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Greedo had a funny feeling he’d been here before. But it was only a feeling, without any memories attached.

Indeed, the only memories he possessed were of life in the green jungle where his mother harvested Tendril nuts and his uncles herded the arboreal Tree-Botts for milk and meat. About two hundred Rodians lived together under the grand Tendril trees. They had always lived here, this was the only life he knew, and all his fifteen years Greedo and his younger brother had run wild in the forest.

The Rodians had no enemies in this place, except for the occasional Manka cat, wandering through on its way to the distant white mountains during Manka mating season.

The younger Rodians stayed close to home during that part of the year. The Mankas’ savage roaring warned everyone of their coming, and the Rodian men would take weapons out of secret keeping places, and stand guard at the edge of the village, waiting for the Mankas to pass in the night.

During Manka season, Greedo would hear the guns scream, as he lay in bed, unable to sleep. The next morning the carcass of a big Manka would be hanging for all to see, from cross-trees in the village center.

Except for the Manka-killing, the Rodians led a quiet self-contained existence. The olders never spoke of any other life—at least not in front of the children. But Greedo overheard them, when they thought he was asleep, talk of things happening out among the stars.

He heard the olders use words like “Empire,” “the clan wars,” “bounty hunters,” “starships,” “Jedi Knights,” “hyperspace.” These words made strange images in his mind—he couldn’t make sense of them at all, because the only life he knew was the jungle, the trees, the water, and endless days of play.

But the olders’ secret talk filled him with feelings of unexplainable longing. Somehow he knew that he didn’t belong to this green world. He belonged somewhere else, out among the stars.

The silver ships were the proof. He knew with uncanny certainty that these were the “starships” he had heard his mother and uncles speak about. Surely his mother would tell him why the ships were hidden under the mountain.

Pqweeduk isn’t old enough to know … but I am.

• • •

Greedo’s mother, Neela, was sitting on the ground in front of their hut, by firelight, peeling Tendril nuts. Her hands moved rapidly, slitting the thick husks with a bone knife and peeling them back. She hooted quietly to herself as she worked.

Greedo crouched nearby, carving a piece of white Tendril wood into the shape of a silver starship. When the ship was finished he held it up and admired it, making sure his mother could see it. “Mother,” he asked abruptly, “when are you going to teach me about the silver ships in the mountain?”

The rapid movement of his mother’s hands stopped. Without looking at her son, she spoke, in a voice that betrayed emotion. “You found the ships,” she said.

“Yes, Mother. Pqweeduk and me—”

“I told Nok to fill in the opening in the mountain. But Nok loves the past too much. He’s always sneaking up there to look at the ships.” She sighed and resumed peeling the leathery skins off the big nuts.

Greedo moved closer to her. He sensed that she was ready to tell him things he wanted to know … things he needed to know. “Mother, please tell me about the ships.”

Her moist faceted eyes met his. “The ships … brought us to this place … this world … two years after you were born, Greedo.”

“Wasn’t I born here … in the jungle?”

“You were born out there”—she pointed at the evening sky, visible through the tall Tendril trees, where the first stars were appearing—“on the world of our people, the planet Rodia. There was much killing then. Your father was killed, while I was carrying your brother. We had to leave … or die.”

“I don’t understand.”

She sighed. She saw she would have to tell him everything. Or almost everything. He was old enough now to know the facts.

“Our people, the Rodians, were always hunters and fighters. The love of death was strong in us. Many years ago, when the meat-game was gone,