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The Rodian, who had a taste for bloodshed, smacked his prehensile lips as the Priests came apart, monofilament slicing them more cleanly then any blade. Tarrz got halfway through the opening before his upper torso peeled back, revealing the dark maroon interior, internal organs laid out side by side, blood pooling and spilling as he fell to complete the gash. In a trice, they were all dead, big pools of wine-red blood slowly spreading around the quartered corpses, and only a few dazed Gamorreans were left to try to figure out what had happened.

Maybe this’ll mean a promotion, Sniquux told himself. Jabba seems to like me already … all I have to do is stick with him.…

“Prepare for the blessing of Exultation!” Pohtarza took a step forward and sensed the Priests on either side of him doing the same. The Pilgrims broke ranks, pressing forward, falling over one another, uttering little whimpers of anticipation. Pohtarza began to inflate his neck pouch, scanning the expectant faces, when something caught his eye. There was a humanoid Pilgrim pushing toward them, nothing unusual about that. However, instead of a Pilgrim’s cap, there was a dark hood thrown over his head.

Pohtarza stared in fascination. The hood was empty. The thing was quite close now—he was sure of it. Suddenly the hood fell back and the headless thing pulled a weapon out of its robe. Nameless dread gnawed at the t’landa Til; he took a few steps back, bumped into one of his brothers. The robe fell to the ground, and the Sacredot looked straight into the muzzle of a blaster, seemingly floating in the air. His thinking seemed fuzzy and oh-so-slow, but one thought came with crystal clarity. Oh. An Aar’aa. Just an Aar’aa …

Then brightness fell from the air.…

At Colony One, the oldest and largest of the Ylesian faculties, only a few moments later, it was nearing mid-day. Teroenza sat in the shallow, squishy mud like a beached whaladon, hardly moving, eyes closed. The developments of the last day were discouraging beyond belief.

Durga, curse him, had called his bluff. Teroenza opened his eyes and took in the depressing sight: beyond Veratil and Tilenna and the other t’landa Til soaking in the mud, sleek Nova Force ships littered the landing field, and small teams of heavily armed sentients wearing the uniform of the mercenary unit were everywhere.

How could Durga have known what he planned? Maybe the young Hutt was smarter than he’d thought. Now that he reflected on it, Teroenza decided that it had probably been a bad idea to kill Kibbick so brazenly.

But the worst of it was that Teroenza still couldn’t know for sure how much Durga knew. Perhaps the Nova Force troops were Durga’s response to the High Priest’s disingenuous requests to beef up the Ylesian defenses. Maybe he didn’t suspect foul play in Kibbick’s death.

Teroenza liked that idea. If true, the t’landa Til would just have to wait, and hope that this situation was temporary, and that, after a while, Besadii would grow weary of paying Nova Force to stay here. Wait. I can wait a little longer. In any event, that’s all I can do.…

The Nova Force commandant, a squat, heavy-gravity world human named Willum Kamaran, was approaching the edge of the flat, treading gingerly, not wanting to soil his shining black boots. Finally, he gave Teroenza a disgusted look and motioned for the t’landa Til to come to meet him. The High Priest decided that he’d at least pretend to cooperate until he found out more. Hoisting himself to his feet, Teroenza started in the man’s direction.

Without warning a lash of energy sizzled into the mud in front of him, spattering him with ejecta. The High Priest halted in confusion. What?

Teroenza turned to see three beings in camo uniforms come racing out of the jungle, blaster rifles blazing. The Gamorreans who had been guarding them were already dead.

Ptchoo. Ptchoo. Ptchoo.

The sound of blaster fire was all around him. Teroenza tried to run, tried to change direction,