This moved him to his core.
He had to have it.
“It is … exquisite,” breathed Taalon. “Is it a statue?”
Pleased at his response, Leeha smiled. “No, sir. It is a natural formation. It’s a type of glass.”
He turned his head sharply to look at her, but she was serious. Glass … glass more lovely, more dramatic, than any piece he had ever owned. Ever seen constructed for any building in Tahv.
“How is this possible? What is it?”
“It is called the Fountain of the Hutt Ancients. The planet produces deep in its core a substance called wintrium. Back before recorded time—and that’s a long time here, sir, tens of thousands of years—there was some kind of fissure in the planet’s crust. The wintrium erupted. There was a chemical change when it came into contact with the air. Rather like water freezing instantly, except it was transformed into glass rather than ice.”
If it had been a statue, Taalon mused, he would have abducted the artist on the spot and forced him or her to create a piece of equal or superior beauty for Taalon’s private collection. But as it was a natural formation …
“I imagine this Fountain is highly regarded among the Klatooinians?”
“Oh, definitely. It’s a sacred object to them. Time is very important to their mind-set and culture,” Leeha continued, warming to the subject. Clearly, she’d done a lot of research before bringing the Fountain to her captain’s attention. “The wintrium continues to harden through the centuries, becoming stronger instead of more fragile.”
Interesting, thought Taalon. A material that grows stronger over time. Weapons … that grow stronger over time …
He pulled thoughtfully on his neatly trimmed goatee, his eyes never leaving the image of the Fountain as Leeha spoke.
“The Klatooinians, too, believe they grow stronger over time. One of the reasons they agreed to become servants of the Hutts twenty-five thousand years ago was because the Hutts promised to always keep the Fountain safe.”
He shot her a quick glance. “Hutts? As in the name of the Fountain Hutts?”
“Well, yes, although it was originally just called the Fountain of the Ancients.”
“What are Hutts?”
Leeha didn’t miss a beat. She leaned over, not bothering to ask his permission a second time—he liked that, it showed initiative and confidence—and called up another image. This was of a large wormlike creature, with a large head, grinning mouth, and two small arm-like appendages. It was most certainly not beautiful.
“Hutts can live to be a thousand years old, which was why when they descended upon Klatooine they were revered as being connected to the mythological ancients. The Hutts are intelligent, self-serving, and manipulative, and they took advantage of the Klatooinian belief that they were akin to gods. They tricked the Klatooinians into signing over their younglings to be sent to work for the Hutts wherever they saw fit. In dangerous mines, as tradespeople, as soldiers in an army—for whatever the Hutts needed, they used the Klatooinians.”
Ugly they might be, but Taalon felt a new respect for the giant worm things.
“For how long?”
Leeha smiled openly. “Forever.”
“My, my. I think we can learn a thing or two from these Hutts.”
“The Tribe is always learning, always improving itself, in preparation for our eventual control of the galaxy,” Leeha said, very correctly. Smart girl, Leeha. She’d advance far.
He changed the picture back to the Fountain and regarded it for a long moment.
“Are nonnatives permitted to approach it?”
“Oh yes, sir. It’s apparently something of a tourist attraction. There are a few rules, though. Because the Klatooinians look at it as sacred, and frozen in time, they don’t want anyone bringing anything technological within a one-kilometer radius. They would find that terribly offensive.”
“I see. Frankly, I had not intended that any of us land on the planet’s surface while waiting for Master Skywalker’s little friend,” Taalon said. “However, I find I am feeling a need to visit this exquisite, unique natural phenomenon. I think it will do my soul good to gaze upon its beauty with my own eyes.”
Leeha’s smile widened, making her lovely Keshiri features even more attractive.
“Oh yes, sir, I think that would be an excellent idea.”
Taalon grinned.
ABOARD THE JADE SHADOW
There it was again, the strange, but not altogether unpleasant feeling as if he were being watched. Luke turned away from the control panel and glanced around, then closed his eyes and looked with other senses.
No, he was not alone. In a way, he would never be alone, as long as he could touch the Force. All living things created it, and even those who were no longer among the living contributed. Mara would always be there, at least in part. And he would be able to see her always whenever he looked at Ben.
Luke kept his eyes closed and felt the faintest, almost imaginary brush of a feminine touch over his cheek, and sighed audibly.
I miss you, he thought.
I miss you, too. But we will be together.
One day, he agreed. A soft chime from the communications array caused him to open his eyes, and he grinned when he saw who was calling. He tapped the controls and a miniature version of a golden droid appeared. He looked extremely pleased, if droids could look pleased, and See-Threepio definitely managed it.
“Master Luke!” The protocol droid was all but bouncing in his delight. “What an unexpected pleasure. I am so very flattered you were interested in consulting me. I do not get very many messages myself, you know. Usually I am relegated to the task of conveying the identity of the caller when Master Han and Mistress Leia are contacted. This is quite a treat.”
Luke found himself smiling. “Hi, Threepio. I’ve missed you.”
“Oh, goodness, we have missed you, too, Master Luke. How may I be of assistance?”
“I need some help, and you’re the droid to provide it,” Luke replied, tapping the controls. “I’m transmitting a conversation. I need you to translate it.”
“Oh! As you know, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication.”
“Yes, I know. But not this one.”
“Oh? Are you certain?”
“Very certain. It’s from a completely unknown world. I don’t know the planet, don’t know the name of the language, or the people who created it. I need you to cross-reference it as best you can and translate it for me as soon as possible.”
Technically, he supposed the argument could be made that he was in violation of the terms of the agreement he had made with Daala. Some would say that in contacting Leia’s droid, he was initiating a request for information from Jedi sources. But Threepio also belonged to Han, and he was no Jedi. He’d ducked the issue entirely by contacting the droid directly. It made good legal sense, and also, it made Threepio feel good.
“Oooh. A challenge! I shall get to it immediately, Master Luke. How delightful to feel truly useful again. It does become rather tiresome to be relegated to cooking, cleaning, and answering comms. One yearns to do what one was designed for.”
“I know you’ll do your best. Let me know when you’ve got something.”
“The very nanosecond,” Threepio assured him. Luke had no doubt that Threepio meant it literally.
“Talk to you then,” he said.
“Take good care of yourself, Master Luke. And of Master Ben as well.”
Luke clicked off and leaned back in the chair, and wondered what sort of mischief his teenage son and the teenage Sith girl had gotten themselves into.
TREEMA, CAPITAL OF KLATOOINE
DYON STAD, WHO HAD SERVED AS A GUIDE FOR HAN, LEIA, AND ALLANA during their time on Dathomir, was a pleasant, cheerful fellow who seemed to harbor no resentment at all toward Luke, Ben, or even Vestara for their superior ability to use the Force. Ben had taken an instant liking to him. His time on Dathomir had caused him to be a lot more relaxed about
things than Luke was, and he was closer to Ben’s age than anyone in his immediate family.
So Ben was rather pleased that if he had to have an “escort” because his dad didn’t trust him to shepherd Vestara properly on his own, it was Dyon rather than Luke. Ben had traveled enough and seen enough that Treema, the capital of this arid world, was not all that impressive to him. No doubt it showcased the finest Klatooine had to offer, but truth be told, that wasn’t much. At least, not from what he had been able to glean as the Jade Shadow had come in for docking.
Luke had told Ben that the Klatooinian species was an ancient one, and Treema was the oldest city that had not fallen into ruins, most likely because of its proximity to the Fountain of Hutt Ancients. The city seemed to like to build on top of itself, and the end result was something that looked to Ben’s eye like an extremely tall stack of hotcakes. Ships were permitted to dock in the center of each level. The most expensive docking bays were on the top level, with the price falling the closer one was willing to be to the ground. The reasoning was simple: the upper levels offered better protection from sandstorms, greater security, and simply were newer. Luke and Ben had opted for something in the mid range, on Level 34.
As Ben, Vestara, and Dyon emerged from the Shadow and walked toward the turbolifts, Ben said, “So … what are your orders?”
Dyon grinned cheerily down at the two adolescents. “To keep you two in my sight and out of trouble.”
Vestara looked at him intently. “Did Master Luke really instruct you to say that?”
“No,” Dyon said, his grin widening. “He just said to keep an eye on you two.”
“So, no stipulations on where we can go or what we can do?” Ben pressed.
Dyon shrugged, glancing down at the datapad in his hand. “I think as long as we get everything on this list and return with all our limbs intact, we’re pretty free to do whatever we like.”
Ben gave Vestara a quick grin, and her own curved in an answering, if slightly sardonic, return smile.
Next to each of the turbolifts were two large maps. One identified the main purpose of each level, the other was a map of Level 34. Ben suspected they’d find something identical on each level. Vestara paused and began analyzing the main map.
Ben rolled his eyes. “Let’s just jump into the turbolift, pick a floor, and be surprised.”
She frowned. “That is not very efficient.” She glanced at Dyon for support. “Surely you agree. Your profession is tracking things down.”
Dyon nodded. “It is,” he agreed. “But we’ve got plenty of time to explore. And it’s by exploring that you learn the lay of the land.”
During the height of the Hutt control in the galaxy, this place must have been impressive. While Klatooine had not fallen to the Yuuzhan Vong, the war had crippled their masters the Hutts, and as such the world clearly did not receive the attention or the traffic it once had. The docking bays on Level 34 were adequate, but not much more, and a good two decades out of date. The turbolifts that connected the levels varied from efficient to erratic to let’s-not-get-on-this-one.
Their exploration took them to random places all over the city. Some levels were living areas, again with the most expensive and attractive dwellings near the top levels, and what essentially amounted to hovels down at ground level, and in some cases lower than that. Others were devoted to trade: repair shops, stores, markets, and so on. Still others seemed to exclusively feature restaurants and taverns, and more were dedicated to recreation. These areas appeared to be the hardest hit, with some levels actually closed off, their extravagant luxuries having no takers.
The turbolift opened on one level that was dimly lit, loud with voices and music, and thick with smoke. For a second Ben thought something was on fire, but then he realized it was simply the haze floating out from one of the establishments.
Vestara coughed, but moved forward. Dyon gently took her arm. “I don’t think Luke would be happy if I let you two poke around this level too much,” he said.
Ben extended his senses in the Force, was able to figure out the nature of some of the “entertainment” being offered in the various places, and glanced at Vestara. She hadn’t said much about her homeworld, but one thing was sure. Even though she was a Sith, and had by her own admission killed in cold blood, there was an innocence about her that denoted a sheltered life in many respects. He somehow thought she wouldn’t quite be prepared for some of the things she would see if she went into these seedy places.
Then again, she no doubt sensed, as he did, that the emotions of the beings within ran to the darker side of the Force. The proprietors of these taverns, gambling houses, and worse fed on greed, fear, despair, and loneliness. That had to execute a powerful pull for a Sith apprentice. His heart sank a little at the expression on her beautiful face, eager and curious. She was disappointed at Dyon’s words, but nodded and stepped back into the turbolift.
“Let’s see what’s on the ground level,” Dyon said. If he had noticed Vestara’s response to the pull of the dark side present on this floor, he gave no indication.
When the turbolift doors hissed open, Ben almost gaped. “Did we just step into a circus?” he asked, looking around at the noise, bustle, and colors, and inhaling a staggering variety of smells, not all of which were pleasant.
“I think it’s an open-air market,” Dyon said as they stepped forward into a crowd of beings. Ben’s feet encountered not duracrete, but hard packed soil. It actually made sense—produce and other market wares would come by air and by land. Judging from the smell, many of the natives of this world still relied upon living transport.
Like most originally arid worlds that still sported a fairly generous populace, Klatooine had learned to wrest sufficient moisture from the soil by means of technology in order to grow a decent amount of crops. It was cheaper, in the long run, to invest in droids, irrigation technology, and up-to-date vaporators and mechanics to take care of them than it was to import food. Especially, Ben mused, if you had been under the thumb of the Hutts for almost forever. He took a second to recall Hutt anatomy and then let it go, content with Yes, Hutts did have thumbs.
So it was that in the shaded marketplace, with artificially moist, cool air blowing about them and a few musicians standing about playing strangely complicated-looking instruments with cases looking sadly empty of credcoins, he, Vestara, and Dyon found themselves looking at a pretty impressive amount of fruits, vegetables, nuts, grains, and meats.
He liked to watch Vestara when she encountered new things, and this was much more to his liking than her curiosity about the goings-on occurring on Level 7. You like to watch Vestara whatever she’s doing, a little voice inside his head spoke up, but he pushed it down. For him, this was another market like dozens he had seen before. But while Vestara refused to say how many new worlds she had seen or species she had encountered, Ben could tell by her reactions that she was nowhere near as well versed with such a variety of beings and cultures as he was.
She was apparently insatiably curious, wanting to look at, sniff, touch, and if possible, taste everything. She asked question after question, listening intently to the answer, learning, always learning. Dyon’s interest seemed piqued by the marketplace, and he was engrossed in glancing at the list Luke had given them and stocking up on a variety of intriguing-looking foodstuffs. As a result, Ben and Vestara found themselves several stalls away from the Force-using tracker. Ben didn’t mind at all. He glanced over to where Dyon was animatedly chatting with a red-cheeked, elderly human female about the contents of an aquarium, nodded to himself, and returned his attention to Vestara.
“They cannot be grown anywhere else, you say?” Vestara was asking, her musical voice intense, her brown eyes fastened intently upon a young male Klatooinian. Despite her initial repugnance of the species, Vestara had no problem looking the other being in the eye, or being courteous.
“No, nowhere else in the galaxy,” the young male was replying. Vestara nodded, then bent her head ov
er the lumpy purple fruit currently under discussion. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed delicately, running a thumb over its surface. The young Klatooinian eyed her appreciatively as she did so. Ben suspected that if she had noticed the youth ogling her so openly, she might have wiped the smirk off with her bare hands. Luke had forbidden the Sith apprentice to take her lightsaber on the visit with her.
Ben, for an instant, wanted to use his own lightsaber for just such a purpose, but he sighed and let the impulse go.
He contented himself with stepping close to Vestara, reaching out a finger to run along the skin of the fruit she held as she had, though in actuality the thing held no interest for him at all. A meter or two away, the owner of the booth, possibly the youth’s father, gave them a quick smile before returning to weighing and marking prices on bags of produce.
“Why is that?” Vestara said so firmly that the question almost sounded like a demand.
“No one knows for sure,” the youth said. “No lab has been able to replicate quite the same conditions that are found here. Could be traces of wintrium in the soil, but we’re not certain. If you’re hungry, take it. Free sample.”
Vestara’s always-almost smile widened into a real one. “Thank you,” she said. “And … how do I eat it?”
The boy chuckled slightly, took the fruit from her, and peeled it quickly with a knife. “There you go.”
The fruit was amber in the center and dripping juice. Vestara took a healthy bite of the succulent flesh and wiped as the liquid dribbled down her chin.
“My son Kelkad is correct,” the grocer said, moving forward to join the discussion. “The general conclusion is that the wintrium in the soil enables the pak’pah to grow and reach that unique sweetness. Wintrium is found nowhere else in the galaxy but on our humble world.”
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