by Troy Denning
“A surprise?” C-3PO said, missing the obvious as only he could. “What sort of surprise?”
“You did notice all those S and K transports hanging out in the entrance tunnel?” Han asked.
“Of course,” C-3PO said. “All one hundred twenty-seven of them.”
Han whistled. He had not thought it was so many. “Okay, let’s say each one of those tubs can transport three hundred bugs…that’s close to forty thousand troops, counting these ships.”
“A full division,” Leia said. “That’s going to be a very nasty surprise for the Chiss—especially if the Killiks strike someplace they’re not expecting.”
“Oh, dear,” C-3PO said. “In that case, perhaps we should return to our own territory and send a messenger to warn Commander Fel.”
“Not a chance,” Han said, rising. “The Chiss are on their own—at least until we get our daughter back.”
He led the way back to the aft hold, where Meewalh and Cakhmaim were waiting with the hoods of their Ewok disguises tucked under their arms. The huge Magcannon Max that had once been stowed here was gone, now headed for a pirate base somewhere in the Galactic Alliance. If Lando’s engineers could be trusted, the weapon would blow itself apart the first time it was live-fired.
Han instructed the Noghri to put on their Ewok heads. After he and Leia checked their own disguises—Arkanian and Falleen—he turned to the cargo lift controls and was puzzled to find a pair of Fefze staring at him from the external monitors. The black, meter-high beetles were standing beneath the cargo lift, staring up into the vidcam, frantically waving their forward legs for the cargo lift to be lowered.
“What now?” Han demanded. He turned to C-3PO. “Didn’t Grees say his Flakax goons would be the ones meeting us?”
“I believe his precise words were ‘Tito and Yugi will be there to take care of you,’ ” C-3PO reported. “And he was pointing at the Flakax at the time.”
“So what do these two want?” Han asked.
Leia closed her eyes a moment, then said, “Let them in. I think we know them.”
“Know them? If I’d ever met a puker, I’d remember.” Han was referring to the Fefze habit of regurgitating food paste whenever they grew frightened. “You’re sure about this? I don’t want to spend the rest of the trip in a stinky—”
“Han, their presences are familiar.” Leia reached past him and depressed the lift control. “Let them in.”
The lift had barely touched down before the Fefze scrambled over the safety rail and began gesturing for it to be raised again. Han glanced at Leia uncertainly, then—when she nodded—brought the two insects up. The pair’s antennae had barely risen above floor level when one of them began jabbering in muffled Ewokese.
C-3PO shot something back in the same language, then turned to Han.
“You were quite justified in your reluctance to let them aboard, Captain Solo. I haven’t been spoken to quite so rudely since the last time we had dealings with that dreadful Ewok.”
“Ewok?” Han went over to the lift. “I think I’d rather have the bug.”
The Fefze jumped onto the deck of the hold, then reared up on its rear legs and began to flail its forelegs about haphazardly. A moment later, its head popped off and fell to the floor, revealing another head inside—this one black and furry, with large dark eyes and little round ears.
“Tarfang!” Leia exclaimed, coming to Han’s side. “What are you doing here?”
Tarfang began to chitter rapidly, waving his remaining Fefze legs excitedly.
“Oh, dear,” C-3PO said. “He says if he tells you, he will have to kill you.”
The Ewok added two more syllables.
“Your choice,” C-3PO translated.
“That’s okay,” Han said. The last time they had seen Tarfang, Admiral Bwua’tu had just offered him and Jae Juun positions as military intelligence affiliates. “We can guess.”
The second Fefze joined them and began to flail its arms around, as had Tarfang. Han reached over and twisted the head off, exposing a bug-eyed face with grayish, dewlapped cheeks.
“Juun!” Han slapped the Sullustan on the back of his costume. “I’m glad you’re still alive, old buddy—and a little surprised, too!”
“Yes, all of our missions are very dangerous,” Juun said, beaming. “Admiral Bwua’tu always sends Tarfang and me when the mission is likely to be fatal.”
“You certainly appear to be beating the odds,” Leia said. “How can we help?”
Tarfang pattered something impatient.
“He says they’re here to help us,” C-3PO translated.
“The Squibs have put a death mark on your heads,” Juun explained. “Over a thousand credits—each.”
“What?” Han scowled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Tarfang twattled a sharp reply.
“That’s hardly fair,” C-3PO replied. “It’s been nearly two decades since Captain Solo had a death mark on him. He has every right to be frightened.”
“I’m not scared,” Han said. “I just don’t believe it. We have a deal with the Squibs.”
“And they have a deal with Tito and Yugi,” Juun said. “Tito said we could eat your brains if we helped.”
“Did they say why the Squibs want us killed?” Leia asked.
Juun shook his head. “Only that it wouldn’t be much of a job, because you’d never see it coming.”
The Sullustan pulled his Fefze head back on, then turned toward Tarfang, who had noticed the two Noghri in their Ewok disguises and gone over to glare at them.
“Tarfang, let’s go,” Juun said. “The Flakax are already on their way.”
Instead of retrieving the head of his own disguise, Tarfang let out an angry yap and shoved Meewalh. She reacted instantly, dropping the Ewok to the deck with a foot sweep and landing atop him in a full straddle-lock that left him completely immobilized.
“Tarfang!” Juun snapped. “What are you doing? We have to leave before the stingers arrive.”
Tarfang burbled an angry reply, purposely spraying saliva into the face of Meewalh’s costume.
“I don’t care if it is an insult,” Juun replied. “We don’t have time for this. If we blow our cover, Admiral Pellaeon will never know where this division is going.”
Han’s brow shot up. “Pellaeon asked for this mission?”
“Uh, er, I’m really not at liberty to—”
“Yeah, sure,” Han said. “What I don’t get is why the GA’s Supreme Commander would be that interested in a bug division headed for Chiss space.”
“I do,” Leia said. “If Pellaeon can tell the Chiss where these Killiks are headed, he just might convince them that the Galactic Alliance isn’t siding with the Colony. It’s a long shot, but it’s probably the galaxy’s best chance to avoid a three-way war.”
Tarfang let out a long, fading gibber, and Cakhmaim moved over to threaten him with a stun stick—not that it was necessary, with Meewalh still straddling him.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll be killing anyone to me,” C-3PO said to the Ewok. “Princess Leia’s bodyguards appear to have you very well under control.”
“Relax,” Han said. “Your secret is safe with us—and you’ve got to get out of here before the trouble starts.”
He motioned for the Noghri to release Tarfang. Meewalh growled low in her throat but quietly slipped off the Ewok.
Tarfang’s eyes darted from one Noghri to the other, and it seemed to Han that he was trying to estimate his chances of launching a successful attack while still lying on the floor.
“Your devotion to operational security is admirable,” Leia said, using the Force to set the Ewok back on his feet. “But Captain Juun is right. We don’t pose a threat to your mission, and you do need to be going.”
Han picked up the head of Tarfang’s Fefze disguise and plopped in place before the Ewok could utter more threats, then shoved him onto the cargo lift with Juun.
“The next time we see Gilad, we’ll b
e sure to tell him how brave you two are,” Han said. “And thanks for the warning—we owe you.”
Cakhmaim activated the lift, and the two spies dropped slowly out of sight.
Han went to Leia’s side. “Now, that was a surprise.”
“What? That they lasted this long?” Leia asked. “Or that they’d risk their lives to help us?”
Han shook his head. “That they’re crazy enough to come back to this place in bug costumes.”
“You’re right.” Leia reached up adjusted Han’s wig. “That is crazy.”
Han frowned. “It’s different for us,” he said. “We’re good at this stuff.”
“Sure we are,” Leia said. “That’s why the Squibs are trying to kill us.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that,” Han said. “We had a deal.”
“Maybe they don’t like us having something on them,” Leia suggested.
Han shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. The Squibs know we can’t tell Lizil anything without exposing ourselves. Trying to take us out just adds to the chances we’ll be caught, and they know we’d try to settle the score by telling Raynar who helped me and Luke on Woteba.”
“Maybe they think they can kill us before we talk,” Leia said.
“They’re arrogant, not stupid,” Han countered. “Even taking us by surprise, there’s a big chance we’ll survive. Any way you look at it, attacking us here is a risk.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense,” Leia said. “They should be trying to cover for us, not kill us—at least while we’re still in the nest.”
“Right.” Han rubbed the synthetic skin of his disguise, then said, “So they’re trying to hide something—something big enough to risk angering Raynar.”
“Something to do with the black membrosia?” Leia asked.
Han thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I can only think of one way to find out.”
“Ask the Flakax?” Leia asked.
“May I point out that Flakax males are noted for being unhelpful and rude?” C-3PO asked. “I really don’t think they’re going to tell you much. Perhaps it would be better to leave before they arrive.”
“Too late.” Leia closed her eyes for a moment. “They’re here—and they feel very dangerous.”
Han went to the control panel and checked the external monitors. The two Flakax had arrived with four Verpine assistants. They were each bearing a crate labeled GREEN THAKITILLO or BROT-RIB or some other delicacy that the Squibs had pressured the Solos into carrying as part of the agreement to help them reach Jaina and Zekk in the war zone.
“Six of ’em,” he reported. “All carrying crates.”
“Their weapons are probably in the crates,” Leia said. “I’ll take care of those first.”
“Right,” Han said, motioning Cakhmaim and Meewalh to follow him. “We’ll get the drop on them from behind.”
C-3PO started to clunk away in the opposite direction. “I’m sure you don’t want me in the way. I’ll wait on the flight deck until you sound the all-clear.”
“Good idea,” Leia agreed. “Keep a watch on the external monitors.”
“And if it looks like any Killiks are coming this way, get out there and stall,” Han said. “We can’t have the bugs stumbling on this fight any more than the Squibs can. It could blow our chances of joining the convoy.”
“Stall?” C-3PO stopped at the threshold and let his head slump forward. “Why am I always assigned the dangerous tasks?”
Han drew his blaster pistol—a 434 “DeathHammer,” which Lando had given him to replace the trusty DL-44 that Raynar Thul had taken on Woteba—then he and the Noghri each slipped into one of the cramped crawlways hidden behind the service hatches in the back of the hold.
Han sat in the dark, waiting and thinking about how Leia’s devotion to her Jedi training had changed things between them. There had been a time—not that long ago—when he would never have agreed to let her stand bait. But now, even the Noghri recognized that her Force abilities were adequate protection. She radiated a calm confidence that seemed as unshakable as the Core, as though her Jedi studies had restored the faith she had lost in the future after Anakin died.
Han was glad for the change. Leia had always been his beacon star—the bright, guiding flame that had kept him on course through so many decades of struggle and despair. It was good to have her brightening the way again.
The soft whir of the cargo lift sounded from the other side of the service hatch and sent a chill racing down Han’s spine. He had not been thinking about his experience with the Kamarians when he squeezed into the crawlway to set up an ambush, but the darkness and the cramped confines and the likelihood of a bug fight set his pulse to pounding in his ears. It had been over forty years, but he could still feel those Kamarian pincers closing around his ankles, hear his nails scraping against the durasteel as he tried to keep them from dragging him out of his hiding place…
Han grabbed his earlobe and twisted, hard, trying to break out of his thought pattern with pain. His hands were already shaking, and if he let the memory progress into a full-fledged flashback, he would end up lying there in a ball while Leia and the Noghri dealt with the Flakax.
The lift clunked into place, and Leia’s muffled voice sounded through the service hatch. “Are these the crates the Squibs, er, the Directors wanted us to take to Tenupe?”
“Right.” The Flakax ended his answer with a throat-click. “Where do you—queen’s eggs!”
Han pushed open the service hatch and saw the heads of all six insects turned toward the far corner of the hold, where the crate Leia had just Force-ripped from the pincers of the first Flakax was crashing into the wall. It broke open, spilling a rifle version of the Verpine shatter gun and a variety of thermal grenades.
“Why, that doesn’t look like green thakitillo,” Leia said.
She pointed at the box in the second Flakax’s arms. That crate, too, went flying, and the insects finally recovered from their shock. The four Verpine ripped the tops off their crates. Before they could pull their weapons from the boxes, Cakhmaim and Meewalh opened up with their stun blasters and dropped all four from behind.
Han leveled his DeathHammer at the Flakax. “Take it easy, fellas,” he said. “No one has to get—”
The pair launched themselves at Leia, clacking their mandibles in fury and spewing a brown fume from their abdomens. Han fired twice, but their chitin was so thick and hard that even the DeathHammer’s powerful bolts did little more than blast fist-sized craters into it.
Leia vanished beneath the two creatures, and Han stopped firing. The chances of hitting Leia were just too great, especially when all he could see through the growing haze of brown fume was thrashing arms and swinging insect heads. He called for Cakhmaim and Meewalh and raced forward. As he gulped down his first breath of bug vapor, his nose, throat, and lungs erupted into caustic pain.
Within two steps, his eyes were so filled with tears he could no longer see. A step after that, he grew weak and dizzy and collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing, retching, and just generally feeling like a thermal grenade had detonated inside his chest. He crawled the last three meters to the fight and reached up to press the muzzle of his blaster to the back of a greenish thorax.
With its large compound eyes and a fully circular field of vision, the Flakax had already seen Han coming. It caught him in the head with a lightning-quick elbow strike. The DeathHammer bolt went wide, ricocheting off the deck before it burned a hole through the wall.
Then a muffled snap-hiss sounded from beneath the insect, and Han was nearly blinded when the tip of Leia’s lightsaber shot up through the Flakax, just a few centimeters from his nose. He barely managed to roll out of the way as the blade swept toward his face, opening the thorax from midline to flank and spilling bug blood all over Lando’s deck.
“Hey, watch—” Han had to stop and cough, then finished, “—that thing!”
Han staggered to his feet and pointed his blaster in the ge
neral direction of the tear-blurred melee in front of him, trying to separate his wife’s shape from that of the Flakax attacking her.
Then Cakhmaim and Meewalh came leaping in, hacking and gasping as they slammed into the writhing pile. An instant later the two Noghri went flying in the other direction, riding the surviving Flakax as Leia used the Force to send it tumbling across the hold.
“Han!” Leia’s voice sounded as raw and burning as Han’s felt. “Are you—”
“Fine.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Why didn’t you do that in the first place?”
“Hard to concentrate with those…mouthparts snapping in your face.” She deactivated her lightsaber and led Han after the Noghri and the Flakax. “Why didn’t you blast them?”
“I did,” Han said. “Someone ought to make armor out of those bugs.”
“Han!” Leia coughed. “They’re sentient beings!”
“Fair is fair,” Han countered. “If they get to wear it, so should we.”
They stepped out of stink cloud to hear Cakhmaim and Meewalh snarling as they continued to wrestle with the second Flakax. Han wiped the tears from his eyes and found the bug lying facedown on the deck with the two Noghri sitting astride it, still in their Ewok disguises. Cakhmaim had the insect’s arms pinned together behind its back at the elbow, while Meewalh was holding its ankles, pulling its legs back against the hip joints every time it tried to open the gas duct in its abdomen.
Leaving Leia to deal with the fray, Han secured the unconscious Verpine and stowed the impressive array of weaponry the insects had brought aboard. By the time he had finished, Leia and the Noghri had the Flakax kneeling with its arms bound behind its back and its abdominal gas duct plugged with a piece of cloth.
Leia waved the tip of her lightsaber in front of the insect’s head, causing the facets of its compound eyes to quiver and rustle as they followed the glow.
“Which one are you?” she asked. “Tito or Yugi?”
“Tito!” The Flakax sounded insulted. “I’m the handsome one. Everyone knows.”
“Yeah, those eyes of yours are really something,” Han said. “Now, why don’t you explain why you were going to kill us?”
