Oh, boy,” Luke said, eyeing all the new construction. “This is bad.”
“Only if there are contaminants,” Han said. “If there aren’t any, it might be okay.”
Their Saras escort, a chest-high worker that had been waiting to meet the logging sled on which they had hitched a ride back to the nest, thrummed a short question.
“Saras wishes to know what might be okay,” C-3PO informed them. “And why you are so worried about contaminants.”
“Bur ru ub br urrb,” the insect added. “Rrrrr uu uu bub.”
“Oh, dear,” C-3PO said. “Saras says the nest has a perfectly sound method of disposing of toxins—it pumps them into the bog!”
“Great,” Han growled. He turned to Luke. “We gotta get off this sponge before we start glowing or something.”
“Let’s talk to Raynar,” Luke said. “Maybe once the Killiks understand what’s happening, he’ll consider our promise kept.”
“Urru buur rbur.” Their escort waited as an empty lumber sled glided past and disappeared down a winding boulevard into Saras nest proper, then started toward the completed building. “Ubu ruru buub.”
“Raynar Thul is dead,” C-3PO translated. “But UnuThul is waiting for us in the replica factory.”
“Sounds like he’s already heard part of it,” Han said. “I just hope he doesn’t blast the messenger when he hears the rest.”
Luke led the others after the escort, through a large iris membrane into the throat of a twining, hangar-sized tunnel-house so filled with smoke and manufacturing fumes that the iridescent walls were barely visible. Along one wall stood a long row of peat-fired furnaces, serviced by hundreds of bustling Killiks. The middle of the chamber was filled with steaming vats, also surrounded by hundreds of Killiks. Along the far wall ran a serpentine workbench, flanked on each side by a seemingly endless Killik production line.
Luke stopped a few paces inside the door. Han let out a complaining cough, then leaned close.
“Better make this fast,” he whispered. “It’s a wonder this place hasn’t been Fizzed already.”
Luke did not reply, for Raynar had emerged from the swarm along the workbench and was coming toward them with a pair of spinglass sculptures in his hands. As usual, he was followed by the teeming Unu entourage. He stopped five paces away and stared at them expectantly, as though he assumed they would cross the remaining distance to him.
When they did not, there was a moment of tense silence.
Finally, Han demanded, “Wh
at’s so important you couldn’t let us hit the refresher first?” He pulled at his dirty tunic. “We’re kind of ripe.”
Raynar’s scarred face seemed to harden. “We were worried you might be difficult to find later—if, for instance, you decided to get off this sponge before you ‘started glowing or something.’ ”
Luke dipped his head in acknowledgment. “You’ve been keeping tabs on us through our escort,” he said. “We thought as much. So you must also know we have no intention of leaving until you consider our promise kept.”
“I have heard.” Raynar’s rigid lips pressed into an awkward smirk; then he turned to Han. “We apologize if our summons seemed abrupt, but we wished to thank you and Master Skywalker for discovering the star amber cheats. Saras did not realize they were taking something so valuable.”
Raynar closed the last of the distance separating them, and Luke saw that the sculptures in his hands were spinglass replicas of Millennium Falcon and a T-65 X-wing.
Raynar turned to Luke first and presented him with the X-wing. “Unu wanted you to be the first to have one of these. It is an exact copy of the fighter you were flying when you destroyed the original Death Star.”
More than a little stunned by the gesture, Luke accepted the sculpture with genuine gratitude. The piece was so intricately executed that Luke could identify both R2-D2 and the loose stabilizers the droid had been struggling to repair as he began the final assault run.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll treasure it.”
“It’s the first of a limited run commissioned by one of our business partners in the Galactic Alliance,” Raynar said proudly. “Turn it over. It’s numbered and signed by the artist.”
Luke did as Raynar asked. Etched into the bottom was SARAS: 1/1,000,000,000. SECOND MISTAKE ENTERPRISES.
Luke nodded politely, then turned it back over. “I’m sure the line will be a great success.”
“We think so, too,” Raynar said. He turned to Han and gave him the replica of Millennium Falcon. “Also a first run.”
“Thanks. Real nice.” Han turned it over and inspected the artist’s signature. “Second Mistake Enterprises?” He frowned, then looked back to Raynar. “Your partners wouldn’t happen to be three Squibs named Sligh, Grees, and Emala?”
