“We’re not going there,” Lando said. “I just needed a starting point, to orient my land coordinate system.”
The Lady Luck cruised over the encased Bith city without stopping and then headed southward, deeper into the mangled wilderness areas that had long ago been devastated.
On a screen in front of him, Lando called up a detailed topographical map of the swamps and waterways. Jaina, as copilot, watched the progress of their flight, comparing the diagram with the sinuous creeks and rivers that sliced through the overgrown wasteland.
Warm brownish water moved sluggishly around knobby tree roots and vine-draped spreading trees. Clumps of phosphorescent plankton drifted about on the broad open watery areas, their light flickering like a floating thunderstorm.
“Welcome to the garden spot of Clak’dor VII,” Zekk said.
“We’re close,” Lando stated, scrutinizing the diagram and the numerical coordinates on his controls. He scowled at the unwelcoming vista of steamy marshes. “Now to find a place to land.”
Jaina and Zekk also scanned the area in search of a dry patch or a clearing. “Not quite enough docking bays on this planet,” Zekk grumbled.
In the middle of one broad pond, a wide area of sand rose up like a beached sea beast. The place looked damp, but solid enough to support the weight of the small space yacht. “There. Try that sandbar,” Jaina said.
Lando studied the clear area skeptically, using his own scanners. “I might get the sidewalls dirty … but you’re right. I don’t see a better place.”
With a burst of repulsorjets the Lady Luck settled down onto the wet sand, showering clumps of mucky debris into the air and out over the placid surface of the pond.
Lured by the tiny splashes, sinuous eel-like creatures swarmed up, snatched the tasteless morsels, and spat them back out. The eel creatures raised their heads up out of the murky water—though the “heads” were little more than jagged sucking mouths surrounded by circular rings of black eyes—and stared at the space yacht as it settled hard on the sandbar and then sat silent.
“Looks like we’ll have to walk the rest of the way,” Lando said as he extended the boarding ramp. “Are you both wearing those transparalon suits I gave you?”
Jaina looked in dismay out at the dripping, humid marshland. “Sure,” she said. “But I doubt it’ll handle all this.”
“Sometimes you’ve got to get a little dirty to be a real Jedi Knight.” Zekk tromped down the ramp and stepped onto the sandbar, looking for the shallowest way to solid ground in this swamp—but none of the ground looked particularly solid.
“I hope they didn’t see us fly in,” Jaina said, following him. “What if they decide to disappear even from their little shacks?”
“We came in low and quiet,” Lando said. “I doubt they saw anything. It’s hard to see very far if you’re at the water level.”
Together they splashed across the knee-deep water as glowing plankton clumps swirled around their boot-tops. The air smelled like garbage and overripe fruit. Unlike the air in the sanitized Climateria swamp at SkyCenter Galleria, the odors here were not at all pleasant.
Jaina stepped on some round-shelled creatures that tried to scuttle out of the way under the mud. She grabbed on to Zekk to keep her balance, and he held her shoulder. The two of them sloshed along together until they reached a bank covered with tufted blue and yellow grasses.
Three colorful insects the size of small birds flapped around, hissing and spitting tiny globs of a sticky fluid at them, which Jaina brushed aside. Between her fingers the fluid felt like molten spiderwebs. The butterfly-like things swirled in the air and flew off into the treetops; a large creature with a reptilian head and brightly feathered wings swooped down and gobbled two of the insects in a single dive.
“Jacen would really like it here,” Jaina said. “He’d have fun watching all this bayou life.”
“Your brother’s welcome to all of it he can handle,” Zekk said. “For me it’s just noisy and distracting.”
They trudged onward as Lando consulted his electronic map. Off to their left they saw several haystack-sized mounds of mud and straw and branches. Small mammals with broad, rounded ears poked their heads out of the mounds, blinking their large glistening eyes at the intruders. Lando paid no attention, but kept walking, shoving dangling wet moss out of his face and ducking under spine-covered branches.
“I’ve heard of popular musicians needing to hide from their fans,” Zekk said, “but this is ridiculous.”
“Obviously there’s more to it than that,” Lando agreed. “It’s a good sign.”
Dripping green and slimy swamp residue, their faces scratched by branches and stung by insects, the three sloshed deeper into the bayou, trusting Lando’s sense of direction and his presumably reliable information on the location of Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes.
At last, parting head-high tufts of bluish marsh grass and pushing the blades aside, Jaina looked into a clearing surrounded by knotted low-hanging water trees. Lando and Zekk crept closer on either side of her.
In the middle of the wet, flat area stood three ramshackle houses on stilts, teetering like weary swamp birds on unsteady legs. Their windows were small, the walls made of woven marsh grass and patched with thick wads of the resinous moss that hung from every tree. Buzzing firegnats, butterfly creatures, and fist-sized beetles flew all around, droning into the hot, humid air.
Jaina heard quiet mournful notes of music drifting up from the shacks, as if morose band members were passing the time by rehearsing a few old favorite tunes.
“Sounds like the Biths we’re looking for,” Zekk said.
Lando nodded. He pushed forward into the clearing, with the two young Jedi beside him. “Hello! Is anybody inside there? I’m looking for Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes.”
The music suddenly stopped with a loud squawk. They heard clatters, thuds, and bumping noises, as if people were scurrying about in a panic inside the tiny huts. One polished pink head popped up, just barely visible through a tiny window opening, and Jaina recognized the familiar alien form of a Bith musician.
Then the creature ducked down. Clanking and dissonant notes rang out from musical instruments as they were tossed aside.
“Go away! Leave us alone!” shouted one saucy-voiced Bith inside the huts. His Basic was heavily accented, high-pitched with alarm.
“Sounds like Figrin himself,” Lando said. “Figrin! Wait, it’s me!”
Jaina’s eyes went wide when she saw an ominous-looking tube appear through the window opening, a thick-walled cylinder sawed from an iron-cane stalk. The black hole in the tube looked very much like the mouth of a weapon.
“Look out!” she cried, just as a rumbling blast erupted from the tube with a puff of smoke. Zekk and Jaina both dove to one side, tumbling face-first into the marsh. Lando staggered backward to get out of the way. A hurtling mass of brown crashed into the trees behind them.
“Hey!” Lando shouted. “There’s no cause for—”
A second tube emerged from another window. This time the blast caught Lando squarely in the center of his chest.
“No!” Jaina shouted.
Lando staggered as the amorphous brown shape slammed into him, splattering in all directions, hurling him into a tree trunk. He looked down in horror at his chest, as if expecting to see blood and bones. Instead, he encountered only torn transparalon and sticky, dripping muck—the same muck they’d been slogging through for hours, dredged up from the bottom of the swamp.
“It’s just mud!” he said, aghast. “They’re shooting mud bombs at us.” Then he stormed forward, sloshing toward the houses on stilts. “That does it. You’ve gone too far this time, Figrin! You’ve ruined my shirt! You’ll pay for this out of your sabacc winnings!”