[Han Solo] - 03(111)

It was so quiet. Even the scraping and peeping of the Ylesian jungle was gone. There was no wind at all.

SalPivo forced himself not to blink as he waited. When the brilliant orange flame flowered from the t’landa Til’s sleeping chamber, there was a moment before the sound reached him, and he thought, It doesn’t seem real….

Then the crack and boom rolled over him, almost knocking him down, followed by the cries and wails of the remaining inhabitants. Job well done, he said to himself, chuckling. I’ll be back on Poytta before the fire’s put out….

“We sacrifice to achieve the All. We serve the One.” ˇ . . serve the One.

The Rodian named Sniquux sniffed the air thoughtfully, his aqua snout wigglingˇ Mid-afternoon sun slanted down into the wide courtyard, and dust seemed to hang in the hot, thick air. With infinite care, he secured the last strand of monofilament fiber across the opening of the passageway to the factory compound. Colony Nine was not yet finished, but the main buildings and dormitories were close enough to completion to start up operation. Nearly three hundred Pilgrims were resident, most of them employed on the construction gang. Sniquux had come in with the last bunch, his experience as a permacrete artisan coming in handy.

Here they come! The Rodian stepped back from the invisible wire, then ducked under it, making sure he came nowhere near the deadly stuff.

Once in the corridor, he made his way up to the first level balcony, which overlooked the courtyard. The six t’landa Til, three males and three females, were returning from their post-siesta walkabout, ambling toward the dinner hall and their supperˇ A cadre of Gamorrean guards surrounded them, their axe heads glinting in the sun. Sniquux pulled the sound projector remote control from his little pouch, hefting the device and feeling the smoothness of its contours.

I don’t even have to get near them, he thought, delightedly. I love this assignment. I don’t have to risk my delicate little neck. His ears twitched expectantly as he turned the dial to its maximum position and engaged the trigger.

Suddenly, from the other side of the courtyard, a hideous, shrill wailing began, a sound so high it made Sniquux shiver. It was an ancient recording of the savage thota, the principal predator of the t’landa Til on their long-lost homeworld of Varl.

The t’landa Til froze for a second, their protuberant eyes swinging in every direction as they tried to locate the source of the cry. The head Sacredot, Tarrz by name, reared up onto his hind limbs and spun about, calling to the others, but it was no use. The huge creatures stampeded mindlessly in all directions, trampling Gamorreans as they headed for the openings in the courtyard wall that Sniquux had booby-trapped. Finally even Tarrz panicked and dashed for the nearest exit.

The Rodian, who had a taste for bloodshed, smacked his prehensile lips as the Priests came apart, monofilament slicing them more cleanly then any blade. Tarrz got halfway through the opening before his upper torso peeled back, revealing the dark maroon interior, internal organs laid out side by side, blood pooling and spilling as he fell to complete the gash. In a trice, they were all dead, big pools of wine-red blood slowly spreading around the quartered corpses, and only a few dazed Gamorreans were left to try to figure out what had happened.

Maybe this’ll mean a promotion, Sniquux told himself. Jabba seems to like me already … all I have to do is stick with him ….

“Prepare for the blessing of Exultation!” Pohtarza took a step forward and sensed the Priests on either side of him doing the same. The Pilgrims broke ranks, pressing forward, falling over one another, uttering little whimpers of anticipation. Pohtarza began to inflate his neck pouch, scanning the expectant faces, when something caught his eye. There was a humanoid Pilgrim pushing toward them, nothing unusual about that. However, instead of a Pilgrim’s cap, there was a dark hood thrown over his head.

Pohtarza stared in fascination. The hood was empty. The thing was quite close now—he was sure of it. Suddenly the hood fell back and the headless thing pulled a weapon out of its robe. Nameless dread gnawed at the t’landa Til; he took a few steps back, bumped into one of his brothers.

The robe fell to the ground, and the Sacredot looked straight into the muzzle of a blaster, seemingly floating in the air. His thinking seemed fuzzy and oh-so-slow, but one thought came with crystal clarity. Oh.

An Aar’aa. Just an Aar’aa …

Then brightness fell from the air ….

At Colony One, the oldest and largest of the Ylesian facilities, only a few moments later, it was nearing mid-day. Teroenza sat in the shallow, squishy mud like a beached whaladon, hardly moving, eyes closed. The developments of the last day were discouraging beyond belief.