“I’m not sure. But the purpose can only be an evil one.”
The maitrakh dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lady Vader. I would help you if I could.”
Leia reached over to touch the Noghri’s shoulder. “I know.”
The maitrakh looked up at the genealogy chart. “I sent all four of my sons into danger, Lady Vader. To the Emperor’s battles. It never becomes easier to watch them go forth to war and death.”
Leia thought of all her allies and companions who had died in the long war. “I’ve sent friends to their deaths,” she said quietly. “That was hard enough. I can’t imagine sending my children.”
“Three of them died,” the maitrakh continued, almost as if talking to herself. “Far from home, with none but their companions to mourn them. The fourth became a cripple, and returned home to live his shortened life in the silent despair of dishonor before death released him.”
Leia grimaced. And now, as the cost for helping her, Khabarakh was facing both dishonor and death—
The line of thought paused. “Wait a minute. You said all four of your sons went to war? And that all four have since died?”
The maitrakh nodded. “That is correct.”
“But then what about Khabarakh? Isn’t he also your son?”
“He is my thirdson,” the maitrakh said, a strange expression on her face. “A son of the son of my firstson.”
Lela looked at her, a sudden horrible realization flashing through her. If Khabarakh was not her son but instead her great-grandson; and if the maitrakh had personally witnessed the space battle that had brought destruction on Honoghr : “Maitrakh, how long has your world been like this?” she breathed. “How many years?”
The Noghri stared at her, clearly sensing the sudden change in mood. “Lady Vader, what have I said-?”
“How many years?”
The maitrakh twitched away from her. “Forty-eight Noghri years,” she said. “In years of the Emperor, forty-four.”
Leia put her hand against the smooth wood of the genealogy chart, her knees suddenly feeling weak with shock. Forty-four years. Not the five or eight or even ten that she’d assumed. Forty-four. “It didn’t happen during the Rebellion,” she heard herself say. “It happened during the Clone Wars.”
And suddenly the shock gave way to a wall of blazing white anger. “Forty-four years, she snarled. “They’ve held you like this for forty-four years?”
She spun to face the door. “Chewie!” she called, for the moment not caring who might hear her. “Chewie, get in here!”
A hand gripped her shoulder, and she turned back around to find the maitrakh gazing at her, an unreadable expression on her alien face. “Lady Vader, you will tell me what is the matter.”
“Forty-four years, maitrakh, is what’s the matter,” Leia told her. The fiery heat of her anger was fading, leaving behind an icy resolve. “They’ve held you in slavery for almost half a century. Lying through their teeth to you, cheating you, murdering your sons.” She jabbed a finger down toward the ground beneath their feet. “That is not forty-four years’ worth of decontamination work. And if they aren’t just cleaning the dirt-There was a heavy footstep at the door and Chewbacca charged in, bowcaster at the ready. He saw Leia, roared a question as his weapon swung to cover the maitrakh.
“I’m not in danger, Chewie,” Leia told him. “Just very angry. I need you to get me some more samples from the contaminated area. Not soil this time: some of the kholm-grass.”
She could see the surprise in the Wookie’s face. But he merely growled an acknowledgment and left. “Why do you wish to examine the kholm grass?” the maitrakh asked.
“You said yourself it smelled different than before the rains came,” Leia reminded her. “I think there may be a connection here we’ve missed.”
“What connection could there be?”
Leia shook her head. “I don’t want to say anything more right now, maitrakh. Not until I’m sure.”
“Do you still wish to go to Nystao?”
“More than ever,” Leia said grimly. “But not to hit and run. If Chewie’s samples show what I think they will, I’m going to go straight to the dynasts.”
“What if they refuse to listen?”
Leia took a deep breath. “They can’t refuse,” she said. “You’ve already lost three generations of your sons. You can’t afford to lose any more.
For a minute the Noghri gazed at her in silence. “You speak truth,” she said. She hissed softly between her needle teeth, and with her usual fluid grace moved toward the door. “I will return within the hour,” she said over her shoulder. “Will you be ready to leave then?”