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Han turned to Droma. “Fondor is where we’ll find your clanmates.”

Droma looked puzzled. “Then they’re obviously not at Facility 17.”

Han shook his head. “We got here too late. They cut a deal with the Tholatin crew. The Trevee is their ship.”

Droma stared at him in anguished disbelief.

“If I might make a suggestion, sirs,” Baffle said. “You could save yourselves three hyperspace jumps by using the seldom-used Gandeal-Fondor hyperlane. It was originally blazed by the Empire to move ships efficiently between Fondor and Coruscant, and I’m certain we could provide you with the necessary jump coordinates.”

Han smiled broadly. “You’re some droid, Baffle. I hope your message gets out.”

“Oh, it will, sir. With the HoloNet attention our protest receives, droids throughout the galaxy will stand up for their rights.”

“They’ll have you to thank for it.”

“I am merely a part of a greater whole,” Baffle said, without affect. “It is my duty to do all I can for my comrades.”

Han and Droma traded brief glances. “And ours,” Han said.

* * *

Fixed in place by a dollop of organic adhesive, Wurth Skidder tracked Chine-kal as the commander completed his second circle around him. Concentric to Chine-kal’s circuit stood a dozen guards armed with amphistaffs and other weapons.

“I’m surprised that your powers don’t allow you to break free of our blorash jelly,” Chine-kal mused as he glanced at Skidder’s immobilized feet. “Perhaps you’re not as powerful as we think you are.”

In a flash of anger Skidder drew on the Force to create a vacuum around the Yuuzhan Vong’s head.

Chine-kal gasped, and his hands flew to his throat. “Very good,” he rasped when the Force bubble dissipated. “Very good.” He breathed deeply. “Show me something else.”

The venomous look in Skidder’s eyes was proof that he was at least considering it, but the look was shortlived and soon replaced by a disdainful smile.

“You don’t want to hurl me off my feet?” Chine-kal asked. “Put words in my mouth? Fasten me to the deck as I have you?”

Skidder said nothing.

“Can you levitate yourself as easily as you do objects?” When Skidder couldn’t be goaded into responding, Chine-kal heaved a purposeful sigh. “Your reluctance to fight is as disappointing as it is incomprehensible. You—the Jedi—are a threat to us, and we are eager to exterminate you. And yet while we’re a clear threat to you, you do little more than slink about, offering support or intelligence, but never really participating as warriors. Is that why you term yourselves guardians rather than soldiers?”

Chine-kal waved a hand to signal that he was being rhetorical. “Since you and our yammosk already have a relationship, I’ll have to think of a different method of breaking you. But you will be broken in the end.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Let me show you something.”

The commander moved to the membranous bulkhead that was actually the outer wall of the starship and voiced a command that rendered a portion of it transparent. A gibbous planet of blue seas and green and brown landmasses hung in the blackness. Closer was a moon of fair size, what could be seen of its bright-side hemisphere dominated by a domed city.

“Do you recognize it?” Chine-kal asked. “The planet is Kalarba, and the moon is Hosk. The domed city is called Hosk Station, and is apparently something of a technological wonder, filled with droids and other machine aberrations.” He turned to Skidder. “To us, the Jedi are no better than the machines the sundry species of this galaxy befriend as if they were living beings. The Jedi are as much a profanation of nature as Hosk Station is a desecration of the moon it has overwhelmed. I am therefore going to order the moon destroyed. You may consider the destruction indicative of the horrors that await your mind during the breaking.”

Chine-kal turned to one of his junior officers. But before he could utter another word, the hull suddenly returned to its opaque state and the ship was jolted strongly enough to send everyone but the jelly-secured Jedi to the deck. A