Lowie slowly lowered his lightsaber when the a.s.sa.s.sin droid made no threatening move. The Wookiee and IG-88 stood motionless, regarding each other.

"We've tried to keep our own mission quiet, but with the numerous ships involved, some comm traffic must have gotten' through. IG-88 could well have picked up the evidence that Boman Thul was here, and he came to complete his mission! We're saved, if he'll protect all of us."

Lowie grumbled skeptically.

"Come along with us, IG-88. You can help," Em Teedee said to the big droid. "We're supposed to meet Bornan Thul near the chamber where the plague cylinders are stored. But these doors have gotten in our way.

Could you a.s.sist us in removing them?"

Lowie still held his deactivated lightsaber, ready to cut away the door if necessary. But IG-88 clomped forward to the partially opened but frozen barricade that blocked them from the central chamber. He planted his metallic feet on the floor, adjusted his stance for traction, and then grabbed the blast door.

Servomotors whined; straining gears and metal joints squealed. IG-88's durasteel arms and torso flexed ever so slightly, bending with the immense strain-an then the pressure door groaned and snapped. Through metal fatigue the hinges simply broke away, and IG-88 shoved the wreckage aside.

"Very good," Em Teedee said. "Now do let us hurry. We can a.s.sist you in finding Borran Thul."

IG-88 plunged ahead into the corridor, fearing no Diversity Alliance soldiers or any other obstacle that might slow him down. Lowie followed, knowing that at least they wouldn't have any further trouble with bothersome doors.

MEANWHILE, BACK ON Ryloth, as soon as Sirra exposed the Diversity Alliance's secret cache of weapons, Kambrea screamed at the top of her voice, "Guards! Stop them before they kill us all!" Kambrea's words provided exactly the right provocation for the already-tense guards. Her soldiers whirled about in search of a target. The Gamorreans, slower-witted than the others, simply opened fire without aiming. Several blaster bolts struck near Sirra and the stockpile of contraband weapons. Luke Skywalker threw himself backward, his Jedi reflexes ready and tight as a spring.

"Stop shooting! Stop shooting!" Senator Trubor squeaked, but n.o.body listened to him.

Lusa galloped across the loading bay and knocked Sirra aside as a volley of bolts struck a small box of packaged hand blasters, detonating it. The explosion shoved them all backward. They scrambled to keep their balance.

"Don't let them leave!" Kambrea shouted. "They can't escape!"

Under a barrage of alarms, dozens of Diversity Alliance soldiers raced in. Luke felt a deep sadness as he ignited his lightsaber and prepared to fight. Most of these soldiers, he knew, had been swayed by Nolaa Tarkona's words and struggled against enemies who did not need to be enemies. They knew nothing about the circ.u.mstances here, only that they felt threatened. Kambrea's soldiers shot in a cross fire across the loading bay. New Republic guards fell back with their own weapons blazing. Two human escorts stood next to Kur, protecting him as they held their blaster rifles, ready to fight to the death. Another blast ricocheted off the ceiling, and broken stone rubble pattered down around them.

Cilghal stepped up to Luke, her lightsaber glowing. She looked at him with her large round eyes.

"Even though I'm an amba.s.sador," she said, "I always carry my Jedi weapon with me."

Luke raised his energy blade beside his former student.

"Diversity Alliance soldiers!" he called. "We did not come here to fight.

Surrender now, and the New Republic will punish only the treacherous members of your organization."

"You mean like me?" Kambrea shouted. "And Nolaa Tarkona? These humans want to destroy us all! We must fight for our lives!"

Outraged, the alien fighters redoubled their blaster fire. Lusa and Sirra had taken shelter behind one of the ships. Sirra dug in a broken container marked MEDICINAL SUPPLIES and drew out a blaster of her own.

She squatted, carefully picking her target. Three brutish Abyssin set aside their heavy spiked clubs and hauled out energy rifles as they hunkered behind a small skimmer. Sirra watched the one-eyed soldiers preparing to fire on the New Republic troops. Flashing her fangs in a grim smile, she lined up her blaster crosshairs with the fuel module of the tiny ship. Here in the landing bay, the skimmer would have no shields, no protection. She fired at full strength. The fuel pod exploded nicely.

The Abyssin were blown back with the rain of shrapnel. Diversity Alliance soldiers continued to stream in, increasing their firepower. A human soldier died with a smoking blaster hole in his chest. When a Gamorrean guard lumbered forward to check on his kill, another human soldier cut down the piglike creature in turn. The entire grotto was filled with sounds of weapons fire, explosions, ricochets, screams of terror, and howls of pain. Luke realized how outnumbered they were-and their enemies were increasing moment by moment.

Kambrea kept herself sheltered near a barricade of weapons crates stacked high behind her. The Devaronian female had all the firepower and ammunition she would need to hold off a.s.sailants for many days. She gestured with a clawed hand, trying to attract the attention of her fighters, pointing toward Sirra and Lusa, who huddled in scant shelter near the small craft.

"Get those two! They're traitors to the Diversity Alliance. They brought all this upon us!"

As the weapons fire turned toward his two young charges, Luke knew he had to help protect them. Sirra shot her own blaster, but she couldn't possibly hold off the entire barrage. Amba.s.sador Cilghal ran beside Luke toward where Lusa and Sirra were making their last stand. With crossed lightsabers Luke and Cilghal intercepted the blaster fire, deflecting energy bolts into the stone walls and occasionally into enemy attackers as well.

Lusa, boiling with frustration and wanting to strike a blow against the radical group that had caused her so much misery, saw Kambrea hiding behind the wall of weapons crates. From where he stood, Luke Skywalker could sense the centaur girl tapping into the Force. He knew Lusa had great potential to become a Jedi, but she was untrained, did not know what to do-and so she could not control the surge she directed at Kambrea. Her rippling tug made the wall of heavy crates shake, tilt...

and finally topple down.

The Devaronian had only time to look up and see the avalanche of weapons containers falling toward her. Kambrea roared and tried to squirm away, but she was far too late. Tons of heavy crates fell on top of her, burying the provisional leader of the Diversity Alliance. Seeing Kambrea killed, the Diversity Alliance soldiers, who were still duped as to the actual cause of the fight, let out a howl of outrage, roaring vows of revenge. Their blaster fire increased.

More soldiers rushed in. It looked as if nothing could stop the complete obliteration of the New Republic inspection team. The bloodl.u.s.t and anger bottled in the grotto grew even higher, as everyone fought for their lives, for revenge, or for political ideals. On the other side of the chamber, left unattended except for two small Sull.u.s.tan guards wearing the uniforms of the New Republic, Senator Trubor crawled along, trying to stay under cover.

He squeaked, "We surrender! We surrender! It's the only way!"

The small Chadra Fan stood up, waving his hands-and two of the Gamorrean guards, seeing only someone they knew as their enemy, targeted him. Both shot the senator. Little Trubor died with a high-pitched squeal as he tumbled backward into the hands of the helpless Sull.u.s.tan guards, who dragged his body away. The New Republic soldiers cried out in anger.

Unexpectedly, the Twi' lek refugee Kur stood up, shook away the restraining hands of his two New Republic escorts, and strode into the thick of the firefight. He seemed willing to die, or convinced of his own invincibility. Standing out in the open, in the middle of the chamber, he held up his clawed hands.

"You must cease firing. All of you!" His voice was stronger and prouder than anything Luke had expected. Several more blaster shots rang out; a Gamorrean guard fired at him and missed-but more rapidly than Luke would have thought possible, the blasterfire tapered off and then fell silent.

Kur looked at the barricaded fighters in the bay, squaring his shoulders.

His head-tails thrashed with agitation, and he tried to meet them all with his piercing gaze.

"Aliens have shed alien blood!" he shouted in a tone of voice that expressed horror to all present. He gestured down at the dead Chadra Fan senator. "But for what? Did you gain peace? Freedom from tyranny? No! The search for revenge has only brought you death and given you cause to distrust each other. Isn't this exactly what the Diversity Alliance promised to prevent?" Kur paused and stared at all the fighters, who were huddled down for shelter. But they were listening now, and not shooting.

"Look around you. This time there is no scapegoat - no excuse to blame the killing on one species or another. All races must stop trying to place the blame for the injustices of centuries gone by-and begin working together." He held up a fist. "As equals. We must build from the present, not resort to savagery because of the past." As he looked at all of them, he swelled with pride.

Luke felt the strength in the air, felt that Kur had regained his self-confidence. In a brave gesture, Cilghal switched off her lightsaber and stepped away from her shelter to stand next to Kur. Luke went out to join her, willing the others to come out as well. Several of the Diversity Alliance soldiers, idealistic aliens who fought for what they believed was right and knew nothing of Nolaa Tarkona's other plans, also tossed down their weapons and came forward.

"We must talk together," Kur said. "Only that way can we find peace."

Luke looked at the exiled refugee. Though Nolaa Tarkona wasn't there, and Kambrea had already been killed, he sensed that the Twi'leks had found a powerful new leader.

IN ORBIT AROUND the insignificant-looking asteroid,, the Diversity Alliance armada and the New Republic fleet battled for the right to continued existence. Violent explosions from blasted warships punctuated the blackness all around, made all the more eerie because of the silence of vacuum. Raaba might have been watching a hologram of an event that had occurred long ago. No smells of flaming gases or singed flesh reached her nostrils. No expanding ball of heat threw her backward or scorched her chocolate-brown fur. No thunderous detonations burst painfully upon her eardrums. Yet to Raaba, who had never witnessed such death and destruction of those she knew, s.p.a.ce itself seemed to shudder at the savagery-and that shudder she felt all the way to her bones.

The Ugnaught gunner on her bridge crew clipped a New Republic X-wing with a lucky shot. Raaba's crew cheered as the little ship blossomed into an expanding cloud of hot gas and debris on the front viewscreen.

The cheers died to grim murmurs when a few seconds later one of their own midsize transports disintegrated in slow motion before their eyes. Raaba paced the deck behind her tactical officer. She continued to issue orders, forcing a calm and steady tone into her voice that she did not completely feel. She couldn't allow herself to panic. If she lost control, even more lives could be lost. Raaba ordered her comm officer to contact Nolaa Tarkona on the asteroid and inform her that the entire armada was now under attack. Raaba had hoped not to bother her leader again, especially not with bad news, but the senseless losses being suffered by the Diversity Alliance left her little choice.

Most of the pilots in the Alliance armada already wanted to retreat.

Raaba could smell the terror that a dose of true combat had injected into the veins of her crew.

"I'm sorry, Captain, there's no response from the Esteemed Tarkona," the comm officer told Raaba. "We picked up a couple of explosions on the surface just before that Hapan ship took off. We have not been able to reach her since then."

Another New Republic fighter exploded and vanished into insignificance in the vastness of s.p.a.ce while Raaba looked on. A growl of rage and protest built in her throat. What did this fighting gain them? One moment a human enemy died, the next it was one of her compatriots. Talz, Bith, Ithorian, Sull.u.s.tan, Ugnaught, Rodian, Kushiban, human-what did it matter? People were dying! Raaba could not let this go on much longer. Facing the tactical officer in charge of the armada, she gave him simple, strict orders: he was to draw the New Republic fleet away from the asteroid but engage them as little as possible, keep losses to a minimum. Raaba herself would go down to the weapons depot to fetch Nolaa Tarkona. If their leader was alive, Raaba would bring her back within the hour, triumphant.

If Raaba had not returned by then, the tactical officer must retreat to Ryloth and await further orders. The tactical officer, a short, fearless Sull.u.s.tan named Ma'thu, started to object, but Raaba growled that her orders could be countermanded by no one but Nolaa Tarkona herself. With that, the chocolate-furred Wookiee sprinted off the bridge toward the docking bay, where her skimmer Rising Star awaited. If luck was with her, she could make it to the asteroid in less than five standard minutes.

After today's events, however, she could no longer be certain that luck was with her.

BORNAN THUL STOOD outside the central storage chamber, cold with anger and sick with despair. Nolaa Tarkona had found the human-killing plague at last, and now she had in her grasp the means to destroy everyone. And it was his own fault for not taking care of it sooner. Boman knew what he had to do. Hunkered next to Zekk and Raynar, he took a deep breath. He reached out to squeeze his son's shoulder.

"Lowbacca isn't in there-or if he is, Nolaa Tarkona's already dispatched him. I have to go in and finish setting the explosives myself." Raynar looked at him with wide eyes. His moon-round face flushed with astonishment.

"But you can't! It's dangerous in there. All that plague-"

"I know, and we can't risk letting it get out. I have to stop Nolaa Tarkona."

"We'll go with you," Zekk said. "The three of us can fight her together."

Bornan Thul stared at the hardened, dark-haired young man.

"That would risk all of us, and it's not worth the cost." He stopped to look at Raynar. "I've already put the galaxy in danger. I can't do even worse by getting you killed." He gave his son a quick hug, and Raynar clutched him tightly.

"But I just found you again, Father. Don't go in and get yourself killed.

"I don't intend to," he said. "I sincerely hope I come out alive, but I have to seal the door behind me. I can't let any of that plague get loose."

Sweat beading on his forehead, Bornan Thul gripped the blaster pistol with which he had killed the Gamorrean guard. He slid along the wall, keeping low so that he couldn't be seen through the observation windows.

Then he ducked over to the heavy door, flashing one last glance at the mournful face of his son before he slipped inside the deadly chamber. He clutched the blaster, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to fire it. Any stray bolt could easily shatter one of the plague canisters.

Thul reached up and worked the controls until the heavy airtight door hummed and moved sideways. With a hiss it slid shut, then compressed against its contamination-free doorjamb. He knew he couldn't remain hidden after all that noise, so he dashed into the forest of plague cylinders, taking shelter between the canisters.

Nolaa Tarkona cried out. "So the vermin are here at last-hoping to save themselves from the fate they deserve. Rullak, see that they don't escape!"

Boman Thul slipped between the nearest bubbling cylinders, seeking shelter. He heard the pounding feet of guards, and he shrank into the shadows. As he peered around the curve of the transparisteel cylinder, he saw Raynar's look of horror through the window above. The boy stared in at his father and the armed guards lunging toward him. Thul crouched low and scuttled between a pair of bubbling cylinders, skirted a scarlet-filled sphere, and ran down the next aisle of liquid-filled tubes. Guards charged after him.

He caught only a glimpse of burly alien forms as he wove in and out. He stopped, breathless and panting, beside a coolant station whose coils hummed with high-power efficiency. Other noisy generators pumped aeration and support systems, keeping the biological contamination viable after all these years. A blaster shot ricocheted off the floor near Thul's foot, and he realized that he was partially visible. So he got up and ran again, ducking past the edge of a huge recirculation fan that blasted sterile air in all directions, stirring the enclosed atmosphere. Its noise would cover any movement he made.

The guards were shouting now, and he heard Nolaa Tarkona also screeching orders. She was his target, Thul knew... if he could get one clean shot.

He held the blaster, always ready, in his hand. Just one clean shot, and he could remove the leader of the Diversity Alliance. No one else had Nolaa's charisma, her power. No one else could hold the disparate alien bands together, with or without the terrible plague. Taking a deep breath to marshal his courage, Boman Thul dashed toward her voice. That was the most important thing-to stop Nolaa Tarkona.

As soon as he emerged from between two large cylinders filled with burbling solution, he suddenly came upon the tentacle-faced form of Rullak, the Quarren. The amphibious creature's mouth feelers quivered, and he thrust his blaster forward.

"Shall I kill you now, or let Nolaa Tarkona do the job?"

Thul didn't pause, though. He charged forward, smashing into the Quarren, who was too startled at this reaction to fire. Rullak struggled and knocked the blaster pistol out of Thul's hand. Thul let the weapon drop, shouldered the Quarren aside, and fled as Rullak gave a phlegmy howl of anger. Thul ducked between two more cylinders. Finally, on the far side, he could see Nolaa Tarkona, fuming as she listened to the scuffle. Grim, he paused to decide how best to attack her. Then Rullak began firing at him. The angered amphibian shot indiscriminately. Blasts ricocheted off the ceiling, striking the plague cylinders and spheres all around them.

The transparisteel containers cracked. Some of the smaller cylinders shattered entirely. Deadly microbial solutions sprayed into the air.

Bornan Thul ducked, but the canister to his left split open with the flash of a blaster bolt. Plague solution sprayed toward him. He rolled and missed most of it, but still the droplets spattered over his body.

Rullak seemed to be laughing as he shot, but Nolaa Tarkona's bellow was horrible to hear.

"Stop firing, you idiot!" As the blaster fire continued, she raised her voice so loud it must have sc.r.a.ped her vocal cords raw. "Stop! There are other kinds of plague here! Plagues that could kill all of us!"

Finally the blasts ceased, and Thul pushed himself forward, panting. His breath rasped hot in his lungs. He saw Nolaa Tarkona ahead of him, and he could think only of staggering toward her. He didn't care about the other guards anymore, didn't care about Rullak or the Gamorreans or anyone else trapped in the chamber with him. He only wanted Nolaa. But as he approached her, he realized that he no longer had his blaster.

Nolaa's rose-quartz eyes blazed; her head-tail thrashed. When her lips opened in a terrible, deadly smile of pointed teeth, Thul knew he was defeated. He took deep, hitching breaths, and felt dizzy. His lungs seemed to be choked with something that kept him from drawing in enough air. His head throbbed. With each step he knew with utter certainty that he had been exposed to the plague. He turned, grasping one of the intact transparisteel cylinders for support, an irony not lost on him.

He gripped the bars on its outer casing and turned to look back at the observation window where he had just left his son and Zekk. To his dismay, Boman Thul saw Raynar's face looking back at him, stricken with absolute despair. IG-88 marched toward the central chamber with pounding metal footsteps that hammered the floor - plates like a mallet striking a bell. Lowie followed him closely, guiding the a.s.sa.s.sin droid whenever it hesitated at an intersection. IG-88 ripped aside one more sealed blockade before they reached the central chamber, arriving just in time to hear the sound of blaster fire, a vigorous battle. The huge droid picked up speed, and Lowie groaned uneasily as he raced after the metallic hulk.

"Dear me, I do hope it's nothing serious," Em Teedee said. When they reached the observation windows, Lowie took in the situation at a glance.

He saw Zekk, crouching and itching to fight. Raynar pressed his face against the observation window, not caring if he was seen. His face was filled with utter anguish. Lowie roared as he looked into the chamber, whose door was now sealed again.

Nolaa Tarkona stood surrounded by several broken cylinders. Multicolored plague liquids streamed from the containers, spilling everywhere, splashing, evaporating to suspend billions of disease organisms in the air. Worst of all, he saw Borran Thul stagger away from the cylinders, disoriented, already exposed to the deadly plague. Bornan stumbled forward, trying to reach Nolaa..

. but what the human merchant lord would do once he reached his nemesis, Lowie could not guess.

IG-88 had been commanded to a.s.sist Boman Thul, to help him or save him-and seeing the man next to Nolaa Tarkona struggling with the onset of the disease, IG-88 charged implacably toward the wall. The droid knew his programming exactly. He raised his durasteel fists. Lowie realized what the a.s.sa.s.sin droid could do. IG-88 would batter his way in, tear down the walls, breach the isolation chamber, and expose them all to the plague-filled air.

Lowie threw himself at the a.s.sa.s.sin droid, but IG-88 simply batted him away with such a blow that the young Wookiee crashed into the wall.

Raynar was too focused on his father's plight to notice.

Zekk shouted, "No! You'll flood all the corridors with the plague!"

But IG-88 paid no heed. He hammered on the wall, and bright polished dents began to appear. He would crack open the chamber in less than a minute.

RAYNAR PRESSED HIS face against the transparent barrier that separated him from his dying father. He pounded his fists against it in rage. As if imitating him, IG-88 continued pounding his powerful fists against the airtight door. The plague organism was free inside the vault - the plague that his father had hoped to destroy before it could ever be turned loose against human beings. Raynar wished he'd gone inside with his father. He might have been able to do something, use the Force to stop Rullak or Nolaa Tarkona. Or if not, at least he would be inside with his father to comfort him now in his last moments.

Raynar pressed his hands against the transparisteel, harder, harder, as if he might reach through it to his father if only he exerted enough force. At the edge of his awareness Raynar heard Zekk yell, "No, IG-88!

If you open that door you'll kill us."

Lowie roared, but the a.s.sa.s.sin droid knocked the Wookiee aside again.

Inside, Boman Thul stumbled toward the upper observation window that separated him from Raynar. His skin had a grayish cast now, and Raynar could see how labored his breathing had become. Blotches of green and blue appeared on his skin. He crawled toward the controls of the two-way intercom system in the wall. Unable to tear his eyes away from his father's agony, Raynar felt an imaginary band of durasteel clamping around his own heart, tighter, tighter, until it seemed impossible that it could go on beating.

"Go," his father rasped into the speakers. "It is too late for me."

IG-88 continued to batter at the door to the room. Lowie roared again, to no effect.

"I can't!" Raynar cried in anguish. "Not now. I just found you again."

"Never forget... how proud I am of you. My work... unfinished, though,"

Boman Thul gasped. "I leave it to you... to destroy this place-stop Nolaa." Raynar briefly shifted his attention to the Twi' lek leader of the Diversity Alliance. She stood toward the back of the vault, vainly attempting to stamp some order into the chaos inside the trashed chamber.

Rullak writhed on the floor in his death throes, succ.u.mbing to one of the deadly plagues his own blaster fire had released. Raynar knew his father was right. He could not simply give up now because of his grief. Millions of lives were at stake if Nolaa Tarkona put her plan into action.

Raynar's mother and uncle would die, and Master Skywalker, Jacen and Jaina, and everyone else he cared about. His mind railed against the injustice. It wasn't fair. His vision grew blurred and distorted, as if he was looking at his father through a current of water. Something hot and wet burned its way down Raynar's cheeks, and his throat constricted so tightly he could hardly breathe.

Suddenly Zekk was beside him yelling something to Boman Thul.