One guard stepped away from Han to stand against the wall. The other,
the crests at his temples swelling, stepped in front of Han and swung
on him with such speed that Han could not duck away.
The blow fell on his right arm, right above the blaster burn from
Captain Sreas's panicky, mistimed shot. The force of the blow drove
the ball into his shoulder joint, leaving the arm suddenly numb. The
next was aimed at his face, and Han was able to soften the impact by
turning with it. But it still scalded him with pain.
The beating seemed unpracticed, experimental. Nil Spaar stood calmly
watching, as though waiting for something--an almost clinical
curiosity, with no sign of gloating. Han wondered if the guard had
ever seen a human before and tried to make note of how and where he was
struck, thinking it might offer clues to Yevethan vulnerabilities.
It lasted only until a head shot left Han crumpled on his side on the
floor with blood running from his mouth and nose. Then Nil Spaar spoke
sharply to the guard, who immediately backed away. The viceroy
approached Han and crouched down beside him, peering curiously at the
injuries. He reached out with one gloved hand and dabbed the
fingertips in the small pool of blood collecting by Han's head.
Bringing the glove up to his face, he passed the bloody fingertips
through the air over the ridges of his face, as though sniffing them.
"Your blood is weak--as weak as any vermin's," Nil Spaar said. "It
does not cause the heart to rise. It does not feed the mara-nas. It
does not ripen the birth-cask.
I do not see why she has given herself to you. I do not see why you
did not die unmated."
Then he stood, stripped off his gloves, and dropped them on the tile.
"Tar makara," he said to the guards. "Talbran."
Both knelt and offered their necks to the viceroy.
"Ko, darama," they murmured.
When Nil Spaar was gone, the guards scrubbed Han and the chamber down
with equal diligence and vigor, then took him away, back to the cell
where Lieutenant Barth and the body of Captain Sreas were waiting.
Admiral Ackbar returned to the family room wearing a longer face than
he had when he left a few moments before. He looked at Leia, who was
sitting in the middle of the floor, her arms wrapped around Jaina,
whispering Words of hope and comfort to her, and knew that those words
could not possibly reach the anguish in Leia's own heart.
"Leia." Ackbar cleared his throat. "Will you come with me, please?
There is something you must do, and I'm afraid it cannot wait."
She looked at him with a plaintive look that said, Please. No more.
But she let Winter take Jaina and followed Ackbar out of the room and
into the yard.
"Have you heard something more about Han?
Something from the Yevetha?"
Ackbar shook his head and gestured down the walk toward the gate, where
a messenger stood waiting outside.
Throwing Ackbar a disbelieving look, Leia moved down the path to where
S-EP1 was vigilantly guarding the entry.
"Princess Leia, I have been sent by the acting chairman of the Ruling
Council of the Senate to deliver this summons into your hands."
Behn-kihl-nahm standing a few steps behind the messenger, hovering at
the edge of the shadows.
"I'm sorry," he said, moving forward. "There was nothing I could
do."
"Let Bennie in, Sleepy," Leia said, stepping back to make room on the
path. "Who? Who would do this to me now?"
Behn-kihl-nahm's face wrinkled, as though he was reluctant to answer.
"The summons is at the initiative of Chairman Beruss."
Bail Organa's old friend, and second only to Bennie as her ally. The
name hit her like a roundhouse punch.
"Why?" she asked plaintively.
"Doman feels that someone less personally involved must make the
decisions now," Behn-kihl-nahm said gently. "He hopes you will
understand this and step down on your own. He fears that you may
act--precipitously."
"Precipitously!" Her laugh had a bitter edge. "Oh, he knows me--I'd
like nothing more than to send the Fifth in to burn the Yevetha off the
face of N'zoth. But how can I? How can I do anything, Bennie?" she
asked, her voice pleading for an answer. "The Yevetha have my
husband.
My children's father is in the hands of Nil Spaar."
About the Author
Michael P. Kube-McDowell is the pen name of Philadelphia-born novelist
Michael Paul McDowell. His highly praised prior works include the
star-spanning 1985 Philip K. Dick Award finalist Emprise and the
evocative 1991 Hugo Award nominee The Quiet Pools.
In addition to his eight previous novels, Michael has contributed more
than two dozen short stories to leading magazines and anthologies,
including Analog, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, After the
Flames, and Alternate Warriors. Three of his stories have been adapted
as episodes of the horror-fantasy television series Tales from the
Darkside. Outside of science fiction, he is the author of more than
five hundred nonfiction articles on subjects ranging from "scientific
creationism" to the U.S. space program.
A popular guest at SF conventions, Michael is also a member of the
cheerfully amateur folk-rock group The Black Book Band, in which he
plays guitar, keyboards, and viola. A live album, First Contact, was
released in 1995 by Dodeka Records.
Michael resides in central Michigan with artist and
....
Kube" is pronounced "CUE-bee."'
model-maker Gwen Zak, children Matt and Amanda, cats Doc and Captain,
and "entirely too many books."
At various times he has called Fairview Village (Camden), New Jersey;
East Lansing, Sturgis, and Lansing, Michigan; and Goshen, Indiana,
home.