The Emperor's Plague

8

The New Republic inspection team arrived in a heavily armed escort frigate, flanked by ceremonial squadrons of X-wing and B-wing fighters. The starfighters were supposedly just for show, but Leia Organa Solo wanted to make it clear that she meant business and would tolerate no delays or resistance from the Diversity Alliance. Given the serious nature of the charges that had been brought, Leia refused to waste time on political games.

Standing on the bridge of the escort frigate, Luke Skywalker looked down at the harsh, mountainous planet of Ryloth. The Twi’leks lived in excavated tunnels and cliff cities in a band of twilight between the baking day and the frozen night. The inspection team would tour Ryloth’s cities, searching for any evidence of Nolaa Tarkona’s misdeeds. Beside the Jedi Master, Lusa stamped a forehoof nervously. The centaur girl had twice escaped from the clutches of the Diversity Alliance. They had brainwashed her, taught her to hate all humans. She was loath to return, but believed it was her responsibility.

Lowbacca’s sister Sirrakuk growled quiet encouragement; she herself had been taken in by the Diversity Alliance before she broke away and helped the young Jedi Knights escape. Kur, the exiled Twi’lek leader, kept silent watch at the bridge windowports. As he stared down at the swirling coppery colors of the blazing daylit hemisphere, his head-tails twitched. Luke sensed that for Kur there could be no happy homecoming. Kur had been defeated by Nolaa Tarkona, though she had refused to let him die, as was the tradition of vanquished head-clan members. Instead, she had sent him out to survive in the glacial cold of night. Now, he was returning, accompanied by humans and New Republic soldiers.

The small bat-faced Chadra Fan senator, Trubor, marched haughtily up to Luke, his squeaky voice indignant.

“Jedi Master Skywalker, you had best hope we find substantial evidence to back up the accusations of those young troublemakers.” He put his small hands on his narrow hips. His triangular ears swiveled from side to side to pick up subsonic vibrations. Wide nostrils flaring, he blinked his tiny black eyes. “I’ve long known that Chief of State Organa Solo was concerned about the agenda of the Diversity Alliance, but it is not for the New Republic to make judgments on what beliefs people should or should not hold.”

“I agree,” Luke said, “but we must take action if an extremist group has kidnapped innocent hostages, taken slaves, and threatened to spread a plague so powerful it could wipe out an entire species.”

With a tiny furred hand, Trubor rubbed his forehead in disbelief. “That story is as ridiculous as the propaganda the Empire used to spread.”

“We’ll see soon enough,” Luke answered in a mild tone that nonetheless held power and conviction. He turned to find even-tempered Ambassador Cilghal, whom he had trained at the Jedi academy, by his side. A Mon Calamarian like Admiral Ackbar, Cilghal had huge fishlike eyes and a salmon-colored head. She spoke calmly, looking down at the Chadra Fan senator.

“I intend to keep an open mind. I will observe with my own eyes, and no one—not you, not Master Skywalker—will tell me my opinion. I will decide for myself, as I hope you will do.”

“Of course, of course,” Trubor said. He waved his hands, then scurried off the bridge, somewhat flustered. A signal chimed on the escort frigate’s comm system, and the glowering image of a female Devaronian flickered to life on the hologenerator. Her horns were polished and decorated with what appeared to be golden glitter. Though she spoke with forced amiability, her eyes were hard and suspicious.

“Welcome, representatives of the New Republic. I am Kambrea. Although your worries are completely groundless, we will bow to your demands and allow you to scrutinize our private cities.”

Luke stepped forward into the range of the hologenerator. “When may we schedule an audience with Nolaa Tarkona? We would like to discuss certain matters with her.”

“The Esteemed Tarkona was called away on urgent business, and I have been left in charge.” She huffed. “An important political movement such as the Diversity Alliance cannot grind to a halt simply because a handful of human children decided to make up stories about us.”

Cilghal now stepped forward and spoke in quiet, calming tones. “It is the nature of justice that we must investigate any accusation of such magnitude.”

“Perhaps you should investigate crimes committed by humans with the same zeal,” Kambrea snapped.

“A crime is a crime, no matter who commits it. I assure you we will be impartial and study the facts. Will you escort us, or shall we find our own way around Ryloth?” Cilghal said, sliding smoothly into a change of subject.

“I’ll transmit a homing beacon to one of our main cities,” Kambrea said. “I will meet you there. Follow the beacon precisely, or you risk activating our planetary defense systems.” Immediately on the heels of this veiled threat, she switched off.

Luke piloted the transport shuttle from the escort cruiser. The shuttle bore an equal mixture of humans and aliens acting as New Republic escort guards. Lusa, Sirra, and Kur went with him, as did Cilghal, Senator Trubor, and the other members of the inspection team. When he passed from the daylight side over into the dark, cold night, Luke fought against the turbulence caused by extreme temperature variations. Around him, team members peered out the viewports, awed by the dramatic landscape, where hot, blurry whirlwinds of heat storms whipped across the border into the night and blasted ice from cracks in the frozen mountains. The peaks looked like a dragon’s spine. The beacon directed Luke’s shuttle to the mouth of a vast cave in one of the main cities the Twi’leks had built in ancient times. By Ryloth’s standards, the cliff city was a huge metropolis.

The shuttle landed in a high-ceilinged grotto where various other ships were docked: unmarked supply craft, small personal vehicles, massive ore haulers for ryll mining activities. Kambrea came out to meet them, surrounded by a cadre of heavily armed and surly-looking guards—piglike Gamorreans, white-furred Talz, and a brutish, one-eyed Abyssin.

Odd, Luke thought. Nolaa Tarkona’s group includes no Twi’leks, even though this is their own world. Perhaps in her takeover, Nolaa Tarkona had killed most of those who had previously wielded power. People like Kur.

“We’re here to cooperate.” Kambrea’s brittle voice broke into Luke’s thoughts. “But this is not a holiday outing. Simply tell us what you need to see, and we will show you. You’ll quickly realize that your government’s accusations are baseless. We view this visit as a form of harassment—a punishment because our politics do not agree with those espoused by your Chief of State.”

“Believe me,” Trubor said, “we will be open-minded and fair to the Diversity Alliance. Not everyone agrees with the former Princess Leia of Alderaan.” Cilghal kept her own counsel.

Lusa and Sirra came out of the shuttle behind the honor guard. Kur emerged last, blinking his eyes and sniffing the air of the tunnels with apparent unease. Kambrea studied the group, and a storm crossed her face.

“The New Republic insults us. Are these to be our judges? Lusa, who was cast out of the Diversity Alliance because her incompetence caused three of our ships to crash, killing all aboard?”

Lusa reared up in astonishment. “That’s a lie!”

Kambrea looked next at Sirra. “And this Wookiee sabotaged our supply storehouses. She destroyed medicine and food containers being sent to refugee worlds, while her brother Lowbacca meddled with our computer files!”

The alien guards beside her shifted restlessly and let their hands stray toward their weapons. Sirra bristled and growled. Luke laid a hand on her furry arm. Finally, Kambrea looked at Kur.

“And this—the greatest dishonor by far. A humiliated Twi’lek, defeated and exiled during the liberation of Ryloth.”

Cilghal said, “Then it’s true that Nolaa Tarkona sent him to die in the cold wastes?”

Kur hung his head in shame at hearing his disgrace spoken of so openly. Luke could sense the resentments boiling in each of his fellow team members. Kambrea lifted her pointed chin.

“Surely you know the Twi’lek custom: if any member of the head clan dies, or is overthrown, the remaining members sacrifice themselves by going out into the Bright Lands to die. That is the way it has been for centuries. After Kur’s defeat, he proved himself a coward. He insisted on fleeing out to the cold wastes in hopes of surviving. You offend us by bringing him back here, where he has no place.” The Devaronian snorted. “Saboteurs, incompetents, and cowardly exiles—is this the best team you could find to investigate us?”

“We chose the members we felt were necessary,” Luke said. “Show us the areas we’ve asked to see, and we’ll make our own observations.”

Kambrea spun about, shoulders rigid. Her guards clustered close around her. “Very well—follow me. You are about to see one of the most wonderful cities the Twi’leks ever built.”