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Shesh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “So you are only trying to preserve what you have. You’re not actually siding with the Yuuzhan Vong.”

“We are not.”

“And should they defeat the New Republic?”

“If I may speak plainly, we’ll go on as we always have—poorer, perhaps, for not selling spice, or wealthier from selling even more than we do now.”

“To the miserable, defeated masses,” Shesh said, loosing a short laugh.

As the statement didn’t beg a response, Golga didn’t offer one.

“I want you to deliver a message to Borga, Consul. Tell her that while the fleets are deployed elsewhere, the New Republic would like nothing more than to see the Yuuzhan Vong attack Corellia. They have a surprise in store—including a big shiny toy that could spell trouble for your new overlords. But tell her also that this information is offered as a means of redressing an earlier wrong. Borga won’t understand, but there are those who will.”

Golga stared at her. “If I didn’t know better,” he said at last, “I would be tempted to surmise that you are supplying me with intelligence that would be of great value to the Yuuzhan Vong.”

Shesh shrugged. “Think what you will.”

“Nevertheless, how do I know that this isn’t simply disinformation, designed to make the Hutts look like fools?”

Shesh said nothing.

“Whichever the case, Senator, this is most unexpected.”

Shesh’s smile was enigmatic. “Who knows, Consul, someday we might be working together. To that possible end, I think we’re off to a good start.”

FOURTEEN

In Ryn City’s dormitory, with all thirty-seven Ryn gathered around them and waiting breathlessly, the two humans—Tall and Short—appraised the completed letters of transit. The forgeries had required almost four Ruan days of clandestine work, with almost everyone contributing in one way or another. Where Gaph was skilled at line drawing, R’vanna excelled at calligraphy. Many of the females had seen to mixing and applying the colors, and even Melisma had lent a hand by proofreading the passenger names and scrutinizing the letters for imperfections.

She stood between Gaph and R’vanna now, Sapha’s infant—quiet as a skimp for a change—balanced on her hip. The stuffy air of the dormitory was so tense that when Tall finally pronounced the letters “perfect,” it was as if fireworks had gone off.

Everyone exhaled in relief and grinned broadly. Melisma handed the infant to one of the other females and gave Gaph and R’vanna tight hugs of joy.

The humans waited for the Ryn to calm down. Displaying one of the sheets of durasheet, Tall showed Gaph an appreciative look.

“I see you’ve already listed yourselves.”

Gaph puffed out his chest in theatrical pride. “That’s because we knew you would find them impeccable.”

Tall nodded and handed all the letters to Short, who placed them inside a beat-up alloy case.

“We’ll submit everything to Salliche Ag later this morning. They’ll drag the process out for a day or so. But assuming everything goes as planned, you should be prepared to leave on the day after tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

Instead of answering, Gaph raised his hands over his head, made a clicking rhythm with his tongue, and began to dance, cross-stepping and turning slowly as he moved about the room. In a moment, everyone was clapping and clicking in time and joining him in celebration.

Melisma could hardly believe their good fortune. In two days they would be headed clear around the Core to Abregado-rae!

Apparently in dire need of beauty sleep, Randa hadn’t asked for the Ryn as expected. By Skidder’s reckoning, two standard days had passed before the Hutt summoned them. Later that same day, however, Skidder was delighted to find the six Ryn already in the yammosk tank when he and the other captives were led into the hold.

Slipping into the gelatinous liquid and taking his assigned place at one of the tentacles, he gave Sapha a meaningful look but said nothing.

The session began as usual, with the captives striving to induce the yammosk—by lulling the creature into a state of tactile elation through caresses and massage—to urge the