minerals and energy from otherwise unusable roots and stems.
The study of plants and their uses was the lifework of most
Ithorians, and the greatest of the students became priests who
guided others, prohibiting the people from harvesting plants that
could think or feel. Only those plants that slept, those that were
not self-aware, could be harvested, and then only under a rigid
law For every plant that was destroyed in the harvest, two must
be planted to replace it. This was the Ithorian Law of Life.
As a High Priest, Nadon had spent decades in the service of
life, until Captain Alima came seeking excuses to board the
Tafanda Bay, then demanded to know the secrets of Ithorian
technology. At first Nadon had refused to reveal his secrets,
until Captain Alima trained his Star Destroyer's blasters on the
sentient forests of Cathor Hills. Thousands of the Bafforr died,
trees that had been Nadon's teachers and friends in his youth.
Neither the trees nor the Ithorians had the weapons to fight the
Empire.
When the forest was destroyed, Captain Alima had turned his
weapons on the Tafanda Bay and ordered Nadon to surrender. In a
last-ditch effort to save his own people, Nadon had no choice but
to relinquish the secrets of Ithorian technology to Alima.
As punishment for revealing the Ithorian agricultural
ceremonies, Nadon could still hear the elders' judgment ringing in
his ears, "We banish you from Ithor and from our mother jungles.
Go and consider your evil actions in solitude."
Home. Nadon found himself both envying Muftak and feeling
gratitude that perhaps the hairy creature would find joy.
Nadon was interrupted from his reveries by a comlink call on
his personal channel.
"Nadon," Muftak said over audio, "I just sold your name to this
Lieutenant Alima. You had better get home to meet him. Be careful,
my old friend."
"Thank you," Nadon said.
When Momaw Nadon reached Mos Eisley, his house was quiet. With
the suns down, many of the townspeople were on the streets,
enjoying the cool evening. Out across the Dune Sea, winds raced
over the sand, raising clouds of dust. Static discharges in the
dust clouds made the night growl with the sound of distant dry
thunder.
Nadon unlocked his door, checking the doorjamb for any sign
that someone might have forced their way in before him. The air in
his house was rich with the smell of water, and dreeka fish
chirped among the reeds of the pond in his living room. Everywhere
in the dome, creepers climbed the pourstone walls toward the
skylights. Small trees shivered under the weight of a breeze
produced by fans.
Nadon made his way over a paved trail into one of his many side
domes, to a small grove of Bafforr trees that glowed pale blue in
the starlight under black leaves. Nadon knelt before them and
wrapped his long leathery gray fingers around the trunk of one
tree. The bark was smoother than glass.
"My friends," Nadon whispered. "Our enemy Captain Alima is
coming. I do not know how to admit this, but I wish to kill him."
The bark hummed under his touch, and a pure and holy feeling
enervated him, as if light entered his every pore. The soothing
mind-touch of the sentient trees nearly overwhelmed him with its
beauty, but the trees were displeased by his confession. Above
him, the black leaves trembled, hissing the words, "Noooo. We
forbid it."
"He slew the Bafforr of Cathor Hills," Nadon said. "He is a
murderer. And he killed your brothers so that he could gain
greater prestige among evil men. His every intent was impure."
"You are a priest of Ithor," the woods whispered. "You have
vowed to honor the Law of Life. You cannot slay him."
"But he killed your kin," Nadon reasoned. He did not know if
the Bafforr understood him. Each tree in itself had limited
intelligence, but through their intertwining roots they were
connected and thus formed a group intelligence. A large forest
grew wiser in lore than any other being, but these few trees were
not, a great forest. Still, Nadon had not come for their counsel,
only for their permission.
"Our kin would have died in time," the Bafforr reasoned. "Alima
only hurried their end."
"Just as I wish to hurry Alima's end," Nadon said.
"You are not like Alima." The trees sharpened the focus of
their mind-touch, and Nadon gasped at the beauty he felt as rivers
of light cascaded through him. The profound peace that settled in
his bones was meant both as a reward and a warning. While he
basked in the glow, he dreaded the moment when he would have to
leave the sacred grove and return to the mundane world. "If you
break the Law of Life," the Bafforr said, "we will no longer be
able to tolerate your touch."
"I would not kill him myself," Momaw Nadon pleaded. "I would
command the vesuvague tree to strangle him, or I would have the
alleth consume him or the arool poison him."
"All of these are lower life forms than us," the Bafforr said,
"and they respond to your command as if they were common weapons.
But once again, we warn you, you cannot break the Law of Life."
The mind-touch of the Bafforr withdrew abruptly, and Nadon
choked out a sob as he was suddenly excluded from the group mind.
He fell to his face and began to weep.
"Fancy meeting you here," an unfamiliar voice said. Momaw Nadon
turned.
Beneath a glow globe that shone like a moon stood an aging
human in an Imperial uniform. Emerald-winged moths fluttered about
the globe, and for a moment the human eyed their bright green
wings.
Alima's face was fatter than when Nadon had last seen him, and
his voice had grown hoarser with age. His cheeks had sagged and
his hair was graying, but Nadon recognized him. He would have
recognized that face anywhere. "I see you are still a priest,
crying over your sacred trees," Alima said. He waved a blaster
toward the grove.
"And I see that you are still a servant of evil," Nadon said,
"though somewhat fallen in rank."
Alima chuckled. "Believe me, my old friend," he countered, "my
fall from grace was carefully orchestrated. Only a fool would want
to be captain of Lord Vader's flagship The mortality rate is
phenomenal. Still, Vader finds uses for me even as a lowly
lieutenant - which is why I'm here. So, tell me - enemy of the
Empire - where the droids are. I paid good money to learn the name
of one who was said to be harboring them."
"Then you wasted your money," Nadon retorted, hoping that
Muftak had extorted plenty. "I don't know the location of any
droid."
"But you are an enemy of the Empire, serving the Rebellion,"
Alima whispered dangerously. "I'm sure of it!"
"I know nothing about any droids," Nadon answered softly. He
checked Alima's location. The warrior stood close to an arool
cactus. Nadon could command it to strike, but in order to get
<
br /> within range of its stinging spines, Alima would have to move a
couple of steps farther down the path.
Nadon got up from die forest floor, stepped onto the path, and
backed away from Alima, hoping to lure him a meter.
Alima followed Nadon's eyes, glanced at the arool. "Do you
really think I'm so stupid as to walk into your traps, Priest?"
Alima asked.
Alima raised his blaster and pointed it at Nadon, then abruptly
swiveled and fired into the grove of blue-glowing Bafforr. A tree
exploded into flame, its trunk splitting under the impact. Black
leaves rusded and waves of pain rippled from the woods, battering
Nadon's senses as if they were mighty fists.
"You will devote all of your resources to finding those
droids," Alima said. "Look to your friends within the Rebellion.
If you do not have a location on the droids by tomorrow evening, I
will sew your eyes open and make you watch as I take a vibroblade
and slice each limb off your precious Bafforr trees, one at a
time. Then I'll drop a thermal detonator in your living room and
fry the rest of your damned vegetable friends. Believe me, if your
family were here or if I thought there was anything that you loved
more in life, I would gladly destroy it, too - "
"I'll kill you - " Momaw Nadon shouted, his stereophonic voice
ringing through the dome surprisingly loud.
"You?" Alima asked. "If I thought you had it in you, I'd have
brought a squadron of men. No, you'll cave in to my demands, just
as you have in the past!"
Alima turned and walked away, unconcernedly, and Nadon could do
nothing but watch helplessly even though rage burned within him.
When Alima had left, Nadon went to his grove to see if he could
save the wounded Bafforr, but the pale blue sheen of its glasslike
trunk was already turning black in death.
He reached out for the trees with his mind. Nadon fell to his
knees in the mossy turf under the dark leaves and pleaded, "Now?
Now may I kill him?"
The leaves of the living Bafforr trees circling him rustled
dimly in response. "What? What happened? Who touches us?"
Momaw Nadon listened to the trees' voices. Their number had
been reduced from seven trees down to six- just below the number
needed for the grove to achieve true sentience. He could not tell
how much they might understand. "Momaw Nadon, a friend, touches
you. Our enemy killed a member of your grove. I wish to punish him
for his act."
"We understand. You cannot break the Law of Life," the Bafforr
whispered with finality. "We forbid it."
Nadon backed away without closing his eyes in the traditional
sign of acceptance. Perhaps the Bafforr were willing to die for
their principles, but Nadon could not sit by quietly and let them.
He considered his options. He amid search for the droids, give
in to Captain Alima's demands.
The thought was so revolting that it caused Nadon physical
pain, made his eyes feel gritty and itch. Nadon rubbed his
forehead between his eyes with his long thin fingers, physically
stimulating a pleasure-inducing gland along the ridge of his brow
so that he could think clearly again.
If the Empire wanted those two droids so badly, then it was
imperative that the Empire not get them.
No, Nadon had to fight. Lieutenant Alima was a dangerous man-as
vicious as they come. He would leave a trail of charred and
mutilated victims behind in his search for the droids, and sooner
or later, someone would tell him what he wanted to know.
As much as Nadon detested violence, he knew that Alima was a
monster, someone who must be destroyed. It would be a small loss
to the Empire, an ineffectual blow, but Alima represented a
constant, undeniable threat to the Rebel Alliance.
Just as importantly, by letting Alima live, Nadon would be
allowing the man to kill more plants, more people. Nadon couldn't
allow Alima to live.
In another room a sprinkler system softly hissed to life, and
Nadon took that as a signal to leave. He checked his utility belt
for some credit chips, then went out the front door.
Down the street, he spotted three stormtroopers on guard,
standing together talking. They didn't hide the fact that they
were watching his house. Nadon had to walk past them. The flashing
red lights on their blaster rifles testified that the rifles were
set to kill. As Nadon passed, one of the stormtroopers peeled away
and followed at a discreet distance.
The streets were crowded now that full night had hit and the
blistering temperature had fallen to a comfortable level. Nadon
passed through the markets and had no trouble losing the
stormtrooper.
Nadon made his way to Kayson's Weapons Shop. The gruff human
who owned the shop had been in business forever, but Nadon had
never set foot on the premises. It took less than five minutes to
buy a heavy blaster and a holster that could be concealed under
Nadon's cloak, then the Ithorian was back out the door.
He wandered the streets aimlessly for nearly an hour, without
any kind of plan. He simply hoped to spot Lieutenant Alima, pull
his blaster, and shoot the human. Nadon knew that nothing much
would be accomplished by such an action. He would kill the human,
but in the end he would forfeit his own life. The precious Bafforr
trees in his home would be uprooted by whoever took over his
house, and one way or another he would never be able to speak widi
them again. But at least they would not be tortured by the likes
of Alima.
He set the blaster to kill, then searched the streets until he
heard the scream of fire sirens in his own neighborhood. For a
moment he was struck with horror, fearing that Lieutenant Alima
had already come to burn his house, but as he ran up the streets,
Nadon saw that some trader's home was a roaring blaze.
Firelight reflected from the column of smoke, lighting the
streets and alleys in a dull red.
From every home, people were running toward the house with foam
canisters. Water was so precious on Tatooine that the authorities
would probably let the house burn rather than waste the water used
in the foam extinguishers, but if the hapless owner of the home
was in the vicinity, he might purchase enough canisters - at
inflated prices - to rescue his valuables.
From the corner of his eye, on a side street, Nadon glimpsed
the dark uniform of an Imperial officer with its billed cap. He
turned just in time to recognize Lieutenant Alima walking
steadfastly up the hill toward the fire.
Nadon rushed up the street parallel to Alima's path, then
turned down the next alley, running toward Alima. He pulled out
his blaster, fumbled with it momentarily. The gun was not made to
accommodate an Ithorian's extraordinarily long, thin fingers, and
Nadon could hardly get his finger into the trigger guard. He found
that his hearts were racing, thumping wildly in his chest like a
pair of Jawas in
a struggle.
Nadon huddled against a wall, and checked the side streets in
three directions. He could not see anyone. Good. There would be no
witnesses.
Alima walked into the open not a meter away, and Nadon shouted
his name, pulled the blaster up level to Alima's face.
Alima turned and looked at the Ithorian calmly, glanced at the
blaster.
"Come here, into the alley!" Nadon commanded. His mind was
racing, and he could not think what to do. He thought of pulling
the trigger, but he wanted to talk first, to tell Alima why he
felt he had to do this. Perhaps, Nadon thought, he will even
repent. Perhaps he will turn away from the Empire. Nadon's legs
cramped, aching with the desire to run, his species' preferred
response for coping with danger.
Alima laughed. "You can't kill me with a blaster set to Stun,"
he said. Nadon knew he had set the blaster to Kill, but feared
that perhaps it had been knocked off the setting by accident.
Nadon glanced down in horror at the indicator lights on the
blaster, saw the red flashing lights of the Kill setting. Just as
Nadon realized his mistake, Alima dodged from Nadon's line of fire
and pulled his own blaster.
A blue bolt tore through the darkness, slamming Nadon between
his stomachs, knocking the big Ithorian into the stone wall at his
back. For a moment, it seemed that a white sun blazed before his
eyes, and then Nadon found himself lying on the ground in a dark
alley, and someone was kicking his right eyestalk. Blood oozed
from the wound. Nadon reached up with his long arms, trying to
cover his eyestalks, and he moaned loudly.
His attacker stopped kicking, apparently more from being winded
than from any desire to offer mercy. "You pacifist species are so
pathetic in battle," Alima said, standing over Nadon, panting.
"You're lucky that my blaster was set to Stun!"
Nadon groaned, and Alima waved two blasters in his face. "Find
me those droids! You have until sunset tomorrow!" He pointed his
blaster between Nadon's eyes and pulled the trigger again.
Nadon woke with a throbbing ache in his eyestalks. It was
nearly dawn, and a pale light washed through Mos Eisley, turning
the pourstone buildings to golden domes. Nadon wiped the blood
from his face with his cloak, then managed to crawl to his knees.
He felt as if he stood in a whirling fog that threatened to sweep
Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina Page 16
