“Your … friend was right. I wouldn’t have trusted him.” Raynar’s father lowered the blaster and extended a hand for his son to help him out of the escape pod. Raynar had thought about this too long to be embarrassed anymore, although his family had rarely engaged in physical contact when he was growing up. Even before his father’s feet were firmly on the deckplates, Raynar threw his arms around Bornan in a fierce hug. And his father, perhaps because he was unsteady, or perhaps because he’d also had months to reflect, did not hesitate in returning the embrace. Only the sound of his friends’ footsteps descending into the cargo hold brought Raynar bask to reality. His father flinched and reached for his blaster, instantly suspicious again.
“These are my friends, too,” Raynar said, and introduced them one by one. “They’re all Jedi trainees, except of course for Em Teedee, who is the best miniaturized translating droid ever to be retrofitted on Mechis III—and a pretty good navigator to boot.”
“Speaking of navigators,” Zekk said, “what about the module Nolaa Tarkona wanted so badly? Was it onboard your ship when it blew up?”
Bornan Thul pointed into the emergency pod. “No, I brought it along. It’s here with me.”
Raynar felt giddy with relief. “Then you don’t have to run anymore,” he said. “All we have to do is destroy the information.”
His father’s mouth formed a grim line. All the blood seemed to drain from his once-round cheeks. He shook his head.
“It’s not that simple. Before I got into the escape pod I noticed that the computers on my ship were all being accessed at once. I don’t know how, but someone was slicing into them remotely.”
“Ah. That would probably be Boba Fett,” Zekk said.
“He did that to the Rock Dragon when we were in the rubble field of Alderaan,” Jaina explained, then looked questioningly at Bornan Thul. “But you have the navicomputer with you. Boba Fett couldn’t have sliced into it.”
“You don’t understand.” Bornan’s voice rasped as if it were painful for him to speak. “I knew that even if I destroyed this navicomputer Nolaa Tarkona would never stop looking for the weapons depot. That’s why I went there myself, hoping to destroy it. I couldn’t find a way, though, so I left again, planning to buy supplies and weapons so that I could return to blow up the storehouse.” Raynar blanched. “But that means that the location of the plague storehouse—”
“—was in your ship’s own automatic navigation log before it blew up,” Jaina finished for him.
“In that case,” Zekk concluded, “Boba Fett has the information. And he won’t hesitate to give it to Nolaa Tarkona.”
6
Nolaa Tarkona gritted her sharpened teeth when she learned of the impending arrival of the New Republic inspection team. Her hirelings had failed to find either Bornan Thul or the location of the Emperor’s plague storehouse. And now she was being pushed against the wall. Her glorious political movement was in grave danger. Her finest plan, her highest expectations, had been thwarted—so far. The Diversity Alliance might never be able to unleash its storm of vengeance to obliterate the human race in punishment for the evils of the past. She had tried, and she had failed, because of one missing piece of information. Her hopes of liberating all oppressed species had collapsed like an imploding star. Even so, Nolaa did not intend to give up willingly.
She would make her mark in blood if nothing else. When pushed to the wall, some creatures turned very vicious indeed. She summoned Rullak, the Quarren representative, and Kambrea, the Devaronian female whose wily ways had allowed her to move up quickly in the ranks of the Diversity Alliance. Kambrea had recruited many members, both from her own race and from other downtrodden species. Nolaa also sent for Corrsk, her reptilian Trandoshan general wounded in combat by the young Wookiee who had betrayed them and fled back to his cronies in the New Republic.
She looked stonily at her three generals as they came forward. All had increased in rank since the untimely death of her wolfman Adjutant Advisor, Hovrak.
“The New Republic is sending a team to inspect Ryloth,” Nolaa said, “and we must choose whether to surrender meekly, or fight to the death. We can either be cowards or martyrs—and I know which I must choose.”
She didn’t ask for their decision. She knew Corrsk would fly into a battle frenzy, but Rullak and Kambrea were not quite as determined to lay down their lives for a dream. They had come to the Diversity Alliance to gain personal glory, and Nolaa doubted they would sacrifice their own blood for the cause.
“We’ve gathered arms, weapons, explosives,” Nolaa pointed out. “We have a few fighting ships, enough for a small armada. And we have sufficient weaponry and devoted soldiers to make a stand here. We can fight! We will lure the unsuspecting New Republic team into our catacombs and slaughter them. Then we declare Ryloth neutral—exempt from human law—and refuse to grant them any further access.”
Kambrea looked astonished.
“But they will never let you get away with that. They will force their way in, howling for revenge!”
Nolaa stiffened. Her tattooed head-tail lashed back and forth. “We have the power of righteousness on our side. If we become martyrs, the whole galaxy will see how humans treat any resistance to their domination.”
Kambrea took a step backward. The Quarren fidgeted, his face tentacles quivering. Corrsk stood like a towering statue.
“Kill humans,” he said in his gargling voice. A signal alerted Nolaa, and she felt cold inside. She hadn’t expected the human team to arrive for another day, at least—but it would be just like them to attempt to catch the Diversity Alliance unawares. One of the Duros command system operators signaled her.
“Esteemed Tarkona, Boba Fett’s ship has arrived. He bears urgent information for you.”
“Boba Fett!”
She did not allow herself to hope. The masked bounty hunter had already reported failure too many times. Still, he would not have come without good reason. She waited for the Slave IV to enter the landing bay and for Fett to be escorted into her presence. Ignoring the guards, the masked bounty hunter strode directly up to Nolaa Tarkona, his shoulders squared. In one gauntleted hand he carried a data cylinder. The slitted visor showed nothing of his face.
It was difficult to read his body language, but Nolaa thought she detected a swagger of pride that had been missing the previous times he had come to her.
“We cornered Bornan Thul,” Fett said without any greeting. “He escaped in a small lifepod and triggered his ship to self-destruct.”
Nolaa wanted to strangle something, someone nearby.
“So he got away again? You dare to report another failure?”
“No,” Fett said. He held up the data cylinder. “Before his ship exploded, I sliced into his computers and drained the files. I sorted through them during my flight here.” He handed the cylinder to her. “Thul took Fonterrat’s navicomputer with him, but he went to the place you seek—five days ago. His ship’s own log carried the precise coordinates.”
Barely able to contain her excitement, Nolaa snatched the cylinder, raised her clawed fingers, and motioned for a data reader to be brought to her. A Talz guard hustled up with the apparatus. She inserted the cylinder and began scanning files. Her rose-quartz eyes flicked from side to side. Finally Nolaa bared her sharp teeth in a broad grin.
“Yessss,” she said. “It is here. This changes everything.”
Leaping out of her stone chair, she called the other generals to her side. Then she instructed her Sullustan clerks to pay Boba Fett the full bounty from the Diversity Alliance coffers.
“Our business is finished then, Nolaa Tarkona,” Fett said.