The Emperor's Plague

15

Back in the tunnels on Ryloth, Luke Skywalker had to admit that the Diversity Alliance had done a good job of sanitizing its operation. Kambrea surrounded herself with armed soldiers to match the New Republic honor guard. All business, eager to get rid of her unwanted visitors, the Devaronian led them through a large Twi’lek city and spoke of how the once-bloodthirsty race had risen above violence to form peaceful collectives.

The inspection team stood in a vast cavern hollowed from the mountain’s heart. The rubble itself had been used to construct tall buildings like warrens hugging the grotto walls. Twi’lek families and clans lived and worked inside the stone-walled dwellings, going about the shadowy business of Ryloth—much of which was now devoted to promoting and assisting the Diversity Alliance.

Luke watched everything, absorbing details. The Calamarian ambassador Cilghal stood next to him, also observing, though he could not read any expression on her fishlike face. Kur, the exiled clan leader, spent most of his time staring at the floor, as if afraid to gaze at the cave city. Trubor, the Chadra Fan senator, seemed impressed by Twi’lek society. The rodentlike creature scuttled around, making appreciative noises every time Kambrea pointed out newly erected dwellings, prisons that punished corrupt slavers who had once captured Twi’lek females renowned for their dancing skills. Nolaa Tarkona’s own half sister Oola had been sold as a dancing girl and killed by Jabba the Hutt. The underground commerce in sentient beings had now been halted.

Kambrea turned her homed head to Luke Skywalker. “So you see, the Diversity Alliance takes a stance, not just against human oppression, but against oppression in all its forms.”

“Very admirable,” Luke said, but made no other comment. Lusa and Sirra followed the group, remaining together. The centaur girl was skittish, barely able to face her fear at being in the realm of her greatest enemy. She was immensely relieved that Nolaa herself was not there to confront them. However, the question remained as to where the Twi’lek leader was, and what she was up to.

Luke noticed the hateful sidelong glances Kambrea flashed at both Lusa and the young Wookiee girl. The Diversity Alliance did not tolerate betrayal: a Bothan assassin had already tried to kill Lusa on Yavin 4, and though the alien soldier insisted he had no connection with the Diversity Alliance, Luke could sense otherwise.

Kur followed meekly, offering no commentary. He seemed ashamed to set foot in the cliffside cities again, though occasionally he looked longingly at the tall rock-walled buildings and the hardworking people that had once been part of his clan. The Twi’leks looked down at him with cold hatred. They despised Kur—but Luke couldn’t tell whether it was because he had been banished … or because he had failed them and let Nolaa Tarkona take over.

After a day of being shown the glories of Twi’lek civilization and all the changes Nolaa Tarkona had wrought, Senator Trubor whined in exasperation.

“I see no evidence of all the horrors those children claimed,” he said. “The New Republic is a diverse group of worlds, with many species—not just humans, but Chadra Fan and Calamarians and Wookiees and all manner of intelligent races. I am insulted that Chief of State Organa Solo would pit us against each other so soon after we formed our government and drove out the hated Empire—the human Empire, I might add.”

“I won’t argue with you the terrible nature of the Empire,” Cilghal said calmly. “But we must continue to look. Remember, we are seeing only what Kambrea wishes to show us.”

As Sirra growled, Lusa added her own comment with a snort. “Yes, we need to see the ryll mines. Take us to where slaves excavate the mineral for Diversity Alliance profit. Then we’ll see what Nolaa Tarkona’s really doing.”

Kambrea brushed nervously at one of her curved horns, then let out a long sigh.

“The ryll mines are in a different portion of the mountains, but we can take our tunnel transport system, if you really insist on seeing them.”

“We insist,” Luke said. “This is an inspection team, not a guided walk for tourists.”

Kambrea sighed again.

“Come with me.” She looked over her shoulder, fixing a cold glance on Lusa. Then she returned to Cilghal and Trubor with a more placid expression. “Remember, though, it’s an industrial area for rock excavations. It’s not pretty—but you’ll see that we have no captive humans. All of our workers are willing laborers.” She laughed, and the sound made it clear that Kambrea was not accustomed to laughing. “Certainly not slaves!”

They boarded a high-speed transport train that shot them southward beneath the spine of mountains. As they held on to their seats, the New Republic honor guard looked nervous: this would be a perfect place for an ambush, if the Diversity Alliance decided to turn against them. The alien guards seemed just as uneasy as the humans, though, finding themselves in the awkward position of having to question their own prejudices. When the high-speed train stopped, the air grew colder, picking up a breeze from increased air circulation. The glowpanels overhead flickered, then grew brighter. Kambrea looked up to the rocky ceiling, where conduits rose upward through sloped tunnels to the mountain peaks high above.

“A heat storm just passed over the surface,” she said. “We receive most of our power and air circulation from wind turbines erected on the twilight borderline. The shifting temperatures create the terrible storms that drive our turbines.”

“We know,” Lusa said. “Our friends were trapped outside in one of those storms after they escaped from slavery in your ryll mines.”

Kur stepped forward. “Yes, I rescued them out in the cold, and took them to where their ship could take them away from your oppression.”

Kambrea looked at them coldly. “So you say.”

The Diversity Alliance soldiers grumbled, and the human guards reached for their weapons, ready to fight. Cilghal raised her flipper hands. “So let us see the mines. We wish to inspect the work conditions there.”

Kambrea hesitated, then turned, ignoring the previous exchange. She led them into a large cavern where scores of Twi’leks were busily hammering out chunks of rock, seeking veins of the precious mineral buried deep in the mountain. The Rodian crew boss stood around waving his sucker-tipped fingers and giving orders. Luke saw the large polished eyes, the narrow flexible snout, and the warty head; he remembered the inept bounty hunter Greedo who had tried to capture Han Solo in the Mos Eisley cantina. Luke hoped all Rodians weren’t so gullible. This shift boss seemed to be doing a good job keeping his workers in line. Twi’leks scurried over the walls using sonic hammers; others dangled from the ceiling in harnesses as they chipped away at fungus-covered stalactites.

“They’re all Twi’leks!” Lusa said in astonishment.

“Of course,” Kambrea answered, “volunteer labor from the cliff cities. Ask any one of them—they work here and get paid well. In fact, people wait in line for this opportunity.” She laughed again in her broken-glass chuckle. “We have no need to take slaves. Besides, Twi’leks work harder than weakling humans, especially human children.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Trubor squeaked, putting his hands on his tiny hips. He perked his wide, fanlike ears around as if listening for hidden prisoners, cries for help. “There is nothing the least bit suspicious in all these tunnels. I, for one, must say that Nolaa Tarkona’s concerns about of human prejudice and intolerance seem to have a very firm grounding—especially with what the New Republic has demonstrated here.”

Luke used his Jedi senses, but could detect no struggling human prisoners. He hoped that Nolaa Tarkona hadn’t ordered their immediate execution upon learning of the inspection team’s visit.

“Is there nothing else we can show you?” Kambrea said.

“Yes!” Lusa snapped. “Show us everything you have hidden.”

The Diversity Alliance guards stiffened, but Cilghal proved calmer. She turned to Sirra. “Is there anything specific you suggest?”

Sirra growled something, a suggestion, and the Calamarian ambassador turned to Kambrea.

“You wouldn’t mind if we looked at your loading dock, would you?”

“Certainly not,” the Devaronian answered with a huff. “As I’ve said repeatedly, we have nothing to hide.”

Luke’s senses prickled as Kambrea led them to one of the main shipping and receiving bays. Stacks of crates stood tall against one wall. Bulky alien workers and numerous droids lifted the crates, catalogued them, and loaded them into small transports.

“You see,” Kambrea said with a gesture, “food and medicinal supplies for alien colonies, settlement worlds the New Republic has abandoned.”

“Very commendable,” Cilghal said.

Trubor emphasized the point further.

“The New Republic cannot help every world, though we wish we could. The Diversity Alliance serves a good purpose by assisting those we cannot.” Sirra growled curiously as she strode over to the wall of crates.

Luke watched her carefully. The Wookiee seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Kambrea said, intent on Trubor. “There’s nothing to warrant the treatment we have received. We trust you’ll return to your New Republic and report our displeasure to your government.”

Sirra gave a challenging bellow. As everyone turned to look, she balled her furry fist and punched in the side of a supply crate marked FRAGILE: MEDICINAL SUPPLIES—URGENT. The container split open. Kambrea yelped in astonishment, and Sirra stood back as the crate cracked, groaned, and then spilled packaged blaster power-packs and handheld laser rifles out onto the floor. At that point, all chaos broke loose.