"That's Mara Jade Sky walker, Soontir Fel," she replied.

Fel nodded in acknowledgment but made no effort to correct himself.

"Chief Navigator Aabe had led us to believe that you were 'absent,'

" Mara commented.

"That is patently not the case."

"So were you just avoiding us earlier?"

"Avoiding the decision-making process, yes." Fel's voice was gravelly but strong. Jacen could see where Jagged Pel inherited his father's presence, if not his width. "My thoughts are not unclouded by emotions over this issue. I recall offering you an alliance some time ago." Mara nodded. "The irony wasn't lost on me, either."

"You didn't take it then, yet you expect us to take yours now." The enormous frame of the man who had once been the Empire's greatest TIE fighter pilot shifted minutely. It might have been a shrug, Jacen thought. "It is the way of the Chiss," he went on, "to stand down and let another decide when one is unable to be impartial. I trusted Peita to view with clarity what I could not." Fel's gaze was as cold and sharp as an ice dagger. Jacen didn't understand where the man's hostility came from. It was one thing to be old enemies, but that didn't explain the pa.s.sion that so obviously burned behind the man's gaze.

Luke moved to stand beside his wife. "I believe we reached a satisfactory conclusion." He held out his hand. "Under other circ.u.mstances, perhaps it'd be a pleasure, Soontir." Fel hesitated, then returned the gesture, gripping Luke's hand in his enormous fist. "We're not allies yet, Skywalker."

"But we're not enemies, either. Surely that counts for something."

Mara made a show of glancing at her chronometer. "We should really be going," she said. "Those two days aren't going to stick around forever."

"Indeed," Pel said. His dark gaze swept the group gathered behind the Skywalkers. "The Expeditionary Library is some distance from here, in another enclave. Rather than move your ship, I suggest you allow me to provide you transport. The resources at my disposal are more secure than even those the Chiss normally offer." Luke hesitated, and Jacen could sense his uncle conferring with Mara. He was sure that Luke's concerns reflected his own reservations. Aabe's decision to allow them access to the library had surprised him, but Jacen could see how it might be a ploy to separate them from the ship. And he knew Mara wouldn't want to be any farther horn Jade Shadow than was absolutely necessary.

But did they dare risk offending Fel by refusing his offer? Or could they afford the time it would take to move their own ship when a convenient alternative was available? After all, as Mara had said, two days wasn't a lot of time to play with.

"Thank you," Luke said in the end. "Your offer would certainly save us some time."

"But if you try anything, Soontir..." Mara let the threat go unstated, but there was no mistaking it in her tone or body language.

Fel almost smiled. "Believe me: if I had wanted to try something, I would have done so long before now." He turned away. "Time is wasting. We cannot afford to be standing here chatting like fools. If you're going to come with me, then I suggest you do so now. Because the deadline is not going to change. "

"You'll make sure of that, will you?" Mara asked.

He fixed her with another steely gaze. "You can count on it, Mara Jade Skywalker." Jaina was exhausted by the time they returned to their quarters after the first day on Bakura. The meeting with the Senate had been postponed so Prime Minister Cun-dertol could attend, leaving them stuck with junior officials and restless flunkies. When the time finally came, the presence of the Galactic Alliance delegation was completely swamped by Cundertol's triumphant appearance and the banquet that followed. His long, somewhat rambling and self - congratulatory speech was greeted with cheers from the Senate and the press galleries, but left her agreeing with Jag's impression: The Prime Minister of Bakura was a good-looking figurehead, but a little too obsessed with his own interests to be a good statesperson.

Nevertheless, the banquet hadn't been too bad. Men and women in formal attire had provided attentive service, rather than droids, making Jaina feel very out of place in her expedition uniform. The food had been excellent, and she'd had the chance to sample some of the Namana nectar she'd heard so much about, a liqueur the Bakurans were particularly proud of. And rightfully so, she had to admit. Orange in color, it caressed her taste buds like a slow-burning ray of sunlight. She'd only taken a sip, however; she didn't want her reflexes dulled.

Judging by its effects on the people around her, her decision had been a wise one.

Two people who had also stayed resolutely sober were Cundertol and his deputy, Blaine Harris. She wondered if that explained her impression that, despite the seemingly friendly and polite exchanges between them, underneath the surface simmered a powerful tension. It might have been a mutual dislike of each other, but why that should be, exactly, Jaina wasn't sure. They were political running mates, after all. It could have been nothing more than the fact that both were powerful personalities and dominating men.

Working together in such close but clearly defined roles would undoubtedly chafe.

Still, it made her curious. She wondered how Harris had felt upon receiving the news of Cundertol's kidnapping. She imagined that part of him would have been secretly relieved to be rid of him. If the Prime Minister died or disappeared, his deputy would be the natural successor.

The question of whether Harris had been involved in the kidnapping itself therefore had to be asked. And if he had, then Malinza Thanas's arrest would have been little more than a deliberate attempt by Harris to find a scapegoat.

Really, though, there was nothing she could pin down to justify either Jag's nebulous suspicions, or her own. Cundertol's Force presence was strong and clear: He was who he said he was, and his thoughts were his own.

Even Lwothin, the P'w'eck advance leader, seemed nothing but pleased at Cundertol's return. A little relieved, perhaps-but that was understandable, given that the consecration of Bakura was due to take place the very next day.

With Cundertol back and the popular leader of the resistance behind bars, there was no reason for the Keeramak to further delay its arrival.

The dull-scaled saurian hadn't partaken of the local delicacies, preferring instead to stick to a dish of fft-a multilegged lizard that had been imported from Lwhekk especially for the occasion. Throughout the banquet he seemed to be carefully observing the people and the goings-on around him, and although Jaina's eyes met his on several occasions, she found his golden gaze completely unreadable.

"Anyone else feel like we're the odd ones out?" Han asked, collapsing onto a floating couch. Their rooms weren't as finely appointed as the ones they'd had on Galantos, but that suited Jaina just fine. Too much hospitality only made her edgy.

"They're just caught up in their own affairs." As was often the case, Leia's input on the matter was in opposition to her husband's, but to show she wasn't being argumentative, she sat on the couch beside Han and took his hand in hers.

She didn't mean to be contrary; she simply wanted to make sure that every situation was properly viewed from all angles. It had taken Jaina a long time to understand the way her mother's mind worked, something her twin brother seemed to have picked up instinctively a long time ago.

"They'll get around to us when they have reason to."

"Perhaps they should be reminded of those reasons," Jaina said, talking over her shoulder as she set up the same anti-bugging equipment they'd used on Galantos. "They've got problems a simple treaty isn't going fix, because if that illegal transmission we received is anything to go by, then the resistance infiltrators are high up the command chain.

Locking Malinza Thanas away isn't going to magically erase that fact. If anything, it could make it worse." In the corner of her eye, she noticed Tahiri moving restlessly through the rooms,, as though searching for something, and wondered what the younger Jedi was doing.

"It depends on what they want," Leia was saying. "One group seems in favor of an alliance with the P'w'eck as opposed to an alliance with us. Another wants nothing to do with the P'w'eck." She shrugged. "If our being here exposes the cracks in the underground, then that might be a good thing. Instead of one concentrated a.s.sault on the local government, their objectives may fragment, resulting in a number of small and relatively ineffectual attacks."

"Scattershot might be inaccurate," Han said, absently playing with Leia's fingers in his hand, "but it usually hits something. Personally, I'd rather be on the receiving end of a single sniper than a dozen people spraying wildly. At least with a sniper you know when the threat is-" He stopped midsentence, his attention also caught by Tahiri's unusual behavior. Now she was inspecting the underside of an antique drink cabinet.

"Tahiri?" Leia said. "What are you-?"

"A-ha!" Tahiri stood bolt upright, brandishing a small object in her outstretched hand. "This is it!" Jaina and her parents exchanged confused looks.

"This is what?" Jaina asked.

Tahiri brought the thing closer for the others to see. Jaina leaned in to examine the object and found it to be a metallic capsule no larger than a baby's tooth.

"The Ryn said we'd find what we needed here," Tahiri said. "This has to be it."

"The Ryn?" Leia repeated.

Han quickly outlined what he had learned about Tahiri's encounter with the Ryn on the landing field.

"Did he say anything else?" Leia asked Tahiri.

"Only that he thought you should be careful," Tahiri told her. "But he couldn't talk properly there, so he said he'd contact us later.

Perhaps that's what this is: a note of some kind." She fiddled with the capsule, turning it over in her hands and picking at a seam around its middle. Nothing happened until she squeezed it between two fingers; then one end clicked and there was a brief but intense flash of light.

Jaina blinked in surprise, waiting for something else to happen.

But nothing did. The capsule was inert again, and no matter how much Tahiri poked at the thing, she couldn't get it to repeat the flash of light.

"That can't be right," the young Jedi muttered. "You'd think he'd make sure it worked before leaving it for us."

"Excuse me, Mistress Leia," C-3PO said, "but-"

Han raised a hand to motion him to be quiet. "Hang on, Goldenrod.

We're busy right now trying to figure out how this thing works."

"But, sir," the droid said. "I already know how it works." All four stopped what they were doing and turned to C-3PO.

"Well?" Han asked after almost fifteen seconds. "Come on!"

"It would seem, sir," C-3PO said, "that the flash of light contained a compressed message-a holographic page of writing, to be precise. My photoreceptors were able to collect the data and store it in my memory banks."

"A note?" Tahiri asked excitedly. "What does it say?"

"It appears to be written in an obscure Givin code."

"But can you translate it?" The droid bristled at the very idea he might not be able to. "Of course. The message reads: 'Malinza Thanas has information you will need. She is being held in Cell Twelve-Seventeen of the Salis D'aar Penitentiary. You can gain access through Rear Entrance Twenty-three at midnight tonight. The code word is fringe dweller. I will try to contact you properly tomorrow.' ' Jaina committed the details to memory. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid so, Mistress Jaina."

"It's not much, is it?" Tahiri put in, disappointed.

"It's enough for now," Leia said. "I'll go and find out what Malinza has to say as soon as the time is right." Jaina shook her head.

"Let me go," she said. "You'll be missed. They'll expect you to stay to investigate the situation with the P'w'eck. If you send me or Dad in your place, they'll wonder why."

"Will Malinza listen to you, though?" Leia asked. "Right now she has no more reason to trust you than we have to trust her."

"I'll just have to use my winning ways, I guess. Be - sides, it's not as if she's going to find many willing-ears in prison. This could be the last chance she gets."

"Okay." Leia stood and put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "But be careful, won't you?" Jaina smiled, then brushed off her mother's concern - sweet though it was-and went to her room to prepare.

"Halt!" The image of a guard appeared in the stolen villip. Nom Anor watched as the Shamed One carrying the villip-cunningly concealed in a dead and - hollowed k'snell vase-unhesitatingly obeyed the warrior's command-as would be expected of a member of the lowest social cla.s.s who had just wandered into Lord Shimrra's antechambers.

The guard advanced slowly upon the Shamed One, his face set in a sneer. "In your haste to rejoin Yun-Shuno, you have forgotten that no one enters these chambers without permission from the Supreme Overlord himself." He stopped a couple of paces from the Shamed One, his grotesque visage thrust into close focus. "Explain why it is that your vile presence now dirties these floors."

"I-I was sent by High Priest Jakan," stammered Nom Anor's spy. She had practiced the excuse many times before leaving on her mission, but it had never before sounded so unconvincing. "He or-ordered me to present this offering-"

"Lies!" The warrior's amphistaff uncurled from around his uniformed waist, snapping into an attack position. "You will tell me what it is you are doing here, and then, for your transgressions, you will feel the wrath of Lord Shimrra's palace guard." As the warrior took another step closer, the Shamed One dropped to her knees, clutching the k'snell vase and the villip within to her chest. "Please-" Nom Anor couldn't see her face, but he could imagine her fear.

" Your begging is an affront to all Yuuzhan Vong!" the warrior growled as he raised his amphistaff. "Prepare to die!"

"Jeedai!" the Shamed One screeched suddenly, her tone no longer obsequious and sniveling. As was planned, she triggered the patch at the base of the k'snell with the palm of her hand. "Ganner!" The image died with the villip and the Shamed One a split second before the amphistaff came crashing down. The last thing Nom Anor saw of the antechamber was the twisted and hateful snarl of the warrior.

"She wasn't supposed to say anything about the Jedi," he said, using the infidel p.r.o.nunciation he had become accustomed to during years of undercover work. A rising tide of anger was hard to contain. They had been so close!

"At'raoth was devoted to the cause," Shoon-mi said. He stood to one side of Nom Anor's new throne, situated in a hiding place that was far removed from the last one. The former Shamed One was clearly uneasy in the aftermath of their failed attempt to infiltrate Shimrra's chambers.

"She went willingly, knowing that she might die."

"But whether she died the right way remains to be seen," Kunra said. "Will she be captured and tortured? Will they learn about us?"

"No!" Shoon-mi seemed shocked by the suggestion. "She will have taken the appropriate precautions." Nom Anor was certain his highest acolyte was correct. "The appropriate precautions" meant, in this case, breaking the false tooth at the back of her mouth and swallowing the irksh poison they had provided her with. It would have killed her instantly. Her fanatical loyalty to the cause guaranteed that she would have obeyed that last command.

But even suicide might not be sufficient to avoid di - saster, Nom Anor thought. The spy had openly declared her allegiance to the Jedi heresy, so Shimrra would certainly be alerted now to attempts to infiltrate his walls. It would be even harder to get in next time-and riskier.

That didn't mean he'd give up trying, though. He didn't care how many acolytes died in the attempt. Information on his enemy's activities was vital. Any campaign, covert or overt, depended on intelligence, which meant he needed to get someone on the inside of those walls-and soon. If he couldn't, then he wouldn't know what measures were being taken against him, and that left him unacceptably vulnerable.

"We did well just to get this far," Kunra said. It was a desperate attempt to make good out of a bad situation, but there was no hiding his weariness.

"At'raoth made it farther than any of the others."

"I believe I even heard voices," Shoon-mi said.

Nom Anor nodded. He had heard voices, too, from within the chamber on the far side of the threshold the spy had attempted to cross. He was sure that those voices had belonged to High Prefect Drathul, High Priest Jakan, and Lord Shimrra's abominable puppet Onimi. Someone had been arguing with them-one of the warriors, perhaps. The argument had been too faint to discern any actual words, but it had been close. Had At'raoth made it just a few steps closer...

He growled an ancient oath under his breath. Mistakes risked the ruin of everything he was trying to achieve. The heretical movement was still too weak to survive a concerted purge.

"We have to try again," he said shortly. "We need access to those chambers." Frustration boiled inside him like a magnetic storm. He missed his old networks, his chain of informers, the many spies who had fed him information. Bloated on data, he had not known how fortunate he'd been before his fall. Starved, weakened by ignorance, he longed for a return to those glory days. " If we can't get a villip inside, then we will need an informer."

"But who?" Shoon-mi asked. "And how?"

"Our numbers are increasing," Kunra said by way of reply. "Word is rising up the ranks. It's only a matter of time before we infiltrate the upper echelons."

"I cannot wait that long!" Nom Anor snapped. "The closer we get to the top, the riskier it becomes for us. Without knowing what Shimrra knows, we are like one of his sacrifices: on our knees with a coufee at our throats, waiting for the killing blow to finish us off." He shrugged under his robes. Lately in his dreams he found himself fleeing a band of warriors bent on his destruction. He never saw them, but he could always sense them close behind, and could always hear them. In his dreams, he was nothing more than an animal being hunted.

He shook his head; the waking hours were no time to waste on nightmares.

"I will not die down here," he said. "I will not become like the corridor ghouls: blind and vulnerable to anyone with light."

"It will not happen, Master," Shoon-mi said lamely. "We would let no such thing happen to you." Shoon-mi's attempts to rea.s.sure him were like those he would use on a child, and Nom Anor brushed them aside with the contempt they deserved.

"Enough!" He stalked back to the throne and collapsed into it.

"Find me another volunteer. We will try again; we will keep trying until we have achieved our goal! We must crack Shimrra's security before he cracks ours. It's either that, or perish." Shoon-mi swallowed and backed away, bowing. He didn't know anything about the spy they'd captured at their last headquarters, but he understood the reality of their situation. They were heretics, anathema to Shimrra and the priests, a contamination to be purged. A rust, Nom Anor thought, remembering his musing on the rotting of iron he had observed in the belly of Yuuzhan'tar before adopting the mantle of Prophet.

"It will be done, Master."

"Make certain of it," Nom Anor said. His glare fell upon Kunra, also. "Both of you." Kunra nodded grimly, not needing to say that there were only so many volunteers left to be wasted on such hopeless missions.

The more that failed, the fewer there were to choose from next time.

Sacrifice needed a point to be n.o.ble.

But he, too, understood the harsh reality of the situation. It was either kill or be killed. If the most the Shamed Ones could gain was to choose the manner of their pa.s.sing, then that, at least, was something.

It was certainly more than Shimrra had ever offered them.

Jain a crouched behind a stone bal.u.s.trade on the roof of a warehouse across the road from the penitentiary. She kept herself low to avoid being spotted by the powerful floodlights sweeping the area.

Regular patrols around the perimeter of the prison she had expected, but the Ryn hadn't warned them about the swarm of G-2RD sentry droids that accompanied them, and she hadn't antic.i.p.ated them.