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Alima followed Nadon’s eyes, glanced at the arool. “Do you really think I’m so stupid as to walk into your traps, Priest?” Alima asked.

Alima raised his blaster and pointed it at Nadon, then abruptly swiveled and fired into the grove of blue-glowing Bafforr. A tree exploded into flame, its trunk splitting under the impact. Black leaves rustled and waves of pain rippled from the woods, battering Nadon’s senses as if they were mighty fists.

“You will devote all of your resources to finding those droids,” Alima said. “Look to your friends within the Rebellion. If you do not have a location on the droids by tomorrow evening, I will sew your eyes open and make you watch as I take a vibroblade and slice each limb off your precious Bafforr trees, one at a time. Then I’ll drop a thermal detonator in your living room and fry the rest of your damned vegetable friends. Believe me, if your family were here or if I thought there was anything that you loved more in life, I would gladly destroy it, too—”

“I’ll kill you—” Momaw Nadon shouted, his stereophonic voice ringing through the dome surprisingly loud.

“You?” Alima asked. “If I thought you had it in you, I’d have brought a squadron of men. No, you’ll cave in to my demands, just as you have in the past!”

Alima turned and walked away, unconcernedly, and Nadon could do nothing but watch helplessly even though rage burned within him.

When Alima had left, Nadon went to his grove to see if he could save the wounded Bafforr, but the pale blue sheen of its glasslike trunk was already turning black in death.

He reached out for the trees with his mind. Nadon fell to his knees in the mossy turf under the dark leaves and pleaded, “Now? Now may I kill him?”

The leaves of the living Bafforr trees circling him rustled dimly in response. “What? What happened? Who touches us?”

Momaw Nadon listened to the trees’ voices. Their number had been reduced from seven trees down to six—just below the number needed for the grove to achieve true sentience. He could not tell how much they might understand. “Momaw Nadon, a friend, touches you. Our enemy killed a member of your grove. I wish to punish him for his act.”

“We understand. You cannot break the Law of Life,” the Bafforr whispered with finality. “We forbid it.”

Nadon backed away without closing his eyes in the traditional sign of acceptance. Perhaps the Bafforr were willing to die for their principles, but Nadon could not sit by quietly and let them.

He considered his options. He could search for the droids, give in to Captain Alima’s demands.

The thought was so revolting that it caused Nadon physical pain, made his eyes feel gritty and itch. Nadon rubbed his forehead between his eyes with his long thin fingers, physically stimulating a pleasure-inducing gland along the ridge of his brow so that he could think clearly again.

If the Empire wanted those two droids so badly, then it was imperative that the Empire not get them.

No, Nadon had to fight. Lieutenant Alima was a dangerous man—as vicious as they come. He would leave a trail of charred and mutilated victims behind in his search for the droids, and sooner or later, someone would tell him what he wanted to know.

As much as Nadon detested violence, he knew that Alima was a monster, someone who must be destroyed. It would be a small loss to the Empire, an ineffectual blow, but Alima represented a constant, undeniable threat to the Rebel Alliance.

Just as importantly, by letting Alima live, Nadon would be allowing the man to kill more plants, more people. Nadon couldn’t allow Alima to live.

In another room a sprinkler system softly hissed to life, and Nadon took that as a signal to leave. He checked his utility belt for some credit chips, then went out the front door.

Down the street, he spotted three stormtroopers on guard, standing together talking. They didn’t hide the fact that they were watching his house. Nadon had to walk past them. The flashing red lights on their blaster rifles testified that the rifles were set to kill. As Nadon passed, one of