“When I determined I had seen enough, I set myself to the task of thinking through the separate challenges I faced: getting to the top of the hill; climbing the Spike; and getting away — assuming I even survived the ordeal. Neither Jova nor any of the others offered help.
“Getting to the hill was going to require nothing more than moving while the veermoks were in the caves. I would emerge from the copse of forest closest to the hill, cross an expanse of savanna, and pick my way through the boulders to the top. There would be no shade and no rest, and some of the crevasses between the boulders appeared deep enough to swallow me whole. If I wasn’t safely at the top by the time the veermoks emerged from the caves, I’d likely be torn apart on the hill.
“The spike itself presented problems of a different sort. The edges of the black glass column appeared sharp enough to cut through cloth or hide or human flesh. So I devised a strap made from a duranium-threaded belt I found among replacement parts for the old speeder we used from time to time; and from that same belt I also fashioned thick soles for my boots and protective pads for my hands. I knew that even the veermoks’ muscular legs weren’t powerful enough to propel them to the top of the Spike, but there was still the matter of my remaining on the flat summit for the entire day. Especially after Jova allowed that the veermoks might delay their nocturnal hunt until they had dealt with me. The vibro-lance was meant to counter that eventuality, though the lance wouldn’t contain enough charges to kill or stun all of the males. Worse still, they weren’t frightened of the vibro-lance. In run-ins we’d had with solitary veermoks, they had evinced no fear even of blasters and had often proved agile enough to dodge beams. Add to this that I would have to scramble down and fight my way to the bottom of the hill and cross the savanna in darkness. That was where some of my predecessors had failed their initiations. Jova said that I would see what remained of their bones scattered about, as if the Spike were some sort of Tarkin reliquary.
“To provide myself with an advantage, I spent days working with a shovel — while the males were lazing on the hill and the females were in the caves tending to the young — to excavate a series of traps and pits along what would be my escape route, some little more than deep holes, others with floors of sharpened stakes.
“Then the day came.
“I made my crossing through the tall grass and scampered up onto the porous, fine-grained rocks. One slip and I could have broken an ankle or become permanently wedged between the boulders. Venomous insects attacked me from hidden nests; stinging ants streamed out from hills of their own making; serpents rattled in forewarning. The heat beat down on me. Nature had conspired to make the hill a last stand against technology and civilization; a place engineered to test a sentient’s resolve to conquer and survive. But I endured.
“The Spike loomed above me like a lightning rod, a solidified puddle of black glass at its base. I threw the strap around it, planted the thick soles of my boots against the edges, and hauled myself up centimeters at a time. The ascent took much longer than I had anticipated, and I had scarcely reached the flat, slightly angled top when the first of the veermoks arrived.
“Seeing me there sitting cross-legged atop the Spike, the vibro-lance hanging over my shoulder, they began to hop and circle round in mounting, growling agitation, uncertain, perhaps awaiting instructions from Lord. Alone among them, however, Shadow merely sat on his haunches to watch me, communicating with members of his clique by clacking vocalizations. Finally Lord made his appearance, gazing up at me with fury in his eyes — and what struck me as hatred at having to be put to a test so early in the day. I wondered if some of my ancestors had survived by killing the dominant veermok, thinking that would dissuade the rest. But I didn’t believe that would work; not with Shadow standing by to assume leadership.
“As if by the power of voice alone he could dislodge me from my perch, Lord barked louder than the rest combined. After all, it was incumbent on him to deal with this intruder. But before he had a chance to act, Shadow issued another series of vocal clackings that prompted his followers to launch an attack on the Spike from all sides, their lethal claws scoring the volcanic glass with a sound that made every nerve in my body jangle. As if intent on splitting my attention, some feinted while others leapt as high as their legs could carry them. They roared and gnashed their big, triangular teeth, but I refused to give in to fear. Moreover, something unusual was going on. The attacks by Shadow’s minions were chaotic, nothing at all like the well-coordinated exercises I had watched them utilize during hunts. The turmoil sent Lord into a rage. Desperate to restore order, he batted at the young males who were charging back and forth or trying to gain purchase on the glass. He drew blood from a few but was unable to control them.
“I glanced at Shadow in time to hear him issue a low, warbling groan, and at once the young males turned on Lord with teeth and claws set to one purpose. For a moment the old veermok champion seemed too confused to respond, almost as if the communal attack violated their code of behavior, some etiquette particular to the species. Quickly, though, he realized that he had to fight for his life, and he gave himself over to defending himself, killing three of the young males before the rest finally got the better of him. And throughout it all, Shadow didn’t move a muscle.”
“An assassination,” Vader said. “With you providing the necessary distraction.”
Tarkin nodded. “An opportunity they had long been waiting for.”
“And the pretender — Shadow?”
Tarkin forced an exhale. “I gave the veermoks a moment to laud their new leader, then I hurled my lance and promptly killed him.
“I might as well have dropped a bomb on the hill. One moment the young veermoks didn’t know what to make of their victory in overcoming Lord; now they behaved as if they had nowhere to turn. Without a leader, a true inheritor, they fell victim to a kind of bewildered grief, an almost existential despair. They dropped to their bellies and stared up at me in almost docile expectation. I didn’t trust them, but I had no option but to descend the Spike at sunset, and when I threaded among them to retrieve my lance from Shadow’s inert body, not one of them loosed even so much as a growl, and they actually followed me down the hill.”
“What was your uncle’s reaction?” Vader asked.
“Jova said it was good to see me in one piece, particularly since he and the others had wagered that my bones would be joining those of my ancestors.” Tarkin paused before adding: “The following morning, the veermok troop abandoned the hill and the Spike. They left the plateau and weren’t seen again.”
“They failed to realize what they would bring down on themselves by turning on their leader,” Vader said.
“Precisely.”
“Then you are the last Tarkin to have passed the test.”
Tarkin nodded. “That particular test, yes.”
By then they had reached the shuttle bay. Tarkin walked alongside Vader to the foot of the ramp.
“Safe journey, Lord Vader. Be sure to give the pretender my regards.”
“Rest assured, Governor Tarkin.”
With an abrupt nod of his head and a swirl of his black cloak, Vader disappeared up the ramp and Tarkin started for the Star Destroyer’s command bridge.