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“Frosting,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

She tipped her head and regarded him frankly. “Perhaps you have the makings of a Yuuzhan Vong—despite your reluctance to assume the ooglith masquer.”

“I doubt it. Though I might go as far as getting myself tattooed.”

Her smile straightened. “If you think that the Yuuzhan Vong process is less painful, you’re dead wrong.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sacrifices have to be made.”

“Oh, indeed they do, Showolter.” She let the remark hang in the air for a moment, then added, “But I’m afraid my breath might offend you. It’s somewhat contaminated—”

“From the food,” Vergere interrupted. “We’re not accustomed to eating so much processed nourishment.”

Showolter glanced at her. “Sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that.” He appraised the concealing abilities of the ooglith masquer and gave his head a bemused shake. “A nerf in taopari’s clothing,” he muttered.

Elan’s fine brows beetled.

“A play on a saying,” he explained. “A taopari in nerf’s clothing—a beast disguised as a grazer to infiltrate the herd.”

Elan’s eyes brightened in revelation. “So I’m a grazer in beast’s clothing.”

“I was thinking of the assassin your people sent.”

“Of course you were.”

Showolter cleared his throat and handed her undergarments, a simple dress, a jacket, and shoes. “Anyway, here’s your outfit.”

Elan examined the items one by one. “Who am I supposed to be, Showolter?”

“My wife. We’re refugees, displaced from a planet called Sernpidal, traveling with our servant.”

“That would be me,” Vergere said, “as ever.”

Elan looked from Vergere to Showolter. “I’ve no training in wifely duties.”

“No one expects you to live the part. Just play it. We’ll go over the details before we leave.”

“It will be just the three of us?” Elan asked.

“We’ll be met by backup on the ship.”

“Are we going to a more populated world?”

He nodded.

“You will show me the sights?”

“That might take some doing. But, yes, eventually.”

“How delightful.”

Showolter left her to dress and went into the adjoining room to check on the two three-member decoy teams. The two female agents, faces painted in swirls and whorls and already attired in outfits identical to the one he’d given Elan, bore enough of a superficial resemblance to the Yuuzhan Vong priestess to pass for her. But Showolter was less confident about the Mrlssi and the Bimm operatives chosen to pass for Vergere.

“Maybe we’d have been better off employing a couple of Drall,” he commented as he appraised the two costumed aliens.

“What about me, Showolter?” one of the women asked playfully. “Do I fit the bill as Miss Defector?” She struck a theatrically alluring pose and batted her eyelashes at him. “ ‘You will show me the sights?’ ” she said, aping Elan’s voice.

Everyone but Showolter laughed. Instead, he began distributing weapons and last-minute instructions written on self-destruct durasheet.

“Let yourselves be seen in Hyllyard City,” he told the members of the first team, “but don’t overplay things. If there are Yuuzhan Vong operatives about, they’re not going to be easily fooled.” He handed them travel vouchers. “You’ll be departing Myrkr for Gyndine, then traveling on to Thyferra.”

Another set of vouchers went to the male member of the second team. “Myrkr to Bimmisaari to Kessel.”

He slipped a blaster into his shoulder holster. “Everyone stays in touch with HQ through channels. Once our informants have reached Coruscant, you’ll be notified to drop the charade and report in.”

“What’s your bet, Major?” team one’s leader asked.

Showolter pulled down the corners of his mouth and shook his head. “After the recent setback at Ord Mantell, the Yuuzhan Vong might just avoid that sector. Besides,” he added, buttoning his jacket over the holster, “what would they want with a bunch of refugees traveling on a decrepit starliner?”

As the packed-to-the-bulkheads tender pulled into docking position alongside the once magnificent luxury liner, Han suddenly realized what C-3PO had been trying to tell him back on Ord Mantell.