Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [62]
Nadon groaned, and Alima waved two blasters in his face. “Find me those droids! You have until sunset tomorrow!” He pointed his blaster between Nadon’s eyes and pulled the trigger again.
Nadon woke with a throbbing ache in his eyestalks. It was nearly dawn, and a pale light washed through Mos Eisley, turning the pourstone buildings to golden domes. Nadon wiped the blood from his face with his cloak, then managed to crawl to his knees. He felt as if he stood in a whirling fog that threatened to sweep him away, and he leaned against the side of the building for support.
Stupid. I was stupid, he realized. For one split second, Nadon had had the opportunity to kill Lieutenant Alima, and he had failed to do so. Even though Nadon understood intellectually that the Empire could only be overthrown by violence, his Ithorian nature had not allowed him to kill.
Nadon closed his eyes, tried to blink away the pain. He glanced up. A thin smoke hung over the city, and people were already beginning to scurry for cover from the morning heat.
Nadon got up and wearily headed for home, his ears still ringing. He shook his head, tried to clear it. He went into his house, sat beside a pool and washed the blood from his eyestalk. During the cool of the night, moisture had condensed at the top of the dome. Now it sometimes fell like droplets of rain. Above his head was a large gorsa tree, a stout flowering tree that used phosphorescent flowers to attract night insects for pollination. Now that morning had come, the pale orange phosphorescent flowers were folding in on themselves.
In Mos Eisley it was rumored that Momaw Nadon’s house was filled with carnivorous plants. Nadon encouraged the rumor in order to keep out water thieves. Besides, the rumors were true, but those who walked through the biospheres under the High Priest’s protection did not have anything to fear.
Nadon went to a side dome where vines and creepers hung from a large, red-barked tree that stood beside a pool. Nadon said, “Part your vines, friend.”
The tree’s limbs quivered, and the vines parted, exposing the trunk. In the dim light of morning, four human skeletons were revealed hanging from the limbs near the trunk of the tree, each with a thick creeper wrapped around its neck—hapless water thieves.
Nadon fumbled beneath some thick grass near the tree’s trunk, pulled at a handle until a concealed door jerked upward. A light flipped on below him, showing the ladder leading down.
Nadon had secreted many a Rebel in the room below, and for a long moment he considered climbing down himself, hiding. Perhaps in this concealed chamber, he would be able to disappear from view for a while. Alima could ignite a thermal detonator in this room, but there was a chance that Nadon could ride out the firestorm intact, remain hidden.
He had enough food stored here to last for weeks. And Nadon was sorely tempted to climb down.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Alima kill his plants. One last chance, Nadon thought. When Alima comes this evening, I might be able to kill him yet.
Nadon got up, strolled through his biosphere, touching the limbs of trees, stroking the gentle fronds of ferns, tasting the scent of moisture and undergrowth, the life all around him.
There was no other way, Nadon realized.
He would have to remain and fight, though it cost him all. In the evening, Alima would come. Nadon knew that Lieutenant Alima would be true to his word. He would sew Nadon’s eyes open and make him watch as he slew the Bafforr. It would gratify Alima’s little Imperial heart to know how he had tortured an Ithorian, leaving Nadon alive to bear witness to the Empire’s cruelty. Alima would then incinerate the house.
Momaw Nadon considered what that would mean. All of his plants would be destroyed, all of his notes. Years of work would be wasted. Nadon considered