“You want help, go to your new friends upstairs,” Aves retorted. “Or maybe they were always your friends, huh?”
He was goading her, Mara knew, pushing for a chance to vent his own anger and frustration in an argument or gun battle. “I didn’t betray him, Aves,” she said. “I got picked up by the Imperials and blew them a smoke ring that I thought would buy us enough time to get out. It didn’t.”
“I don’t believe you,” Aves said flatly. There was a muffled clank of boot on metal as he came cautiously down the ramp.
“No, you believe me,” Mara shook her head. “You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t.”
She felt a breath of air on the back of her neck as he stepped close behind her. “Don’t move,” he ordered. Reaching carefully to her left arm, he pulled the sleeve down to reveal the empty holster. He checked her other sleeve, then ran a hand down each side of her body. “All right, turn around,” he said, stepping back again.
She did so. He was standing a meter away from her, his face tight, his blaster pointed at her stomach. “Turn the question around, Aves,” she suggested. “If I betrayed Karrde to the Imperials, why would I come back here? Especially alone?”
“Maybe you needed to get something from the Etherway,” he countered harshly. “Or maybe it’s just a trick to try to round up the rest of us.”
Mara braced herself. “If you really believe that,” she said quietly, “you might as well go ahead and shoot. I can’t get Karrde out of there without your help.”
For a long minute Aves stood there in silence. Mara watched his face, trying to ignore the white-knuckled hand holding the blaster. “The others won’t help you, you know,” he said. “Half of them think you’ve been manipulating Karrde from the minute you joined up. Most of the rest figure you for the type who switches loyalties twice a year anyway.”
Mara grimaced. “That was true once,” she admitted. “Not anymore.”
“You got any way to prove that?”
“Yeah—by getting Karrde out,” Mara retorted. “Look, I haven’t got time to talk. You going to help, or shoot?”
He hesitated for a handful of heartbeats. Then, almost reluctantly, he lowered the blaster until it was pointed at the ground. “I’m probably scribing my own death mark,” he growled. “What do you need?”
“For starters, a ship,” Mara said, silently letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Something smaller and faster than the Etherway. One of those three boosted Skipray blastboats we brought in from Vagran would do nicely. I’ll also need one of those ysalamiri we’ve been carrying around on the Wild Karrde. Preferably on a nutrient frame that’s portable.”
Aves frowned. “What do you want with an ysalamir?”
“I’m going to talk to a Jedi,” she said briefly. “I need a guarantee he’ll listen.”
Aves studied her a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I really don’t want to know. What else?”
Mara shook her head. “That’s it.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. How soon can you get them to me?”
Aves pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Let’s say an hour,” he said. “That big swamp about fifty kilometers north of the city—you know it?”
Mara nodded. “There’s a soggy sort of island near the eastern edge.”
“Right. You bring the Etherway to the island and we’ll do the switch there.” He glanced up at the freighter towering over him. “If you think it’s safe to move it.”
“It should be for now,” Mara said. “Thrawn told me he’d lifted all the search and detention orders for the rest of the group. But you’d better disappear anyway after I go. He’ll have the whole Fleet screaming down your necks again if and when I get Karrde out. Better run a fine-edge scan on the Etherway before you take it anywhere, though—there has to be a homing beacon aboard for Thrawn to have gotten the jump on me the way he did.” She felt her lip twitch. “And knowing Thrawn, he’s probably got someone tailing me, too. I’ll have to get rid of him before I leave the planet.”
“I can give you a hand with that,” Aves said grimly. “We’re disappearing anyway, right?”
“Right.” Mara paused, trying to think if there was anything else she needed to tell him. “I guess that’s it. Let’s get going.”
“Right.” Aves hesitated. “I still don’t know whose side you’re on, Mara. If you’re on ours … good luck.”
She nodded, feeling a hard lump settle into her throat. “Thanks.”
Two hours later she was strapped into the Skipray’s cockpit, a strange and unpleasant sense of déjà vu burning through her as she drove toward deep space. It had been in a ship just like this one that she’d screamed off into the sky over the Myrkr forest a few weeks ago, in hot pursuit of an escaped prisoner. Now, like a twisted repeat of history, she once again found herself chasing after Luke Skywalker.
Only this time, she wasn’t trying to kill or capture him. This time, she was going to plead for his help.
CHAPTER
20
The last pair of villagers detached themselves from the group standing at the back wall and made their way toward the raised judgment seat. C’baoth stood there, watching them come; and then, as Luke had known he would, the Jedi Master stood up. “Jedi Skywalker,” he said, gesturing Luke to the seat. “The final case of the evening is yours.”
“Yes, Master C’baoth,” Luke said, bracing himself as he stepped over and gingerly sat down. It was, to his mind, a thoroughly uncomfortable chair: too warm, too large, and far too ornate. Even more than the rest of C’baoth’s home, it had an alien smell to it, and a strangely disturbing aura that Luke could only assume was a lingering aftereffect of the hours the Jedi Master had spent in it judging his people.
Now it was Luke’s turn to do so.
Taking a deep breath, trying to push back the fatigue that had become a permanent part of him, he nodded at the two villagers. “I’m ready,” he said. “Please begin.”
It was a relatively simple case, as such things went. The first villager’s livestock had gotten through the second’s fence and had stripped half a dozen of his fruit bushes before they’d been discovered and driven back. The animals’ owner was willing to pay compensation for the ruined bushes, but the second was insisting that he also rebuild the fence. The first countered that a properly built fence wouldn’t have failed in the first place and that, furthermore, his livestock had suffered injuries from the sharp edges as they went through. Luke sat quietly and let them talk, waiting until the arguments and counterarguments finally ended.
“All right,” he said. “In the matter of the fruit bushes themselves, my judgment is that you”—he nodded to the first villager—“will pay for the replacement of those damaged beyond repair, plus an additional payment to compensate for the fruit eaten or destroyed by your livestock. The latter amount will be determined by the village council.”
Beside him C’baoth stirred, and Luke winced at the disapproval he could sense from the Jedi Master. For a second he floundered, wondering if he should back up and try a different solution. But changing his mind so abruptly didn’t sound like a good thing to do. And anyway, he really didn’t have any better ideas.
So what was he doing here?
He looked around the room, fighting against a sudden flush of nervousness. They were all looking at him: C’baoth, the two supplicants, the rest of the villagers who’d come tonight for Jedi judgment. All of them expecting him to make the right decision.
“As to the fence, I’ll examine it tomorrow morning,” he continued. “I want to see how badly it was damaged before I make my decision.”
The two men bowed and backed away. “I therefore declare this session to be closed,” C’baoth called. His voice echoed grandly, despite the relatively small size of the room. An interesting effect, and Luke found himself wondering if it was a trick of the room’s acoustics or yet another Jedi technique that Master Yoda had never taught him. Though why he would ever need such a technique he couldn’t imagine.
The last of the villagers filed out of the room. C’baoth cleared his throat; reflexively, Luke braced himself. “I sometimes wonder, Jedi Skywalker,” the old man said gravely, “whether or not you have really been listening to me these past few days.”