Chewbacca was poking around the lower part of the cavity now. Leia watched as he pulled several cylinders out of the tangle, examined their markings, and returned them to their places. The crowd was starting to murmur again when, with a satisfied murmur of his own, he pulled out a large cylinder and slender needle from near the intake hopper.
Gingerly, Leia took the cylinder from him. It shouldn’t be dangerous to her, but there was no point in taking chances. “I call on the dynasts to bear witness that this cylinder was indeed taken from the inside of this machine,” she called to the crowd.
“Is this your proof?” Ir’khaim asked, eyeing the cylinder doubtfully.
“It is,” Leia nodded. “I have said that these plants are not the kholm-grass you remember from before the disaster. But I have not yet said what is different about them.” Picking up one of the plants, she held it up for them to see. “The Emperor’s scientists took your kholm-grass and changed it,” she told the crowd. “They created differences that would breed true between generations. The altered smell you have noticed is caused by a chemical which the stem, roots, and leaves secrete. A chemical which has one purpose only: to inhibit the growth of all other plant life. The machines that the Grand Admiral claims are cleaning the ground are in fact doing nothing but destroying this special kholm-grass which the Empire planted.”
“Your truth is again dreams,” Vor’corkh scoffed. “The droid machines require nearly two tens of days to cleanse a single pirkha of land. My daughters could destroy the kholm-grass there in one.”
Leia smiled grimly. “Perhaps the machines don’t require as much time as it appears. Let’s find out.” Holding the kholm-grass out in front of her, she eased a drop of pale liquid from the tip of the needle and touched it to the stem.
It was as dramatic a demonstration as she could have hoped for. The drop soaked through the dull brown surface of the plant, and for a handful of seconds nothing seemed to happen. There was a faint sizzling sound; and then, without warning, the plant suddenly began to turn black and wither. There was a hissing gasp from the crowd as the patch of catalytic destruction spread along the stem toward the leaves and roots. Leia held it up a moment longer, then dropped it on the terrace. There it lay, writhing like a dry branch thrown into a fire, until there was nothing left but a short and unrecognizable filament of wrinkled black. Leia touched it tentatively with the toe of her boot, and it disintegrated into a fine powder.
She had expected another outburst of surprise or outrage from the crowd. Their dead silence was in its own way more unnerving than any noise would have been. The Noghri understood the implications of the demonstration, all right.
And as she looked around at their faces, she knew that she’d won.
She put the cylinder down on the terrace beside the destroyed plant and turned to face the dynasts. “I have shown you my proof,” she said. “You must now decide whether the Noghri debt has been paid.”
She looked at Vor’corkh; and moved by an impulse she couldn’t explain, she unhooked her lightsaber from her belt and put it in his hand. Stepping past him, she went over to Khabarakh. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t expect for you to have to go through anything like this because of me.”
Khabarakh opened his mouth in a needle-toothed Noghri smile. “The Empire has long taught us that it is a warrior’s pride and duty to face pain for his overlord. Should I do less for the Mal’ary’ush of the Lord Vader?”
Leia shook her head. “I’m not your overlord, Khabarakh, and I never will be. The Noghri are a free people. I came only to try to restore that freedom to you.”
“And to bring us on your side against the Empire,” Vor’corkh said caustically from behind her.
Leia turned. “That would be my wish,” she agreed. “But I do not ask it.”
Vor’corkh studied her a moment. Then, reluctantly, he handed her lightsaber back to her. “The dynasts of Honoghr cannot and will not make so important a decision in a single day,” he said. “There is much to consider, and a full convocate of the Noghri people must be called.”
“Then call it,” Khabarakh urged. “The Mal’ary’ush of the Lord Vader is here.”
“And can the Mal’ary’ush protect us from the might of the Empire, should we choose to defy it?” Vor’corkh countered.
“But—”
“No, Khabarakh, he’s right,” Leia said. “The Empire would rather kill you all than let you defect or even become neutral.”
“Have the Noghri forgotten how to fight?” Khabarakh scoffed.
“And has Khabarakh clan Kihm’bar forgotten what happened to Honoghr forty-eight years ago?” Vor’corkh snapped. “If we defy the Empire now, we would have no option but to leave our world and hide.”
“And doing that would guarantee the instant slaughter of the commando teams that are out serving the Empire,” Leia pointed out to Khabarakh. “Would you have them die without even knowing the reason? There is no honor in that.”
“You speak wisdom, Lady Vader,” Vor’corkh said, and for the first time Leia thought she could detect a trace of grudging respect in his eyes. “True warriors understand the value of patience. You will leave us now?”
“Yes,” Leia nodded. “My presence here is still a danger to you. I would ask one favor: that you would allow Khabarakh to return me to my ship.”
Vor’corkh looked at Khabarakh. “Khabarakh’s family conspired to free him,” he said. “They succeeded, and he escaped into space. Three commando teams who were here on leave have followed in pursuit. The entire clan Kihm’bar will be in disgrace until they yield up the names of those responsible.”
Leia nodded. It was as good a story as any. “Just be sure to warn the commandos you send to be careful when they make contact with the other teams. If even a hint of this gets back to the Empire, they’ll destroy you.”
“Do not presume to tell warriors their job,” Vor’corkh retorted. He hesitated. “Can you obtain more of this for us?” he asked, gesturing back at the cylinder.
“Yes,” Leia said. “We’ll need to go to Endor first and pick up my ship. Khabarakh can accompany me back to Coruscant then and I’ll get him a supply.”
The dynast hesitated. “There is no way to bring it sooner?”
A fragment of conversation floated up from Leia’s memory: the maitrakh, mentioning that the window for planting this season’s crops was almost closed. “There might be,” she said. “Khabarakh, how much time would we save if we skipped Endor and went directly to Coruscant?”
“Approximately four days, Lady Vader,” he said.
Leia nodded. Han would kill her for leaving his beloved Falcon sitting in orbit at Endor like that, but there was no way around it. “All right,” she nodded. “That’s what we’ll do, then. Don’t forget to be careful where you use it, though—you can’t risk incoming Imperial ships spotting new cropland.”
“Do not presume, either, to tell farmers their job,” Vor’corkh said; but this time there was a touch of dry humor in his voice. “We will eagerly await its arrival.”
“Then we’d better leave at once,” Leia said. She looked past him to the maitrakh, and nodded her head in thanks. Finally—finally—everything was starting to go their way. Despite her earlier doubts, the Force was clearly with her.
Turning back to Khabarakh, she ignited her lightsaber and cut him loose from his chains. “Come on, Khabarakh,” she said. “Time to go.”
CHAPTER
25
The Coral Vanda billed itself as the most impressive casino in the galaxy … and as he looked around the huge and ornate Tralla Room, Han could understand why he’d never heard of anyone challenging that claim.
The room had at least a dozen sabacc tables scattered around its three half-levels, plus a whole range of lugjack bars, tregald booths, holo-chess tables, and even a few of the traditional horseshoe-shaped warp-tops favored by hard-core crinbid fanatics. A bar bisecting the room stocked most anything a customer would want to drink, either to celebrate a win or forget a loss, and there was a serving window built into the back wall for people who didn’t want to stop playing even to eat.
And when you got tired of looking at your cards or into your glass, there was the view through the full-wall transparent outer hull. Rippling blue-green water, hundreds of brilliantly colored fish and small sea mammals; and around all of it the intricate winding loops and fans of the famous Pantolomin coral reefs.
The Tralla Room was, in short, as fine a casino as Han had ever seen in his life … and the Coral Vanda had seven other rooms just like it.
Sitting at the bar beside him, Lando downed the last of his drink and pushed the glass away from him. “So what now?” he asked.
“He’s here, Lando,” Han told him, tearing his gaze from the reef outside and looking one more time around the casino. “Somewhere.”
“I think he’s skipped this trip,” Lando disagreed. “Probably ran out of money. Remember what Sena said—the guy spends it like poisoned water.”
“Yeah, but if he was out of money he’d be trying to sell them another ship,” Han pointed out. He drained his own glass and got up from his seat. “Come on—one more room to go.”