In the midst of such poverty and hardship, Jaina Solo felt more than a little guilty eating green thakitillo, but it was the only thing on the menu tonight. Tomorrow, it would be brot-rib or krayt eggs or some other rarity more suitable to a state dinner than a field post, and she would eat that, too. The Taat would be insulted if she did not.
Jaina spooned a curd into her mouth, then glanced around the veranda at her companions. They were all seated on primitive spitcrete benches, holding their bowls in their laps and using small Force bubbles to keep the dust at bay. Despite the gritty winds raised by the tidal pull of Qoribu-Jwlio’s ringed gas giant primary-the group usually took their meals outdoors. No one wanted to spend more time than necessary in the muggy confines of the nest caves.
After the curd had dissolved, Jaina tapped her spoon against the bowl. “Okay,” she asked. “Who’s responsible for this?”
One by one, the others raised their gazes, their faces betraying various degrees of culpability as they examined their thoughts over the last week or so. Shortly after arriving, the team had discovered that whenever they talked about a particular food, the
Taat would have a supply delivered within a few days. Concerned about squandering their hosts’ limited resources, Jaina had ordered the group to avoid talking about food in front of the Taat, then to avoid mentioning it at all.
Finally, Tesar Sebatyne flicked up a talon. “It may have been this one.”
“May have been?” Jaina asked. “Either you said something or you didn’t.”
Tesar’s dorsal scales rose in the Barabel equivalent of a blush. “This one said nothing. He thought it.”
“They can’t eavesdrop on thoughts,” Jaina said. “Someone else must have slipped.”
She glanced around the group, waiting. The others continued to search their memories, but no one recalled talking about food.
Finally, Zekk said, “I’m just happy it’s thakitillo instead of some skalrat or something.” Seated on a bench next to Jaina, he wore his black hair as long and ragged as he had in his youth, but that was all that remained the same. A late growth spurt had turned him into something of a human giant, standing two meters tall, with shoulders as broad as Lowbacca’s. “I thought Barabels liked to catch their own food.”
“When we can, but this one was thinking of our last meal aboard Lady Luck, and he alwayz tastes thakitillo when he rememberz Bela and Krasov and…” Tesar trailed off and glanced briefly in Jaina’s direction, quietly acknowledging the bond of grief they had come to share through the Myrkr mission. “… the otherz.”
Even that gentle reminder of her brother’s death-even seven years later-brought a pained hollow to Jaina’s chest. Usually, her duties as a Jedi Knight kept her too busy to dwell on such things, but there were still moments like these, when the terrible memory came crashing down on her like a Nkllonian firestorm.
“So maybe the Taat are eavesdropping on our thoughts,” Tahiti said, bringing Jaina’s attention back to the present. “If we’re sure no one said anything, that has to be it.”
Lowbacca let out a long Wookiee moan.
“I suppose we will have to avoid thinking about food,” Jaina agreed. “We’re Jedi. We can’t keep eating like Hurts while the Taat larvae starve.”
“It certainly takes the fun out of it,” Alema Rar agreed. The Twi’lek slipped a spoonful of thakitillo into her mouth, then bit into a curd and curled the tips of the long lekku hanging down her back. “Well, most of the fun.”
Zekk ate a spoonful, then asked, “Does it bother anyone that they’re listening to our thoughts?”
“It should,” Jaina replied. “We should feel a little uneasy and violated, shouldn’t we?”
Alema shrugged. “Should is for narrow minds. It makes me feel welcome. “
Jaina considered this for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Same here-and valued. Zekk? You brought it up.”
“Just asking,” he said. “Doesn’t bother me, either.”
“I feel the same,” Tekli agreed. The furry little Chadra-Fan twitched her thick-ended snout. “Yet we avoid the battle-meld now because we dislike sharing feelings among ourselves.”
“That’s different,” Tahiri said. “We get on each other’s nerves.”
“To put it mildly,” Jaina said. “I’ll never forget how that blood hunger came over me the first time Tesar saw a rallop.”
“Or how twisted inside this one felt when Alema wanted to nest with that Rodian rope-wrestler.” Tesar fluttered his scales, then added, “It was a week before he could hunt again.”